He grabs my hand. “I do like you. And you’re right, we both thought our past relationships were so amazing.”

“And they weren’t, really, were they?”

“No, not really. I’ve been sorta kicking myself for spending so much time whining about me and Whitney breaking up. Now I feel stupid because I see everyone was right, and I’ve been kind of a jerk to everyone lately.”

I smile. “Not to me. Well, except for the worst kiss ever.”

I sit down on a bench next to the tennis court and admire a container full of pink tea roses. “These are so gorgeous,” I say, leaning down to smell them.

Dawson sits down next to me and says, “So, Keatie . . .”

“Keatie?”

“Yep. That’s what I’m gonna call you. A combination of cutie and Keatyn. You’re my little Keatie.”

I smile at him.

Ohmigawd! Is that not just the most adorable thing ever?

“It’s cute.”

“No, you’re cute.”

He gives me a sweet kiss then pulls me up and says, “Ready to play some tennis?”

“Sure, but you’re gonna lose.”

His hormones kick into overdrive.

11pm

After dinner, everyone sits outside, chatting and drinking.

We watch the sun go down from the side deck and at that moment, while I am wrapped tightly in Dawson’s strong arms, I have a flash of clarity.

It all feels so right, and I decide that I will be quite content without a surfer, a player, or a Hottie God in my life.

We move the party back to the pool/hot tub area, turn the music up, dance around, and have fun.

Dawson says to me, “Be right back. I’m gonna grab a couple more beers.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t have any more.”

“Why not? I’m not drunk or anything. Are you feeling it?”

“I’m feeling it, but I’m just maybe a little tipsy. I feel perfect.”

“Okay?” He gives me a questioning look.

“I was kinda thinking that I’d like to not get—um, remember how we said if we do stuff that we didn’t want to only because we’re drunk?”

He beams. “So, you’re thinking us about doing stuff?” I can tell he is quite excited by this prospect.

“I wanna do some stuff. Don’t you?”

He kisses me. “Are you kidding me? It’s all I’ve thought about all day.” He stares at me for a second and figures he better not waste his opportunity. “You know, I’ve had about enough of the outdoors for one day, how about you?”

He tells everyone we’re tired and drags me into the house.

Then I think his hormones kick into overdrive.

He kisses me, like, fast, hard, long, intensely deep kisses. He pushes me up against the counter in the kitchen, holding my hips tightly in his hands. He kisses hard down my neck and then strips off my shirt and tosses it on the floor.

Then he walks me backward through the house while still kissing me, quickly working his way back to the bedroom. He pushes me against a wall in the hallway, where he pulls his own shirt off, then unties my bikini top, his warm, naked chest pressing against me as he shoves his tongue deeply into my mouth. I suck on it recklessly.

We finally get to the bedroom, where he quickly shuts and locks the door, then pushes me up against it. He’s kissing me and, like, ravishing me. I feel like I’m living a hot romance novel. And this is the kind of thing I have always pictured.

Always dreamed of.

A boy who wants me so bad he can barely stand it.

A boy who pushes me hard against the door and kisses me like he means it. A boy who takes my wrists and holds them above my head, pinning me to the door as he sucks his way down my chest. A boy who kisses me so deeply it makes my head spin. A boy whose one free hand feels like ten because it is everywhere on my body.

It was nothing like this with Brooklyn. And nothing like this with Cush. If Cush was hot, then Dawson is molten lava hot. Molten lava that seems to be rolling through every part of me.

We frantically finish undressing each other.

Kissing. Hugging. Sucking. Breathing.

At this point, I think my hormones kick in too, and honestly I’m thinking, Just do me, keep going, don’t stop. I’ve never felt such desire in my life.

But just when I’m ready to speed things up, he decides to slow them down.

He’s wearing nothing and all that’s protecting my virtue is my little bikini bottoms.

He kisses me more slowly now, but somehow his slow kisses are still very intense. Like he’s tasting me. His lips feel like fire on my skin. And I know only one thing is going to put out the fire burning inside me.

