High school is just so overrated. The people, the parties, the boys. Ugh. Teenage boys suck!

I’m in a real mood today, and my dad can sense it. “Lainey girl, is there anything you want to talk to your old man about? I won’t even say anything. I can just listen.”

My dad is the best listener. Where my mom wants to find solutions to every little thing, my dad will let me vent, and talk things out. Even when he knows the solution, he doesn’t give it to me. He prompts me and nudges me in the right direction until I get there myself. I know this because I’ve seen him do it with my mom and my older brother, Owen. He never takes credit for it, either. He just smiles this proud, crooked smile, pats us on the shoulder and sends us on our way. God, he’s amazing.

“Lainey?” I hear him say as he looks over at me from the driver’s seat of his older-than-dirt forest green GMC Jimmy that he refuses to give up. It smells like pine and coffee. It smells like my dad. I secretly love it and hope he never ever gets rid of it.

“Teenage boys are the worst, dad. They’re gross and they smell terrible. Plus, they’re mean and rude and–”

“Wait. Elaina, is someone being mean to you? I know I said I wouldn’t talk, but if someone’s upsetting you, I want you to tell me.” He keeps his eyes trained on the road, but I can feel his worried gaze as his expression grows more serious. His dark eyebrows come together, forming a deep ‘V’. He addresses me using my first name, instead of the nickname he usually calls me, and that's when I realize my hands have twisted themselves into tight knots in my lap.

I look at my dad and calmly tell him, “No, dad. No. They’re just gross and mean and rude. I just thought high school would be so different, you know? Like I’d be going on dates with cute boys. Slow dancing in the gym at homecoming. Giggling in the halls with my girlfriends. But everyone is in these little groups, and they refuse to even look at anyone who isn’t a part of their crew. The jocks stick together like they are literally glued to one another. They're always on top of each other with headlocks and pats on the back. The geeks all huddle in their group, like a school of fish, using their strength in numbers to ward off the enemy – a.k.a. the bullies that have nothing better to do than pick on people for what they look like or what they’re wearing. WHO CARES? None of this even matters! A year from now, we’ll all be off living totally different and separate lives. Why can’t we just be nice to each other while we suffer through the torture that is high school?”

Dad keeps looking at the road. He narrows his emerald green eyes and twists his lips to one side. “Hmm.”

“Hmm? Dad, you can say more than that.” I can see that he looks surprised. He wasn’t expecting me to request a response, but I’m feeling like my ragey rant will not get me anywhere today. I urge him to keep going by saying nothing else and just looking at him.

He huffs. “Well, Lainey girl, high school has kind of always been like that,” he says in a low voice. “People stick to the groups they feel most comfortable in. I’m not saying it’s right, though. As for the boys, they’re hopeless until at least 30. But what about that Brandon boy? I like him. He seems nice.” His eyebrows arch way up when he asks me about Brandon and I’m feeling like he fears what I’m going to say next. He knows I lack any kind of filter.

“Brandon is such a nice guy, but we’re just friends. I mean, the dude didn’t even kiss me for those three months we went on dates last year. He was just a friend who picked me up every Friday night, bought me fries and a milkshake and always got me home before curfew. Sometimes he held my hand. Annnnnnd, I can see why you like him so much now.” I smile and roll my eyes at him.

My dad lets out a soft chuckle and I immediately feel my mood lift. Is it weird for an 18-year-old girl to feel like her dad is also her best friend? I mean, I have friends but not like best friends, and he just gets me, and I get him. It’s so easy with dad. I wonder if it could ever feel this easy with anyone else. I don’t think it could.

“Lainey girl, you’re right about one thing. One day, none of this petty high school stuff will matter, so don’t worry so much about crossing things off your list. You’ll get to slow dance and then giggle with your friends about the cute boy you like. Just give it time. And make sure that boy deserves your slow dance and your attention because you’re wonderful and you deserve the world. Do you know that?” He’s stopped the car, so he turns to look at me.

We’re at Betty’s Diner where I work three days a week waiting tables. I love it here. Betty still runs the place after 41 years in business and she’s one of my favorite people. She also has no filter, swears like a sailor, and takes no shit from anyone. She’s sort of my hero.

“Thank you, Daddy. You always know just what to say.” I give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “See you at 4:00.”

“See you then, sweetheart.” He kisses me on the temple and squeezes my hand. “Say hello to Betty for me. I’ll come in to see her when I pick you up, but if I don’t get back home and fix that leaky sink right now, your mother might leave me.” He lets out another soft chuckle, and I laugh with him. He’s been telling her he’ll fix that thing for weeks. Mom might be the only person not remotely impressed by my dad’s PhD and the fact that he’s one of the most celebrated professors at MIT. She’s not letting him get through another Saturday without getting this done. I wave goodbye as I shut the truck’s door and saunter into the restaurant, that weight in my chest already feeling like it's lighter.

