On Monday morning, I wake up at 4:13 a.m. I look away from the three numbers burning my retinas to stare at the abstract shapes that are all my eyes can make out in the dark, debating whether I get up now or remain under the warm covers for two more minutes. The opening chords of “You Belong with Me” start chiming before I’ve decided. I have to vigorously tap the screen three times to shut off the alarm.
I sit up, rub my face, and turn on the lamp beside my bed. It used to sit atop a cardboard box labeled Books. Now, it’s on a three-legged stool that was meant for the living room. Sloane and I spent more time lounging around, watching television yesterday than unpacking. My parents leave for Italy this morning, so I’ll be sleeping in my childhood bedroom for the next week and a half.
My shin collides with the suitcase on the floor as I roll out of bed. I swallow a curse and stand, rubbing the stinging skin. A clean pair of scrubs are draped over the chair in the corner, serving as my temporary closet. I shed the oversize shirt I slept in, grab a sports bra off the floor, and change before tiptoeing into the bathroom across the hall.
I run through the routine so deeply ingrained that I don’t have to think about it—convenient since I’m usually half-asleep—then return to my room to grab the suitcase. I pull on a fleece jacket and make sure my phone and the keys to the car my parents dropped off yesterday are in the pocket. I’ve been taking the bus to work in the mornings, but since my dad doesn’t need his ten-year-old Subaru while gallivanting around Italy, I’ve been granted temporary custody of it—along with the cat. Guess which one I’m more excited about. If I wasn’t so paranoid about being late, I could have slept in for an extra ten minutes.
Cool, damp air greets me when I step outside. There’s not even the faintest glimmer of light in the sky. The roll of the suitcase wheels against the concrete is the only sound on the street as I walk over to the silver Forester. The lights flash as I unlock it.
The drive to Charleston General passes quickly. It’s an easy trip, one I don’t have to think much about. Unsurprisingly, there’s no traffic this early in the morning. Once I’m awake, I don’t mind being up at this hour. There’s something special about witnessing the world when most people don’t. The stillness makes you appreciate everything more. The soft glow of streetlights illuminates the line of palm trees along the road and the cheerful colors of the buildings I pass. They fly by like a rainbow—coral, sky blue, periwinkle, a light yellow that’s similar to my parents’ lemon-cream kitchen, tangerine. I half-listen to a celebrity gossip podcast as I drive.
When I arrive at the hospital, I park in the garage reserved for employees for the first time. Ahead of schedule, thanks to the car, I pass the bus stop that usually marks my arrival at work and walk across the street into Charleston Coffee Traders. They’re open twenty-four hours, catering to the long shifts, late nights, and early mornings that are the norm for hospital staff.
My phone buzzes as I get in line behind two EMTs. I’m surprised anyone is texting me this early. Traitorous excitement spikes, then plummets when I look at the screen.
Logan: Hey.
Logan: Heading into work.
Logan: Can we talk soon?
I chew on my bottom lip as I debate on how to respond. I want to be friends with Logan. It wasn’t just a line I used when we broke up a few weeks ago. But I’m wary of what that might lead to—mindful of how we progressed from friends to more before. I don’t know for sure if he’s moved on. He might just be friends with the chef, and I don’t know how to ask for sure. I don’t want to hurt him any more than I already have.
It’s my turn to order before I decide how to reply. I pay for a large vanilla latte and type three different responses while I wait for the barista to make my drink. I send the texts right as my coffee appears.
Evie: Me too.
Evie: Things are super hectic.
Evie: Yes, want to hear all about Mass Gen.
I’m embarrassed it took me five minutes to come up with that. I shake off the uncomfortable interaction and shove my phone back into my pocket as I cross the street. The bright glare of fluorescent lights and acrid scent of chemical cleaners hit me as soon as I walk through the sliding doors and pass the elevator bank on my way to the locker rooms. By the time I reach my locker, I’ve finished half my coffee.
I hang my jacket up, clip my badge to the front of my scrubs, and head for the stairwell to climb to the cardiac wing. It’s five flights, but I embrace the burn. The discomfort makes it harder to think about how I was hoping that text was from a different guy.
I’m so tired that I’m having trouble seeing straight. Hours of poring over patient charts and MRIs for the past two hours didn’t help. My vision blurs as I wash and dry my hands and wipe my face with the damp paper towel.
“Evie?”
I blink away the boulders resting on my eyelids and glance to the left. Rose Adams, another first-year resident specializing in internal medicine, is standing at the sink next to mine as she twists her red hair up into a messy bun.
“Yeah?”
