She puts the note back and shrugs. "Nothing."

"I call bullshit, Luce. What is it?"

Her eyes roll as she reaches back in, grabbing the piece of paper and slapping it against my chest.

Thanks for being an awesome lab partner. You make learning fun. Adam.

I scrunch up the note and toss it in the trash. "You make learning fun?" I scoff. "What a douche thing to say."

"It's nice," she says, her voice laced with sympathy. "Leave it alone."

"You think it's nice?" I laugh once. "You're being naive, Luce. He wants in your pants."

Her jaw drops.

I roll my eyes.

She narrows hers.

"Whatever. Some other guy's leaving notes in your locker and making you smile. I'm supposed to be okay with that?" I slam my palm against a locker and walk away. She shouts my name, but I ignore it. Maybe she thinks I'm being a dick but I don't. I have every right to be pissed.

"Cameron!" She pulls on my arm, stopping me from going any further.

"What!" I turn around, prepared for an argument, but she's smiling. I'm pissed and she's smiling at me.

She yanks on my hand and leads me out of the hallway and through the exit so we're alone. Throwing her hand out, palm up, she says, "Phone."

"What?"

"Give me your phone."

I do what she says. Logan was right, in the couple of months we've been dating, she's made quick work of owning my balls.

She taps the phone a couple times and then hands it back to me. "That's my locker combination," she says. "You can go in there and check it whenever you want. I have nothing to hide from you, Cameron."

My shoulders slump. I hadn't realized how tense I was until now. "Which Adam is it, Lucy? Masters or Deluca?"

Her lips thin to a line.

I try to get past her but she rests her palms flat on my chest and pushes until I'm against the wall—her tiny frame presses into my front, blocking me from going anywhere. "Stop it," she says, her eyes dancing with amusement.

"This shit's not funny. Tell me or I'll punch them both."

She laughs at that, and for a split second I want to, too. I sound like an asshole. I am an asshole. I put a hand on her waist, the other in her hair, pulling her closer to me. "I don't like it," I state, forcing myself to calm down. "You're mine, and assholes here need to know that."

"Okay." She nods, reaching up and kissing me quickly. "Um..." She chews her lip and looks away, her cheeks redder than they were only moments ago.

"What, Luce? What were you going to say?" I duck my head and block her vision, making sure she has no choice but to look at me.

"The older girls, I see them wearing their boyfriend's jerseys... with their names on the back... you—I mean me—we... we could do that?"

My eyes widen, and so does my pathetic grin. "You'd want to do that? You're not an object, I don't want you to think that I own you."

She shrugs. "Why not? I'm yours."

*

I never did find out which Adam it was so I threaten to punch them both. Logan laughs, but I don't care. Lucy makes me punchy.

-LUCY-

I look down at the jerseys on top of my feet. They've just fallen out of my locker. There has to be over twenty of them. All with the name Gordon printed on the back.

"I didn't know which one would go best with these short frilly skirts and cowboy boots you always wear, so I gave you choices." He kisses me once, tugging on my top, before leaning his shoulder on the locker next to mine. "Good morning."

I try to contain my smile. "Morning." I pick a random one and shrug it on. "How do I look?"

He stands frozen. Eyes wide, mouth open, frozen.

"Cam?"

He snaps out of his daze and looks around—the halls are empty. He knows I like to come to school early, so now he does, too. Apparently spending every second of our free time together wasn't enough. Not for us. We need the extra half hour.

Taking my hand, he leads me to an empty classroom. He closes the door behind me and slowly maneuvers me against it. He leans in close, his breath brushing my cheek when he whispers in my ear, "You look..." He pulls back, unable to finish his sentence. His eyes roam me from head to toe. I can feel the heat take over my body. He moves in, placing his lips on mine, but he doesn't move them. It's like he's hesitating and I have no idea why. Finally, he opens his mouth, letting out a moan at the same time.

And then he kisses me.

Holy shit, does he kiss me.

We've kissed before, more than a few times. Each kiss is better than the last. But they've always been just that. Kisses. This—this is driven by pure need. Pure want.

He pauses, takes a breath, and whispers, "Shit." Then continues where he left off. I pull on his shirt, wanting him as close as possible. There's resistance. Why is he resisting? I release his shirt, grip his hips, and roughly pull him to me.

He immediately stops kissing and lets his head fall on my shoulder. And I'm glad he does because my jaw's on the floor and I've lost the ability to move.

"Luce," he whispers, stepping back.

I try to swallow, but my eyes won't leave the huge bulge in his shorts.

"It's not like I can help..." His words die in the air when he sees my hand rise.

The rest of my body is frozen, but my hand won't stop reaching for him. My eyes are fixed. They can't look away.