He kisses my shoulder, my chest, my stomach, and then slowly strips away what little clothing is left on me. With his teeth.

I can’t even tell you how hot I am.

Especially now that he’s back to a full-scale assault on my body.

He’s kissing, touching, rubbing, licking, well, everything.

Everywhere.

And it feels very, very good.

I feel like he’s standing outside my front door, knocking on it. No. Make that ringing the doorbell, repeatedly. RING. RING. RING! And I want to invite him in. I really want to. My body is definitely in agreement with me on this. My body has been pleading its case, begging, Please, please, can he please come in and play? Be our new friend and make us feel incredible? But my brain is arguing back, saying, You have only known him for a week. You want to let this virtual stranger in? Shouldn’t you be in love with him? What if you get pregnant? What if he’s just using you? What if this ruins everything?

Then my body yells at my brain and says, Shut up! Seriously, shut up! I don’t freaking care if he’s using us. I want him NOW! Freaking, right now!!!

My body wins this round. My brain shuts up for a bit and lets us feel.

He moves between my legs and, oh, gosh, what he’s doing feels pretty amazing, and pretty soon I’m trembling and breathing hard with pleasure.

And I really don’t think I can take much more.

My body is screaming, OMFFFFFGGGG! LET THIS BOY IN, NOW!

I say breathlessly, “Dawson . . .”

He stops and looks at me, tilts his head in question.

I bite my lip and give my head a little nod.

A barely perceptible teeny little yes nod.

And invite him in.

Monday, September 5th

Should I feel cheap?

Early.

Get woken up by the sun gleaming through the sheer curtains at 6:42. We didn’t get much sleep last night. Turns out my body was one hundred percent right. Dawson did need to be our friend. And he was a very fun play date. He visited more than once. And my body and my brain were both waiting for him eagerly at the door every time, saying, Welcome back! Come on in!

Like the rugs when you walk in Wal-Mart.

And speaking of Wal-Mart, should I feel cheap?

Sleazy? Stupid?

I sort of want to blame Brooklyn for this. Last time he pissed me off, I turned around and slept with Cush. But I can only blame myself.

And Dawson’s hotness. I could not resist him.

I think back to the scripts I used to write. About a boy wanting me so badly. About him ravishing my body. Throwing me on the bed. Being just a little rough and in control.

Shit.

But I suppose that’s the thing about sleeping with someone; it feels right at the time, but there are always repercussions. Repercussions that my mind couldn’t seem to come up with last night.

Like, you never know what’s gonna happen after he leaves.

Will he ever want to visit my house again?

Will he be a jerk and make me want to slam the door in his face?

Is he going to keep visiting other girls’ houses?

Will he tell all his friends about his visit?

Will my house get a bad reputation?

When we get back to school, will he start walking a block over so he can avoid my house?

We did use protection, so I shouldn’t have to worry about things like STDs and pregnancy, but what repercussions will it have on our very young relationship? Do we even have a relationship? And, if we do, what is it now? Did this change things?

Will we be closer? Will it make things awkward? Will he want me again? Did he lose all respect for me?

Shit. I really have no idea.

And I’m even more worried because he isn’t in bed with me. Did he creep out early this morning just to get away from me? Do the walk of shame out to his living room?

I get up, pee, brush my teeth, and brush through my hair. Maybe he went out surfing, and I should go join him. But then I realize that I probably, definitely screwed up by sleeping with him. Because if he wanted me out surfing, he would’ve woken me up and asked me to go with him like yesterday.

This thought depresses me, so I throw myself across the bed.

Why, oh why, did I sleep with him? And so soon?

Note to self: do not sleep with another boy until you are seriously in love.

What was I thinking?

I need to talk to someone about this. Someone who’s an expert on hookups. I know it’s the middle of the night, like three am, in Vancouver, but I text Tommy anyway.