“Want to come with us?”
“Come where?”
Her lips twist up in a silent tease because I haven’t been paying attention to the conversation taking place in the locker room. “Some pizza place nearby.” She shrugs. “Chris said he knows of a good place.”
I’m tempted to beg off. I haven’t slept well the past two nights—my brain has been too busy replaying a certain interaction on repeat. I never told Sloane what happened with Gray, just listened to the recap of her night with Todd.
Everyone else just finished the same long shift that I did, though. And I don’t want to be known as the responsible, studious girl I was in med school and college. Graduating and beginning my residency is supposed to be a fresh start.
“Yeah, sure. That sounds good.” The chicken salad sandwich I wolfed down feels like a distant memory.
Rose smiles. “Great. Do you need a ride? Stephanie said she has room.”
“No, I have a car today, thanks. Just text me the address, and I’ll meet you guys there.”
We all exchanged cell and pager numbers the first day of residency in case of any emergencies.
She nods. “Okay.”
Most of the other residents have changed into street clothes, but I didn’t pack any in my bag earlier. I was planning to go straight home and shower. I’ve got clean outfits in my suitcase in the car, but my desire to go get them and then come back in here to change is pretty much nonexistent. I brush my teeth, use the bathroom, and head outside, still wearing my blue scrubs.
The air is cool, and the sun is sinking down. A whole day gone that I barely got a glimpse of.
You wanted this, Evie. More than wanted—I worked my ass off to get here.
I knew the long hours would test me and the sad outcomes would haunt me. I don’t have any regrets about my choice of profession. It’s just an adjustment. A steep curve with no flatness in sight.
I’m home, but it doesn’t fully feel like it. The last time I lived in Charleston, I was eighteen. Focused on preparing for college and my summer job. Filled with minimal responsibilities and lofty dreams.
My phone buzzes as I enter the garage. Rose texted me the address for the pizza place. I’ve never been there before, but I know how to get there. I also have two unread texts from Logan, which I ignore. I call Noah instead.
He answers on the third ring. “Hey, Leigh-Leigh.”
I groan. “Notice how I never call you No-No?”
Noah laughs. “Oh, wait. Hang on a sec.”
The second turns into two minutes. I cross the lot and climb in the Subaru before he’s back on the line.
“Sorry. Emmett was calling to see if I was watching the game tonight.”
“It’s fine. I’m actually calling to ask a favor…”
“Uh-huh. I figured you weren’t calling to pretend to be interested in my job again.”
I roll my eyes, and it’s just as satisfying as if he were able to see it. “I’m going to get pizza with some of the other residents. It’s some new place on Mulberry. Mom and Dad’s is fifteen minutes out of the way…”
He sighs. “The cat?”
“Mom said she left detailed instructions on the fridge.”
“Okay. I’ll head over there now.”
“Really?”
“Really,” he confirms. “Have fun. You deserve it.”
“Thanks, Noah. Seriously. Between this and moving, you’re making a promising run for Brother of the Year.”
He chuckles. “Yeah. You’re welcome.”
It’s a ten-minute drive to the pizza place. I luck out with a street parking spot and head inside. The air is saturated with the scent of roasted garlic, oregano, and tomato sauce. Most of the other residents have already arrived. I’m not the only one still in scrubs, which makes the group easy to spot. Across all the specialties, Charleston General’s residency program has a couple hundred doctors. About a quarter are first-years, more often referred to as interns. All the faces at the table are familiar, but the only person here I’ve exchanged more than a few words with is Rose, since we share the same chief resident and attending.
“Evie!” Rose celebrates my arrival as soon as I start toward the table.
I take a seat between her and Ben Harland, one of the neuro interns. He’s cute, with blond hair and brown eyes. He’s nice too, immediately asking about how my shift was. It’s perfectly reasonable to talk about work—it’s what we have in common. But that was one of the things that bugged me about my relationship with Logan—sometimes our choice of career felt like all we had in common. I shove thoughts of my ex away as I answer his question. At least I don’t have to worry about Ben’s eyes glazing over as I talk about the coronary angiography I got to watch earlier. I’m only a week into the three-year internal medicine residency I have to complete before I’ll be able to sub-specialize and start a cardiology fellowship. But I’ll grasp every opportunity I can get until then.
Stephanie Williams is on Ben’s other side. She’s petite, with a blonde bob and tortoiseshell glasses. Her locker is next to mine, so we make small talk most mornings. Across from me is Chris Aarons. He’s the class clown with unexpected depth type. A jokester most of the time, but I saw him retain complete composure when he had to do an emergency intubation in the ER last week. He’s earned a reputation for more than his sense of humor too. Tuesday’s lunch was spent gossiping about his relationship status.
