Hefty

“I won’t,” I whisper, his protectiveness causing heat to tickle my inner thighs. “And Zach, I like hanging out with you. A lot. You wouldn’t be breathing down my neck. How could you ever think I would put you in a category with anyone else? Let alone the guys at school.”

He doesn’t seem to know how to respond to that, just regarding me steadily.

Slowly, I walk toward him until we’re only a few inches apart.

Then I gather up my courage and smooth a hand up his chest.

Zach exhales roughly and tugs down the hem of his shirt, the way he did last night on the bus with his jersey. And with growing relief and excitement, I realize he has an erection. For me. It gives me the bravery to murmur, “Do you like hanging out with me, Zach?”

He swallows hard. “Obviously a little too much.”

I push up on my tiptoes and whisper in his ear, “Nothing little about it.”

“Jill,” he rasps, eyelids at half-mast. “God, baby. You’re making it hurt.”

“I’m sorry.” I drop back onto flat feet. “I don’t want that. I want the opposite.”

“I didn’t mean…” He shakes his head, steps toward me. “My pain isn’t your responsibility. Understand?”

“Yes.”

He drops his gaze to our feet, red riding the tips of his ears again. “But if you still want to…explore, I would be grateful to be the one who does it with you.”

I almost catapult into a back handspring. “Yes, please.”

Zach seems a little surprised by my quick agreement, but slowly recovers. “I have a few rules, though. To protect you.”

Of course he does, this knight in shining armor. “What are they?”

Those green eyes travel over my mouth and he takes a deep breath. “If you want to stop, you have to tell me. You’re a people pleaser, Jill. But I would want to die if you did anything you weren’t comfortable with, just because I’m…enjoying it.”

He whispers the word enjoying and it causes wetness to spread in my panties.

Because I remember his face when he’s enjoying something. If I could commission a painting of it, I would. I would hang it over my bed and stare at it endlessly.

“I promise. I’ll tell you if I want to stop.”

“Good.” A line forms between his dark eyebrows and he gestures between us. “Second rule. This is just our secret, okay?”

My heart sinks.

He doesn’t want people knowing he’s hooking up with the flighty, motormouth cheerleader. Is that it? I should ask him, but I’m afraid of the answer.

Besides, he doesn’t have to share his reasons with me. If he doesn’t want the school to know about our relationship, that’s his right. I guess I’m just a little surprised he would cause the little crack in my chest when he’s always been my protector.

That’s right. He has been. My one hundred percent reliable guardian. My chauffeur and friend, too. So I will give him this, no questions asked.

“Okay, Zach. Our secret.” I force myself to smile. “What is the last one?”

“I have a feeling I’m going to regret this.” His eyes close briefly. “But no sex. No…fucking. We stop before it gets that far.”

My lady parts clench in protest. “What? Why?”

His jaw flexes. “Those are the rules, Jilly Beans.” He studies my face intently, his brows going up after a moment. “Amazing. You really want to fight me on the no fucking rule?”

Jesus, Jill. He’s going to think you’re in heat. “N-no, I guess the rule is reasonable.” I shift on my bare feet. “Maybe you want to save yourself for someone you love—”

His humorless laugh cuts me off. “Wrong. I want you to save yourself for someone you love.” He adds quietly, “Okay, maybe I don’t want that. But it’s…the right thing to do.”

If there was ever a moment to tell Zach that I’ve loved him for a decade, maybe longer, this is definitely it. But what if I scare the crap out of him? What if I lose my chance to be near him at all? If he retreats from me now and goes back to hiding in his room, it’ll kill me.

Ignoring the expanding crack in my chest, I nod. “I’ll meet you at your bedroom window in five.”

4

Zach

Five minutes?

I look around my room, at the yearbook on my bed, opened to her junior year photo. At the pictures of her taped to my mirror. At the box holding the various articles of clothing she’s left at our house over the years—including a pink bikini I’ve had to launder hundreds of times because I can’t stop jacking myself off with it. I only have five minutes to hide my infatuation with her? Isn’t it written on every inch of my walls? Won’t she walk in here and realize it?

With a curse, I propel myself into motion, hiding everything I can in my closet. I pick up my dirty laundry and shove it into my laundry basket. I sniff my sheets, thanking God I changed them only two days ago. And all the while, I’m replaying her reaction to the rules.