Me: Since you say you’re a guy, and that makes you an expert on them, AND you were a player—what’s too soon to sleep with a guy you really like, and you think he really likes you too, but you don’t know for sure because you’ve only known him for like a week, but it feels like so much longer?

Me: And if you did to decide to sleep with him, because he is so incredibly sexy and made you feel like there was molten lava running through your body, but then you wake up the next morning and he’s not in bed with you, what does that mean?

Me: Especially when it’s his house?

Me: I’m asking for a friend.

Me: Please, please, be awake.......

Me: Or wake up...............

Me: Okay, I’m asking for me. Please wake up!

Me: I’m freaking out here!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Tom: Molten lava, huh? That’s pretty damn hot. To answer your first question, I prefer a girl to turn me down at least once. Twice is good. Three times is not a charm. If she turned me down three times, she was out.

Me: And after she didn’t turn you down, how did you treat her? Did sex change things?

Tom: Yeah, it made it hotter.

Tom: This is your mother. He should NOT have said that. PLEASE tell me you didn’t sleep with Gorgeous.

Me: I didn’t sleep with Gorgeous.

Tom: Don’t lie to me!

Me: You just told me to lie to you?

Tom: Stole my phone back. Was he sweet to you, before, during, after?

Me: I don’t want to freak Mom out, but I’m SO glad I can talk to you about this stuff :) And idk about sweet, it was very intense, very hot, before and during, but like in between, yeah, he was. He’s REALLY sweet. WHAT DOES THAT MEAN???

Tom: Think positive. Maybe he just went to get some coffee. Chill, baby, it will be okay. And if it’s not, I’ll come kick some ass.

Me: If you are going to start kicking asses, you should start with B’s.

Tom: Why?

Shit. I almost just blew it. They don’t know about me seeing him. I don’t want them to know how stupid I was.

Me: He’s kinda been a jerk lately.

Tom: Is that why you slept with Gorgeous? What’s his actual name anyway?

Me: Dawson.

Tom: I doubt he left you alone in his house. Go find him. Don’t make it awkward.

Just as I read the text, Dawson pushes through the door carrying a tray of food. I could die from relief. I text Tommy back quick.

Me: OMG!!! You were actually RIGHT!!! He brought me breakfast!!!!! :)))))) He’s SOOOO CUTE!!

Dawson grins at me. “You’re awake.”

“Barely.”

“I, um,” he acts a bit embarrassed. “I got us some breakfast. Figured we could surf a little later if you want to.”

“Are you feeling awkward?”

“No. I mean, a little awkward maybe, but that’s because I don’t know what you’re thinking. Like, if you regret it.” He sits next to me on the bed. “I really hope you don’t regret it. Or hate me.”

“Why would I hate you?”

“Because maybe you felt like I made you, or talked you into it, or you thought I sucked at it, or you didn’t like it, or you wished we would’ve waited. I mean, I would’ve waited. I planned on waiting. But I’m glad, really glad, we didn't wait.”

“You talk a lot when you’re nervous. It’s cute.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t ask me a question.”

“Did you just get caught up in the moment? Do you regret it?”

“Honestly?”

“Uh, I think so. Yes. I want to know honestly what you’re thinking. We’ve been honest with each other about our feelings so far. Part of why I like you so much. I want that to continue.”

He likes me so much?!

“Hmmm, well, I could see you wondering if I got caught up in the moment the first time but, you know, after the, uh, fourth time, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t just a moment. It was amazing, really. I just hope I don’t regret it.”

“What would make you regret it?”

“If it messes things up for us. If it makes you think poorly of me.”

He lets out a big sigh, grins big, grabs me, and kisses me. “Keatie, last night was awesome. I don’t think I’ve ever woken up feeling so happy.”

“I admit, I had a little freak out when I woke up and you weren’t here. I even texted my stepdad to ask him about it.”

He gets a slightly shocked look on his face when I mention the D word.

“Oh, it’s cool. He’s cool. I can talk about that stuff with him and my mom. Not, like details but, you know, in general terms.”