The atmosphere is light and the pizza is tasty. The mood reminds me of outings in Boston. I was part of a tight-knit group there, and I miss the rapport. Medicine is a team sport in many ways, especially at a teaching hospital. Different specialties collaborate to treat patients. Doctors seek out opinions from peers on techniques and treatments. It’s more than a paycheck; it’s a job you bring home with you. One that demands full attention and a draining schedule. It’s rare to find people in other professions who fully understand that.
Once we’re all finished eating, Chris suggests heading to the bar across the street for a beer. Ben falls into step beside me as we walk along the sidewalk, telling me about the stray cat he unwillingly inherited with his new apartment. He admits he already bought it a litter box, which makes me think he might be exaggerating the unwilling part. I don’t tease him about it; it’s sweet.
As soon as we walk inside the bar, I break off from the group to head to the restroom. I have a tendency to neglect hydrating at work, so I ended up downing two glasses of water at dinner.
This bar’s dark color scheme reminds me of Malone’s. Old wood comprises most of it. The restroom is white plaster and faded linoleum. The walnut paneling, decorated with old sports team pennants and a few dartboards, looks stark in comparison.
Rose and Ben are standing by one of the dartboards, already with drinks in hand. I’m a little worried consuming alcohol will immediately put me to sleep, but I figure I can just sip on something until I head out.
I make my way over to the varnished slab of wood serving as a bar top. It’s barely eight p.m. on a Monday, and the place is far from packed. Aside from the other interns I came with and the odd couple, the only other group here is a gathering of guys at the opposite end from where I’m standing. I scan them, simply for something to do as I wait for the bartender to finish serving them and come down here.
I blink twice when I spot a familiar face.
Freeze.
Stare.
Shit.
Gray Phillips is lounging on one of the stools along the bar, talking with a dark-haired man with a full sleeve of tattoos who is wearing a backward baseball cap with USAF embroidered above the brim. Before I can look away, Gray’s gaze collides with mine. Surprise flashes across his face before I drop my head and play with a stray straw wrapper someone left behind. I’m tempted to abandon the drink I don’t even want, but my stubborn pride keeps me rooted in place.
“Hi.”
I stiffen at the sound of the familiar voice but say nothing; just continue fiddling with the white paper.
“Evie.”
“Assholes get served at the other end of the bar.”
“Would an asshole apologize?”
“You haven’t apologized,” I point out.
Gray chuckles. “I’m sorry about Saturday night, okay?” Any amusement has disappeared. He sounds…genuine.
“If I say okay, will you leave?”
“Maybe.”
I finally look over at him, and it’s a mistake. His attention is on me. Fully. I soak his appearance in, even though I know I shouldn’t notice. Shouldn’t care. The hair that I now know is soft. Lips that I now know are demanding. Hands that I now know feel like sin.
“Okay.”
One corner of his mouth curves upward. My stomach flips.
“I believe you now.”
“About what?”
“That you go out.”
“I didn’t really want to come, actually,” I confess. “Long, exhausting day.” I’m surprised by how easily that confession flies off my tongue. I used to curate the glimpses of my life Gray saw—leaving tests I got As on out on the kitchen table when I knew he was coming over and asking my parents for permission to go out with guys when he was in earshot. I didn’t mention the twenty minutes it took me to find the pathology lab or the patient I gave discharge paperwork to instead of the correct intake form to any of the other interns, just the cardiac procedure.
Gray doesn’t tease me. Instead, he asks, “Do you want to talk about it?” in a tone that suggests he’d listen to my answer.
“Nope. I want the other interns to think I’m reasonably sociable and then go sleep for about twenty hours straight.” I study him. “What are you doing here?”
“Just catching up with some guys I haven’t seen in a while.”
I glance at the man he was talking with before, then the rest of the group. “Guys from the Academy?”
“Yeah.”
I’m still annoyed—and embarrassed—about what happened in Malone’s restroom. Yet I stupidly keep the conversation going. “You planning to spend your whole leave in bars?”
“It’s led to some good moments.”
“Glad you had fun with the waitress.”
“That’s not what—” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, mussing the strands. “I am sorry, Evie.”
“Just how I like my apologies—two days old.”
He starts to smile before he rubs his jaw to cover it. “Haven’t seen you this mad since Suzie Jacobson beat you out for class president.”
“I’m not mad,” I say with heavy annoyance.
