Well, asked me out is a bit of a stretch.

More like wanted to hookup.

“See, I told ya. So are you gonna go out with them?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t replied yet.”

He smiles and says, “Good,” then leans closer and slides his finger slowly across my jawline.

I hold my breath, afraid to breathe.

Afraid I’ll wake up and find out this isn’t real.

I look down shyly and try to steady my breathing, because I think this is finally it.

After almost two years of dreaming about his lips, I think I’ll finally get to kiss them.

He gently pushes my chin upward, and that’s when our lips finally meet.

They melt together in a slow, easy kiss.

A very Brooklyn kiss.

There are no fireworks or fanfare.

Just sweet, soft, adorable kisses.

Laid back.

Easygoing.

Relaxed.

His lips kiss my top lip.

His lips kiss my bottom lip.

His lips press against both my lips.

His lips slowly kiss across my cheek and then softly kiss my neck.

And then, just when I was starting to miss them, his lips are back on mine, and he deliciously slides his tongue into my mouth.

Slowly.

Gently.

Like he’s tasting it.

Then like he’s exploring it.

Over and over again.

I have no concept of time whatsoever while we kiss. I just know I don’t ever want it to end.

He forcefully pulls me onto his lap, facing him. His hard pull is a shocking contrast to his soft kisses and it makes me feel warm all over.

I respond by roughly raking my fingers through those curls at the back of his neck and kissing him hard.

His mouth finds his way to my ear, and he whispers poetically, “A thing of beauty is a joy forever.”

Then he kisses hard down my neck. Sucking my skin into his mouth then letting it go. Moving down slightly and then sucking on another spot.

There are no more soft, easy kisses. While he’s sucking on my neck, he reaches back with one hand and unties my bikini top.

I’m thankful that we’re still outside. The sounds of the waves crashing into shore are almost loud enough to drown out the sound of my heart.

I’m nearly breathless as my top falls down, and when his lips move down my chest, I gasp with pleasure and realize I need him closer to me. I must have every part of me touching every part of him.

I wrap my arms around his waist and pull him closer to me. I run my hands wildly across his back and shoulders, then grab the back of his neck tightly and rock my hips into his.

I have scripted and imagined so many scenes where this would finally happen, but this is so much better than any of them. Whatever nervousness I felt before is gone. I feel bold, so I slide my hands down inside the back of his board shorts, finally getting to touch the naked version of what I’ve always admired.

He stops kissing my chest and puts his forehead against mine. He’s breathing as heavily as I am.

“We need to stop, Keats.”

Stop?

But I don’t want to stop! I feel like we just got started.

“Um, okay. I guess I should head home then,” I say. But I don’t move. I have no intention of going anywhere.

“I don’t want you to go home, but we should probably get to bed. It’s late and everyone will be back here early.”

“Oh.” Bed, huh? Well, hell, that might just be the one place I’m willing to get out of the hot tub for.

But then I worry. Is this his sneaky way of getting me into bed? Or is he actually tired?

He hops out of the hot tub, grabs a towel, and holds it out for me.

As I stand up, my bikini top falls completely down, and I instinctively cover up my chest.

His pleased grin makes getting out of the hot tub worth it. I step out of the tub and let him wrap me up in a towel. He wraps his arms around the towel, kisses me some more, and lets out a little moan.

It’s the sexiest noise I’ve ever heard.

I follow him up to his room and strip off my wet bikini like I usually do, still staying fully covered with the towel. Normally, I steal a pair of his boxers and an old t-shirt to sleep in. I look down at myself and think back to my failed seduction attempt on Sander. When I wrote scenes for seducing Brooklyn, my wardrobe certainly did not consist of an old camp t-shirt and a pair of boxers.

I keep the wet towel wrapped around me while contemplating whether or not I should just jump naked into his bed. I mean, what if he actually does want to just go to sleep? My being naked might be a tad awkward.

He sits on the side of the bed with his back toward me and takes off his board shorts. I decide that if he gets in naked. I’ll go naked.

He slides on a pair of boxers and, happily, I get to see a nice view of his naked butt when he stands up.

But that also means I have to find something to wear. I dig through his drawer and find the smallest boxers I can, then grab the softest t-shirt. If I can’t be sexy then I’m at least going to be soft.

I put them on, walk around to the other side of his bed, and slide under his cool sheets.

His hands are immediately on the hem of his shirt.

“Take this off,” he says, tugging on it.

I sit up, pull the shirt off, lie back down, and try not to hyperventilate.

I think things actually are going to happen.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It’s dark in his room, but the moonlight dancing over the waves outside causes light to bounce around his room. Light that is just as romantic as the stars.

Brooklyn’s eyes glide over my body in a way that makes me feel like he’s actually caressing me. And when he pulls me into his arms and kisses me, my naked chest presses tightly against his.

“That thing that you whispered to me about joy. What was it?”

He murmurs into my hair. “A thing of beauty is a joy forever. It’s Keats. For my Keats.”

His Keats. I think those may be the most beautiful words I have ever heard.

I fall happily to sleep.

Sunday, May 15th

So it was just a hookup?

7:45am

Sunlight and a soft, cool breeze stream through the open doors. It takes me a second to realize that I’m shirtless in Brooklyn’s bed.

Last night wasn’t just a really good dream.

Finally! After all the dreaming and planning, all the scripts I wrote, I finally got to kiss him.

A lot!

Brooklyn lazily opens his eyes and pulls me into a kiss.

As we’re kissing, he gently takes my hand and lays it on the front of his boxers, letting me feel how very hard he is.

I mentally thank Vanessa for going into such detail about how to please a man. She told me and RiAnne it was vital information every girl should know. And I needed the lesson. At the time, I thought giving a blowjob meant you actually blew on it. Not that I’ve had the opportunity to practice, but at least I understand the theory.

I run my hand firmly up and down the outside of his boxers. He groans softly then slides them off.

I internally panic.

Now what am I supposed to do? Does he want sex? A blowjob? For me to continue with my hand?

Do I want sex?

Shouldn’t he confess his love to me first?

Or did he kinda last night? When I went from his bff to his Keats.

He kisses me again and puts my hand back where it was. It feels odd. Like a foreign country.

A foreign country I’ve read all about, even seen the videos of, but have never visited.

He puts his hand over mine and guides me.

Pretty soon he starts breathing heavily, and his whole body stiffens up.