“We should celebrate.” He gives my knee a slight squeeze. “What’s your favorite thing?”

I open my mouth to say him and the huge thing nestled between his legs, but I don’t want to be corny, so I settle for my second favorite.

“Ice cream.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously?”

I make a face. “Don’t tell me you hate ice cream.”

The fact that Liam hated it drove me crazy.

“Nah, ice cream is the shit. I just see you eating healthy crap all the time so I’m surprised.” He points to the left. “There’s a shortcut to the pier if you turn here.”

I eagerly make the turn because the pier has the best ice cream stand.

My stomach dips when it occurs to me. “We might have a small problem.”

“What?”

“I still don’t know how to park.”

Oakley chokes out a laugh. “I got you.”

I know he does.

The look of sheer disgust Oakley shoots me is almost comical.

“Mint chip?” he questions as I happily lap away at my cone. “I thought you wanted ice cream…not toothpaste.”

So much for Oakley not judging.

We start walking down the boardwalk. “What’s wrong with mint chip?”

“Everything,” he says while gesturing to his chocolate cone. “Chocolate on its own. Awesome. Mint—cool.” He shakes his head profusely. “But chocolate and mint together? Motherfucking blasphemy.” His face scrunches. “It’s a mortal sin against taste buds.”

He’s wrong. So fucking wrong.

However, everyone has their flaws.

I walk over to a bench near a quiet area where there aren’t many people. “Maybe you just got a bad batch when you tried it.”

“Nope. Trust me, no matter how many times I’ve tried it, it always tastes terrible—”

Rising on my tiptoes, I press my lips to his.

I’m expecting him to push me away since we’re in public, but he doesn’t.

I faintly register the sound of something dropping before one of his hands grips the back of my neck, and the other curls around my hip possessively as he thrusts his tongue into my mouth.

Once again, I’m held captive by him…because no matter how much I give, he always demands more.

Like he’ll never get enough of me.

Moaning, I sag against him, but the sound is swallowed by Oakley’s ravenous kiss.

When he finally lets me go, I’m utterly breathless.

The tip of his tongue sweeps across his bottom lip as a lewd grin curves his mouth. “On second thought. It’s not so bad.”

Laughing, I give him a playful shove because we both know that kiss was a lot better than not so bad. “Dick.” I peer down at his cone that’s now a melting chocolate puddle. “You dropped your ice cream.”

Now that’s a mortal sin.

There’s a flirtatious glint in his eye. “Guess you’ll have to share more of yours with me.”

I go to kiss him again, but stop myself because I can’t make this nagging feeling go away.

I don’t want a marriage proposal or anything—because yikes—but I’d like to know what he’s thinking when it comes to us.

I swallow hard. “Oakley?”

“What’s up?”

“What are we doing?”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Having ice cream.”

I give him a look. “I meant this…us.”

Face screwing up, he takes a small step back. “I guess we’re having that talk, huh?”

I blow out a breath. “Look, I’m not gonna stand here and do that thing where I act like one of those hipster girls who are all, ‘I’m not like other girls, baby, I’m way better,’ and then pretend to be cool with something I’m really not just to keep a guy I’m into.” I pin him with a look. “I want what I want, and I refuse to apologize for it.”

Amusement dances in his eyes. “And what exactly is it that you want from me?”

“I want you…this…whatever this is.”

Uneasiness enters his expression. “You know I don’t do relationships, baby girl.”

I tell him the truth. “I don’t do relationships either.”

Hell, I wouldn’t know the first thing about having a relationship. And if I’m being honest with myself, they kind of petrify me.

However, I’m not okay with him screwing other girls.

“But I do have one rule.”

Despite looking like he wants to flee the scene, he stays. “What’s that?”

“Don’t sleep with anyone else.” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Or at least if you’re going to, have the decency to give me a heads-up and tell me we’re over before you do.”

Coming closer, he tips my chin. “Deal. But only if you follow my rule.”

Oakley wanting rules is surprising, but he’s entitled to have one too.

“What?”

“I’m not taking your virginity, Bianca.”

I search his face for signs that he’s joking…but there aren’t any.

“Why not?”

He laughs, but it’s humorless. “There are a million reasons why I shouldn’t…but for starters? I don’t fucking deserve it.” He strokes my cheek with his thumb. “You obviously kept it this long for a reason and I don’t want you throwing something important away on a fling—”

“Hey,” Jace says behind me.

Shit.

Eyes going wide, Oakley blows a gust of air into my face. “Got it.” He looks at Jace and Dylan. “Bianca had an eyelash in her eye.”

“Thanks,” I say, playing along. “Hurt like a bitch.”

Dylan scrunches her nose. “I hate when that happens.”

I promptly ignore her and focus on my brother. “What are you doing here?”

Jace gestures to the hand that’s entwined with his girlfriend’s. “It was a nice day out and we’re both off, so Dylan suggested we come to the pier.”

Of course she did, because somehow the bitch always finds a way to ruin my life.

His curious stare bounces between me and Oakley. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Ice cream,” I blurt out at the same time Oakley says, “I’ve been teaching her how to drive and we came here to celebrate.”

“Wait…what?” Jace says, his expression a mixture of shock and miffed. “You’re driving?”

“Yeah.” I can’t help but smile again. “It’s only parking lots and side streets so far, but I’m learning.”

“She’s killing it,” Oakley adds and it’s all I can do not to beam.

“That’s good.” Expression pinched, Jace grips the back of his neck. “I just…I guess I always thought I would be the one to teach you how to drive if—when—you were ever ready.”

Well, shit.

“Oh.” I wince. “I mean, I would have asked you, but…” He’s the last person I’d ever want to teach me. “You know how you are, Jace.”

Evidently, he doesn’t though because his expression twists in confusion. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”