Gray doesn’t hide his smile this time. “You left with Emmett before I could talk to you alone. And honestly, I had no idea what to text you. The only reason I even have your number is because you’re Noah’s little sister. I didn’t think—”
The bartender appears in front of us. “What can I get you guys?”
“Uh…” Truthfully, I don’t want anything alcoholic. The one drink at Malone’s hit me like a bulldozer. “Do you have seltzer?”
The woman’s brow furrows. “You want water?”
“Uh, yes. Please.”
She sighs. “Coming right up.”
I can feel Gray’s eyes on me as she moves away to fill a glass. I focus on shredding the straw wrapper into thin ribbons of white.
“Wanna get out of here?”
If I already had my drink, I would be spitting it out. He’s wearing a small half-smile, but he also looks serious.
“I thought you weren’t interested.”
“I never said that.”
“You didn’t stick around either.”
“You asked me to leave.”
Okay, fine, he has me there.
“You were halfway out the door as soon as you found out I’m…you know.”
“Intact?” Another smirk.
Asshole. “Yeah…you can go now.”
But he doesn’t. He steps closer, caging me against the bar top. One hand captures the end of my ponytail and tugs, tilting my head back as his body presses against mine. My traitorous heart stops, then starts pounding out a rapid staccato. Warmth rushes to my cheeks as I hold his gaze.
“I can be a guy in a bar. And you can be a girl in a bar. And I could ask you if you want me to kiss you. Do more than kiss you.” Suggestion drips from the words like warm honey.
What the hell happened to all the oxygen in here? It’s evaporated.
“Why did you kiss me, Evie?” His voice is soft. Hypnotic. It commands an answer, and I have an awful inclination to comply.
“I—I wanted to.”
“Do you want me to kiss you?”
I barely nod before his lips crash against mine. This is different than our first kiss. There’s heat and urgency, but it’s languid and measured. Like this might not be the main event, but the buildup to it. A marathon, not a sprint.
His tongue glides against mine. His teeth graze my bottom lip. I feel like I just downed a dozen espresso shots.
I’ve never felt more awake.
More alive.
I moan as I kiss him back, sliding my fingers into his hair and tugging the strands the same way he pulled mine. He presses closer, letting me feel the evidence of how this is affecting him. Letting me know I’m affecting him.
I’m not sure of anything—except that I need him to keep kissing me. Need to keep kissing him. More than food or water or oxygen or anything deemed essential. I never understood the power of lust until I tasted Gray’s lips.
He pulls away first, tracing my bottom lip with his thumb. His eyes are heated, his expression earnest. “I don’t want Noah to know.”
It’s not a question, more of a condition. Which means…he’s really serious about this.
“Me neither. My sex life is none of his business.” I’m not sure how Noah would react, and I have no desire to find out.
Gray nods. “And…it’s just sex. I know we have history because of Noah, but I’m not the happy-ending guy, Evie.”
“I know.” I’m aware he considers an emotional connection to be a burden.
He studies me, testing my sincerity. “How come you’ve never had sex?”
“Does it matter?”
“Not really. But I’m curious.”
The bartender sets down my seltzer.
I thank her and pay before answering. “Honestly? I wasn’t ready in high school. Then, I moved to Boston, and I was in a new city with strangers, constantly feeling overwhelmed and afraid of failing. I worked my ass off to graduate at the top of my class. Studied all the time, barely went out. The only guys I spent time with were in the program with me. Hooking up with any of them…it would have been awkward when it ended. We shared classes, were in study groups together. Maybe it would have been different if I had been super into one of them, but I wasn’t.”
“What about the guy you dated?”
“Logan?”
He nods.
“We were friends from the start. He made some…I knew he wanted more. I finally agreed to go out with him last year. I think he felt like he’d pushed me into that, so he didn’t push for anything else. There were a couple of times it almost happened…but it didn’t. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, I just didn’t want to very much either.”
“But you want to with me.” It’s not really a question, but he pauses like he’s waiting for a response.
“Yes. It doesn’t have to mean something. I just don’t want it to be meaningless.”
He contemplates that for a minute. “You ready to go now?”
Nervous anticipation dances in my stomach. I should stay longer. I didn’t say a word to the group I came with before coming over to the bar, expecting this to be a short stop. But I won’t be able to focus on anything, knowing what’s to come later. “Yes.”
Gray nods and steps away. “I’ll meet you in front.”
I grab my seltzer from the counter, down a healthy portion of it, and head toward the other interns. It’s a minor miracle I make it all the way over there. My head is spinning. From desire, from shock, from nerves.
I approach Rose, who’s talking with Stephanie. Ben and Chris are playing darts.
