“Not Sander. He wants to wait until he’s married.”

Tommy scrunches up his nose like he just smelled something bad, but Mom clutches her chest and says, “Oh, that’s so sweet. He’s such a sweet boy.”

“Mom, you had sex in high school.”

“Yes, but I told you that as a cautionary tale. A don’t-get-drunk-and-do-it-in-the-backseat-with-some-jerk tale. A don’t-follow-in-my-footsteps tale. Besides, you’re sixteen. You’re so young.”

“You were fifteen, Mom!”

“I was seventeen,” Tommy grins.

“Really? You?” Tommy had the reputation of being quite the ladies’ man. The year before he met my mom, he was named The Sexiest Man Alive. The article adamantly stated that no woman would ever tie him down. Obviously, they were wrong. Now he’s got Mom, me, and four daughters under the age of five.

Tommy shrugs. “I didn’t always look this good.” He flexes a bicep for us.

Mom giggles and kisses his arm.

I decide to leave before I have to see any more PDA.

I’ll lick you all over.

1:30pm

I unlock Cush’s front door and let myself in. The alarm beeps, so I punch in his code. I don't bother to check the guest bedrooms and the couches downstairs. If the alarm is set, it means everyone is gone. All’s clear.

I drag my tired ass up the stairs to his room. He is sprawled sideways across his king-sized bed, and has one foot sticking out from under the covers. He says his foot has to breathe at night, which cracks me up. His blinds and blackout curtains are tightly shut, and the room feels cool.

I could so go to sleep right now.

I gently sit down on the edge of the bed.

Cush's arms shoot out from under the covers.

“Ahhhh!!” I scream as he rolls me onto the bed and slowly opens his big blue eyes. “You scared me half to death!”

He laughs out loud. “Ha! I knew I’d get you!”

His arms tangle around me and he throws a leg on top of me to pin me down.

“Admit it. You've been dying to get in bed with me.”

My face breaks into a grin, and I sass back, “Thought you didn't do that stuff in your own bed?” Cush locks his and his Mom’s bedroom doors during parties. When Cush hooks up, even he uses a guest room.

“I might make an exception for you.”

His eyes glisten at me, making my insides feel warm and my stomach feel like it's just spun itself into a knot.

“Doubtful,” I say, but I don't think I'm very believable because I can't help but grin. I know it’s just Cush, but I like the idea of being wanted in bed.

Our eyes meet, and my grin fades as I get lost in his pretty blue eyes.

“You smell salty,” he says. “Like the ocean." He leans closer to me and licks up the side of my face. “You taste salty too. Maybe I should grab a bottle of tequila and we should have some fun.” He moves his eyebrows up and down. “What do you say? We’ll do some shots and I’ll lick you all over.”

“I’d say I had dance class for an hour after I surfed. The salt isn’t all from the ocean.”

“Gosh, aren't you tired? I'm tired just hearing about it.”

“I’m running on about two hours’ sleep, so yeah, I’m tired. We should probably go clean while I still have the energy.”

“I think you need a nap.”

“A nap does sound good, but . . .”

His face is still hovering just above mine. “That or I get the tequila out.”

“And lick me?” I say, like it’s the most disgusting thing I've ever heard. But I’m so lying. The thought of someone like Cush licking me everywhere makes me feel very hot.

He puts his elbow on the pillow behind my head, props himself up, and looks at me seriously. “Are you happy with Sander?”

I sigh.

“Tell me the truth,” he says.

“Most of the time. He’s sweet, and he treats me well. I just—I don’t know . . . lately, I’ve been thinking maybe we should take a break. But Prom is next week, so it’s not like I can do anything about it right now.”

“You said he treats you well but, from what I can see, you’re always taking care of him. When does he take care of you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like last night. When you went in the bedroom.”

“I don't know what you mean.”

“I probably shouldn't say this.”

“Cush, just tell me.” I pretend to be calm, but inside I’m panicking. Does he know? Did he figure out that we aren't doing it? That we never have? Should I tell him? Do I dare tell him the truth I’ve been hiding from everyone?

“You always come out looking just as perfect as when you went in. I mean, everyone knows you're doing it.”

I blow out a big breath of air. Thank goodness. He doesn’t know.

He continues. “I just wonder if it's any good.”

“Any good?”

“Yeah, shouldn't your hair be messed up because his hands were in it? Shouldn't your lips be red from too much kissing? Shouldn't your mascara be smudged? Shouldn't your legs be weak because you've been thoroughly fucked?”

I swear to God, I think my panties just melted off my body. How can Cush just talking about sex make me hot? Something is seriously wrong with me. I just need to do it. Go to prom with him. Break up with him. Then tell Brooklyn how I feel.

Except I told Vanessa I was considering it, and she got pissed. Told me I was stupid. How we’re the perfect couple, and how it would adversely affect my status.

I bite my lower lip. “Um . . .”

“He doesn't do it for you, does he?”

“Do what?” It’s very hard for me to concentrate when he’s this close to me. He’s still leaning over me. Those lips just above mine. Teasing me with their every move.

“He doesn't make you hot. I've never heard any noises.”

I push my head deeper into the pillow to back away from him. “Do you listen at the door?”

The tops of his cheeks turn slightly pink. “No, I just . . . sometimes you hear.”

“You’re right, kinda. He doesn’t really do it for me, so I am going to break up with him after prom.”

Cush's eyes sparkle. He has gorgeous eyes. And adorable dimples.

“Really?”

“Yeah, there’s this guy I’ve kinda had a crush on for a while. He’s one of the guys I surf with. It’s probably useless though. I don't think he’s ever going to think of me as anything more than a friend.”

Cush plops his head down on the pillow and sighs. “Yeah, I know what that feels like. Hey, so I’m going back to sleep.”

He closes his eyes and seems distant all of a sudden.

Is he mad at me? Did I say something wrong?

While I try to figure out the answer, I close my eyes and immediately fall asleep.

I wake up with that feeling. That feeling someone is staring at you. My little sisters do it all the time. I’ll wake up, and their little faces will be four inches away from mine, and I’ll wonder how long they’ve been there.

I open my eyes and see Cush. “Tell me I wasn't snoring.”

He grins sweetly at me. “No, you looked peaceful. You ready to tackle the cleanup?”

“Not really, but I suppose we better.”

We go down to the laundry room, grab a couple of big, black trash bags, and start cleaning up. We work our way through empty beer bottles, empty pizza boxes, and random half-eaten pieces of pizza.

An hour and half later, I wipe off the bar, throw away a few stray empties, fluff the pillows, and look around.

“We’re a good team,” Cush says.

I smile at him and nod in agreement.

“You have any plans tonight?” he asks.

“Not really. Sander has something going on, and Vanessa and RiAnne are going to some benefit with RiAnne’s parents. The nanny took the girls down to Sea World today, so they’ll go to sleep early. I was just gonna do a little homework, relax. Maybe watch a movie.”

“Any chance you'd wanna hang out with me? I just got a text from my mom. She changed her plans—some fashion emergency—and now she won't be home until tomorrow night.”