I’d say yes. But the words that come out of my mouth are “I don’t know.”

“Oh.” He stiffens beside me. “So this was just pussy on a platter, and I got a free fuck while you explored whether or not the crippled guy could fuck you without scaring you.”

I sit up and turn to look down at him. Tears are burning the backs of my eyes and I blink them back furiously. “Is that what it was for you? Pussy on a platter?”

“Star, you have been offering me pussy since the night Sam and Peck’s baby was born.”

“I was drunk!”

“And the day after? And the day after that?”

He’s right. I did offer him sex over and over. And he didn’t take me up on it until he was hurting and wanted me to make him feel better. “You used me too,” I say.

He grimaces and nods. “I did.”

“So, where does that leave us?”

He rolls onto his back and looks up at the ceiling, his palms bracing the back of his neck.

I smack his shoulder. “Don’t ignore me!”

He flinches. “I’m not ignoring you. I’m thinking.”

“About what?” I cry, my voice full of indignation.

“About how fucked up this conversation has gotten. A minute ago, I had my hand on your pussy and you were telling me you like me.” His eyes narrow at me. “You still like me?”

“Not right this second,” I murmur.

“Jess,” he says. My eyes meet his and the tears I was holding back a minute ago can no longer be dammed.

“Nobody calls me that anymore,” I whisper.

“Jess,” he says again. “Let me get to know you.”

“But I’m just pussy on a fucking platter,” I mumble.

He laughs and hooks an arm around me. He pulls me down onto his chest. “You might have been, but you’re my pussy on a platter.”

“Yours?” I squeak.

“Mine.” He says it clearly and succinctly.

“Yours.” It’s not a question this time.

“Yes, mine. Okay with you?”

“We kind of just met.”

He picks up his phone. “Hang on,” he says, and he starts typing furiously. He waits a minute and then his phone dings. He smiles and shows it to me.

Josh: How long did you know Peck before you knew she was the one?

Sam: 30 seconds

He starts to type again. His phone dings.

Josh: How long before you knew you couldn’t live without Reagan?

Pete: Immediately

He arches a brow at me. “How many Reeds do I need to talk to before I convince you that it does happen?”

A giggle bursts out of my throat. “That’s enough.” I play with a loose thread on his sleeve. “So, you want to keep this up when we go home?”

He shakes his head and my gut clenches. “I want more. I want you to be my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” I snort. “We’re not twelve. We don’t need to label it.”

He sobers. “I need to label it.” He says it so succinctly that my breath stalls.

“You do?”

“Yeah, I do. I need a label. What am I to you? Just that guy you fuck? That guy whose bed you sleep in when you need to escape real life? Or am I that guy you want to spend time with? Can I be that guy you call on when you need help? When you need to talk? When you need to cry? When you need to get angry? When you’re lonely? When you’re hurting?” He growls low in his throat. “If you want to go home and pretend this didn’t happen, that’s going to be hard for me, because you kind of rocked my world this weekend. I don’t want to go back to being alone. I want to be with you.”

“Labeled.”

“Yes, labeled.” He stares into my eyes. “Label it, Star. Call it what it is.”

“When we came here, I just wanted to try it out.” I squeeze my eyes shut tightly. “But now that we tried it out, I’m not sure I want to go back.”

He looks confused. “You don’t want to go back home?”

“No, I don’t want to go back to being nothing. I want to be something. With you. Me and you. Something. But I don’t know how to define it.” I flail my hands in the air for lack of anything better to do with them.

“Hey, Star,” Josh says quietly.

“Hey, Josh,” I whisper back.

“You want to be my girlfriend?”

“Do I still get to fuck you? Or does that mean I have to be respectable?”

He laughs. “I like option one.”

He pulls me on top of him and cups the back of my head, pulling my lips down to his. He kisses me softly and sweetly. I pull back, but he doesn’t let me go.

“Wait,” he says. “I haven’t kissed my girlfriend enough.”

I giggle, emotion bubbling within me. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You don’t have on panties,” he tells me.

I straddle his lap and press my naked lower parts against him. He growls against my lips. “I want to fuck my boyfriend.”

“That sounds like the best idea I have ever heard.” He reaches down and shoves his boxers below his hips. His length strokes my slit as I move my hips and it notches against my clit. “We need a condom,” he says.

“Where are they?” I ask against his lips.

“Front pocket of the cooler Paul and Friday gave us.”

I get off of him for a minute and he sits up on his elbows while he watches me. “I think you should do that naked,” he says with a laugh.