“Hey, guys. Sorry. I got held up at the bar.”
Rose smirks and takes a sip of her drink. “We saw. He’s hot.”
I shift awkwardly. I’ve never left a bar with a guy I didn’t arrive with before. “Yeah… I’m actually going to head out.”
Stephanie’s eyes focus behind me, then widen. “With him?”
I follow her gaze to Gray, who’s talking with the group of guys he was sitting with. The three of us watch as he saunters toward the door and outside.
“Uh, yeah.”
“Damn, Dr. Collins. You work fast.”
My insides squirm uncomfortably, but I don’t get into the brother’s best friend, childhood crush of it all. I’ve known Rose and Stephanie for roughly a week. It normally takes a lot longer than that for me to warm up to someone, much less share intimate details about my life.
“Yeah, thanks. And thanks for inviting me. This was fun. I’ll see you guys tomorrow?”
Stephanie nods and smiles.
Rose smirks. “Have fun.”
I take a final sip of my seltzer and head for the door. Gray is standing outside, leaning against the green siding. The sun is setting, spreading fiery streaks of tangerine and mauve across the blue. He isn’t on his phone. His eyes are on the sky. I study his strong profile in the soft glow.
“Have you ever flown at sunset?”
Gray doesn’t startle when I speak, confirming he heard my approach. He clears his throat. Once, then twice. “Couple of times.”
“It must be something.”
“Yeah, it is.” He shoves away from the wall.
“Did you drive?”
“No. Got a ride with one of the guys earlier. You?”
“Yeah. I’m using my parents’ car this week.” I elaborate to his puzzled expression, “I’m staying at their house. I’m taking care of the cat while they’re in Italy…remember?”
He stares at me, obviously not remembering how that came about on the party Saturday. “So, you’re staying at your parents’ house. Which is…”
“Next door to your parents’ house. Correct.”
He blows out a sigh. “Too weird. What about your apartment? Will Sloane be home?”
“Probably. Your place?”
“Emmett was going out tonight. He might be back by now.”
“We could…risk it? If he’s there, I’ll just say I gave you a ride home.”
Gray studies me for a minute before he nods. “Want me to drive?”
“Are you good to?”
“I haven’t had anything to drink,” he replies.
That’s good to know—for multiple reasons. I pass him the keys as we cross the street.
Neither of us speaks on the drive. The radio hums in the background, but I have no idea what song is playing.
I’m nervous. Maybe he’s second-guessing.
It’s a short trip. Apparently, he and Emmett live in one of the trendy lofts downtown. It’s a nicer place than I was expecting. The Phillipses are well-off, but I’d be surprised if Gray is taking money from his parents. I have no idea what the Air Force pays. Emmett founded a gym with a friend from college, which opened a few months ago. Noah said it’s doing well, but I doubt he’s rolling in cash.
I don’t ask any questions. Don’t say a single word as he parks the Subaru in the garage and we take the elevator up to the third floor. The hallway smells fresh, like someone just opened a window that’s letting in the evening breeze. We walk along dark hardwood floors that contrast with cream-colored walls.
Gray pulls a key out of the pocket of his jeans and unlocks the first door on the right side of the hall. I have an oh shit, this is really happening moment.
The apartment is empty and silent when we walk inside. Gray flicks on a few lights before he shuts the door, illuminating the layout. The kitchen is to the right. I assume the two doors lining the hallway to the left are the bedrooms.
“Nice place.”
“Emmett did most of the decorating,” is his response.
I was referring more to the building itself. The hardwood floors and exposed brick wall and picture-frame windows. It’s obvious I’m looking at a bachelor pad. The walls are bare, and there’s not a throw pillow in sight. A leather sectional couch takes up most of the central space across from a huge flat screen television sitting on a stand with a lot of gaming equipment below it.
“Most of? What did you contribute?”
“The toaster.”
I smile. “Impressive.”
Gray jerks his chin to the left. “My room is down here.”
I follow him down a short hallway and into the room on the right. His room is messier than I expected, though it’s got nothing on mine. I thought the space would reflect the fact that he’s been home for less than a week. Instead, wrinkled clothes dot the floor. There are a few empty water bottles on the dresser. His bed is unmade.
I stare at the tangled sheets. “It’s so…clean.”
Gray snorts and picks a couple of T-shirts up off the floor. “I wasn’t expecting company.”
“Right.” Sarcasm saturates my tone.
He tosses the shirts in the hamper, then focuses his attention back on me. “Really. I usually go to their place. Easier to leave than kick someone out.”
“Well, I guess you never claimed to be a gentleman.”
He smirks. I inhale.
Now, I do wish I’d ordered a real drink at the bar. Falling asleep is the furthest thing on my mind. Every nerve in my body is strung taut, waiting to respond to the slightest cue. I feel jittery and reactive.
And if I’d had any idea how this night might end, I definitely would have gotten clothes from my suitcase and changed out of my scrubs. Not to mention, I’m wearing a Nike sports bra and bikini-style cotton underwear beneath them. No sexy lace or anything gravity-defying.
Gray watches me fiddle with the hem of my mass-produced shirt. “If you’ve changed your mind, we—”
“No.” I drop my hands and curl my fingers into defiant fists. “I haven’t changed my mind. I just…need you to talk me through this. Logistically, you know? Tell me what I should do…first.”
I’ve never planned a hookup out like this. It’s always just happened in the moment. There’s less than ten feet between us, but it feels like an unbreachable distance.
He looks at me for at least a minute. “Take off your clothes and get on the bed.”
I kick off my sneakers and untie the drawstring of my pants. The soft, loose material droops and falls, pooling at my feet with an audible whoosh. I kick the fabric away and then pull my shirt off, exposing my utter lack of lingerie.
In my bra and underwear, I walk over to his bed and take a seat on the mattress to watch Gray pull his jeans and T-shirt off.
Before I lose my nerve or my train of thought, I ask, “You’re not doing this because you feel bad for me, right?”
Gray arches a brow as his clothes hit the hardwood floor, clearly not expecting the question. “What?”
“I don’t want a pity fuck or a favor. You can change your mind.”
He appears amused. I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.
“I don’t do things I don’t want to do, Evie.”
“You’ve never shown any interest in me.”
“You’re Noah’s sister.”
“I’m still his sister.”
“Tonight, you’re also a girl from a bar.”
He approaches me purposefully, crowding my space until I lean back. The cool cotton sheets warm instantly beneath my back. Gray follows, pressing me against a soft surface this time instead of a hard wall. All of a sudden, there’s a lot of his naked skin touching a lot of my naked skin. He braces his hands on either side of my head, holding most of his weight. Still, I can feel him everywhere. Warmth pools between my legs.
I pull in a shaky breath. “Does it bother you that I’m…intact?”
He grins when I borrow his word choice. “Honestly?”
“Lie to me, please.” Why does anyone bother asking that?
He gifts me with a rare, full grin. “It’s hot, knowing no other guy has been inside you.” Whatever expression I’m wearing amuses him more. “I’ve never been with a virgin though, so tell me if it’s too much. Okay?”
“Okay.” I whisper the word. I’m nervous. I’m also excited. Aroused.
Gray dips his head and kisses me. It’s just as overwhelming as the last two times. He’s a drug, one that overcomes everything else. I can’t think. Can barely breathe. All that feels concrete is the soft glide of his tongue against mine. I make a soft, breathy whimper that doesn’t even sound like me.
My hands slide down his back. His whole body tenses when I reach the waistband of his boxer briefs. I slip my fingers inside and wrap my hand around his hard length. His jaw tightens, and his eyes close as I grip the smooth, hot skin, moving my hand down to the base and then back to the flared head.
Gray’s cock bobs free of his black boxers. A small gasp I don’t intend to let out is the only sound in the silent room as I give him a slow, gentle tug. This part, I’ve done before. It’s just often been rushed, sometimes sloppy. The haze of alcohol has often coated my movements. It’s never been like this. I’ve never touched someone so deliberately. No guy has ever watched me touch him so intimately, the way Gray is doing right now. It’s erotic. Intense. I can feel the way my body is throbbing with anticipation, imagining how it will feel inside of me. I’m holding the evidence of how it’s affecting him.
Trepidation mixes with expectancy as I memorize how masculine and thick and long he is.
Holy fuck. Gray Phillips grew up all right.
“I’m well aware this sounds like a line, but are you sure you’ll fit?”
He chuckles as he slips one hand under the elastic confines of my sports bra, cupping my bare breast. “I’m up to the challenge.”
This easygoing, lighthearted side of Gray is one I’ve only caught glimpses of since he hit puberty. Most of the times we’ve interacted in the past decade, he’s been moody and serious.
He tugs the stretchy fabric up and over my head. Fresh warmth sears my flushed skin, sinking into the flesh like a fever.
“Fuck, Evie.” His voice sounds like the scrape of sandpaper, low and rough.
His boxers get kicked off, and my underwear disappears. And just like that, we’re both completely naked. There’s nothing but heated appreciation in his gaze, and it eases a little of the anxiety balled up in my chest about any comparisons to other women he’s been with.
The uncertainty and anxiety that have always appeared every other time I’ve neared this step are absent. I’m apprehensive, but I want this. Badly. There are no stop signs, only green lights.
And it’s so, so close. Right in front of me.
Gray’s lips meet mine again, thoroughly distracting me with his talented tongue. I part my legs automatically, letting him settle between them. His fingers tighten on my thighs as his cock bobs against my center. I hiss. One hand moves to the wetness between my thighs. I thought the whiskey I’d imbibed before the last time he touched me there was the reason it felt so fantastic, but he takes the opportunity to prove me wrong. I’m stone-cold sober and hurtling toward nirvana. A mindless haze spreads.
“Fuck.” He groans the word with a gritty edge, feeling how wet I am. How much I want him. “You’re so responsive.”
I grind against his erection in response.
He kisses me—wet, sloppy, and filthy. His tongue traces down the side of my neck, licking and nipping the sensitive skin. I’ll have hickeys, and I don’t care. Gray pauses to tease my nipples into hard points, then trails down the center of my stomach. He hesitates at the curve of my hip, ghosting his lips along the ridge of the bone and down.
I moan, more turned on than I’ve ever been in my life. There’s no awkward fumbling or unsure movements, but the knowledge it’s Gray touching me is what amplifies everything he’s doing.
There’s something about a fantasy taking place that coats everything in a fog. It happened in that bar restroom. And it’s happening now, as the guy who’s starred in many a dirty dream slides his tongue between my thighs.
It feels so good. I come in minutes, and the rush of relief is so satisfying that I can’t find room for any embarrassment about how I’m grinding against him or panting his name or begging for more. I lie, sprawled on the sheets, like a towel that’s just been thoroughly wrung out, as Gray leans over to his bedside table and pulls out a foil square. I don’t move as I watch him grab his erection at the base and roll the condom on. The bliss still searing through my veins makes way for some apprehension.
“It might hurt,” Gray warns as he settles back between my legs.
I nod, nerves hitting me in full force as my heartbeat flutters. “I know.”
He leans down and kisses me, sliding one hand into my hair and likely destroying my ponytail. My body relaxes into it but immediately tenses when I feel him begin to ease inside me. It doesn’t hurt—yet—but it feels strange. My reflex is to flinch away from the intrusion. I force myself to stay still. Gray’s finger rubs the nub of nerves right above his dick. Fresh sparks of pleasure flare, and it helps distract me from the foreign sensation. He slides in another inch, then two. Pain overtakes pleasure as I start to feel full. So full that it stings.
Every person gets one first. There’s no redo, no takebacks. There’s no uncertainty or regret anywhere in me. It could hurt like hell for the next twenty minutes, and I’d still do this all over again.
He thrusts deeper, and the burn intensifies. I bite my bottom lip—hard.
“Are you almost in?”
Gray stills. I suck in a couple of rapid breaths.
“Um…no.” He sounds apologetic…and a little proud.
I roll my eyes. “Get it over with. Just—”
He moves, and it feels like I’m being split open. I whimper as I stretch. As I feel him—everywhere. Forget touching his dick. This is intimate on a whole other level. He’s in me. Above me. Around me. And then he’s no longer moving, letting me get used to him.
The room is silent, aside from the sound of our breathing.
“I’m good,” I say after a minute. “You can, you know, move.”
I’m adjusting. Rather than strange, he feels good.
“Are you sure?”
I clench around him in response.
“Fuck.”
That erotic rasp makes me moan. Then, he’s kissing me. Kneading my breasts. Caressing my clit. I lose the capability of forming whole sentences. Single words. I make sounds I hope convey, Keep doing everything you’re doing.
I’m shocked to feel the beginnings of an orgasm.
Sweat beads as our skin rubs and slaps. I pant out his name, intermingled with, “Please,” and, “Harder,” and, “More.”
After the sharp pain, the sweet pleasure feels unbearable. I’m chasing it and running away from it. And then I fall, feeling my inner muscles tighten around the foreign fullness filling me. My nails dig into his back. Gray keeps thrusting, prolonging my pleasure until he finds his own.
He pulls out and collapses beside me.
“Wow,” I say once I’m able to speak. Is it always like that? I think but don’t ask.
Gray chuckles, then leans over and grabs a tissue to wrap around the used condom. “I’m going to get a drink. You want anything?”
“Um, no, I’m good.”
An “Okay,” and I’m in the bed alone.
I just acclimated to his presence—in me, near me—and suddenly, it’s missing.
You knew what this was. Gray isn’t a happy ending.
I had one of those—the potential for one at least—and I walked away. Back here. I got what I wanted.
Maybe that’s why this feels like a letdown, not a victory.
I shove away my messy emotions, roll over, and splay out on the sheets like a starfish—spent and satisfied.
So, that’s sex.
Voices wake me. I blink, trying to orient myself in the strange surroundings. The room is dark. I roll onto my back. The twinge between my legs breaks through the fog of sleep.
I fell asleep in Gray Phillips’s bed after having sex with him.
If only my younger self could see me now. She’d be so proud. For a while, that was the only item on my bucket list.
More details trickle in. I’m in bed alone. And naked.
I strain to hear what the distant voices are saying, but all I can make out is the timbre. It’s enough to recognize them though, since they’re both familiar ones. Gray and Emmett.
Will he tell Emmett about me? I doubt it, since he didn’t want to go anywhere we might be seen together. Didn’t want Noah to know. I don’t think he planned for me to sleep here either. I must have fallen asleep before he came back to his room.
Footsteps sound.
“Yeah. Night, man.” Gray’s voice is louder. Closer.
I turn back onto my side, trying to keep my breathing deep and even. The door opens and closes. The bed dips as he climbs back into it. I keep my eyes closed.
I’m not sure if I fall back asleep before I become aware of light. I crack one eye open, then both. The sun hasn’t risen. Gray is lying beside me, typing on his phone. I read the messages appearing on the screen, just inches from my face.
“What are you doing?”
He startles, not realizing I’m awake. “Nothing. Go back to sleep.”
“You’re arranging a hookup?” I say it like a question, but it’s not one. I’m looking at the evidence.
His jaw flexes as the accusation in my voice registers. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to, Evie.”
Shock stills me for a minute. I know Gray has slept—sleeps—around. I didn’t expect this.
“Wow. I thought I’d seen you at maximum asshole. Con-fucking-grats on outdoing yourself, Gray.”
At first, his only response is a sigh. “You knew what this was. I’m not a rose petals on the sheets kind of guy.”
I laugh, but it’s not a happy sound. “No. You’re the kind of guy who plans your next hookup while the last one is still in your bed.”
“She texted me, okay? Look, if you don’t believe me.” He tosses his phone on the sheets and runs a hand through his hair. “She lives in the building. She would’ve just shown up here if I hadn’t replied.”
I stare at him, which seems to freak him out a little bit. Uncertainty flickers across the face that belongs to my biggest weakness. Then, I turn the lamp on, toss the covers off, and climb out of bed. We’re both naked, but I don’t let myself look at his body.
There are a few drops of blood on the sheets, which I do look at. In other circumstances, I’d be embarrassed by the sight. If this had happened with Logan, I’d have offered to wash them.
I hope Gray can’t get the stain out. That he has to go buy OxiClean and washes them with hot water.
His gaze flickers to the crimson spots as well, then back to me as I pull on my bra and underwear before I start hunting for my shoes.
“What are you doing?” His voice is wary, like he’s dealing with a live bomb. He has no idea.
“Leaving.”
“It’s the middle of the night.”
“So?” I locate my pants and sit on the edge of the bed to pull them on.
“Evie.” He exhales. “You’re overreacting.”
“No.” I stand and yank on my shirt. “I’m reacting.”
Gray climbs out of bed and pulls on his boxers before walking over to me. “Don’t act like we’ve been dating since preschool and this was some magical moment. Listen, I’ve—you knew this was…” He scrubs a hand across his face. “This was a mistake.”
Just what every girl wants to hear after losing her virginity to the guy she’s lusted after since preadolescence.
“This was a mistake.”
I straighten to my full five feet nine inches and pin him with a harsh glare. “No. You listen. You might fuck every girl with perky boobs and a weakness for green eyes, but I don’t treat sex with the same level of emotion as a handshake. I trusted you, Gray. I’ve known you since I was five. Yeah, I knew what this was. I gave up on you falling in love with me a long time ago. And, yeah, I set this mistake in motion. I wasn’t expecting rose petals or a magical moment. All I expected was some respect afterward, and you couldn’t even manage that. So, fuck you, Grayson Michael Phillips.” I shove his chest and yank on my shirt. “And don’t you dare say that I already did.”
I grab my sneakers, spin, and head for the door. I think Gray might say my name, but I can’t hear a word over the loud rush of anger and heartbreak. My blood pounds in my ears as I jerk the apartment door open and slam it behind me for good measure.
Hard.