“Hey, there darlin’.” Betty’s loud but friendly voice greets me as I step in. “I was just talking about you! Come on over here!” I drop my purse and jacket behind the bar and head over to the table she’s sitting at and just as I get there, I sense another body walk up next to mine. He’s standing too close to me so I can’t see his face, but I can see his very toned forearms with soft, blonde hair. 

His shirt is tucked in, and I can see what is obviously a rock-hard stomach under his light blue polo, which matches mine — the shirt, not the 6 to 8-pack likely lurking beneath the cotton. He's wearing the diner’s uniform. I can also smell oranges and some sort of manly deodorant. I take a deep breath.

“Elaina, honey, you have a trainee today,” Betty says. “You know we’ve been getting real busy lately and we’ll need the help come summer with all the tourists. Andy here just moved into town.” She casually points up towards the stranger's face without actually looking at him.

I look up. He’s only a few inches taller than my 5’9” frame. Maybe 6’. He’s got a tight smile on his face and his eyes come down to meet mine. They’re so beautiful I almost let out the gasp caught in my throat. They’re amber with flecks of yellow and green.

“He’s a sweet kid,” Betty continues. “I know his aunt, Mel, very well and I figured he could help you with the lunch rush today since he has some serving experience. He’ll be shadowing for your next few shifts. So, Elaina, meet Andy.” She waves her finger back and forth between us, still looking down at whatever spreadsheet is in front of her.

He holds out his hand to me, and I look down quickly to shake it. His gaze never leaves mine. That tight smile is still on his face, though I see it soften the second our hands touch.

“Now go on, you two,” Betty says while doing her best to pretend she can actually see the tiny numbers on the paper in front of her. “Get to it. I’ll be doing inventory in the back if you need me.”

We’re standing there, hands still together, eyes still locked on one another’s even after Betty gets up and walks away. The bell over the door chimes and snaps me out of my Andy spell. I quickly pull my hand and eyes away from him and clear my throat. 

“Nice to meet you, Andy,” I croak out. My voice sounds nothing like my usual assertive self.

He nods only once as I take a step back from him and his eyes move over my face to my shoulders, then lower… lower… lower. All the way down to my black Chucks. Now back up to my eyes. He still says nothing.

OK, this should be loads of fun. He might be hot, but is anything going on in that pretty head?

“Um, so has Betty shown you around yet? Have you met Mark? He’s the cook.”

He shakes his head twice. He’s still making eye contact with me, and I start to wonder if he’s challenging me. 

What’s this guy’s deal? Does he hate me already? He doesn’t even know me. 

Whatever. I can’t dwell on this. Just because he’s ridiculously hot and has a face like David Beckham with perfectly tousled California surfer hair doesn’t mean I have to give a shit. He’s just a person. He puts his pants on one leg at a time, just like I do. Oh, God, now I’m thinking about him with no pants on.

NO! Stop it! He’s just a regular person. Just an ordinary guy. Andy is his name. And he’s just like every other guy at your high school. Except there’s NO WAY he’s still in high school. Still. Just a guy. Chill.

“Not a talker, huh? OK, well, this is the bar, that’s the kitchen. I’ll introduce you to Mark in a minute. He’s great, but you should know he doesn’t make mistakes. So, if a customer complains about something being wrong, it’s your fault. Every time. Even if it isn’t. Mark is never ever wrong because your tips depend on Mark’s goodwill and willingness to make your food perfectly and quickly, so Mark doesn’t make mistakes. Catch my drift?” I don’t wait for him to respond. I walk behind the bar and get one of our regulars, Shelley, who just walked in, her usual cup of coffee.

“I’ll be right back, Shelley. Just showing the new guy around.” She nods, but she’s looking at him, not at me. I can’t blame her. Even at 40-something, she can appreciate a perfect specimen of a man when she sees one.

Stop this! Just. A. Regular. Person.

“Grab that bundle of boxes, please? I want to take these out before we get busy, and I know Betty will just do it herself if she sees them here. No need for a 67-year-old lady to take out the trash when there are a couple of healthy teenagers around to do it, right? Not that I’m assuming you’re a teenager. I’m sure you’re not. Obviously, you’re an adult. I mean, I am too, technically. I just turned 18. Not that it matters. Anywayyyyy…” This is going terribly. The last time I felt this nervous was when I had to give a speech in front of the whole school at the last minute because Cameron McCarthy got food poisoning and principal Bennett somehow thought it would be a good idea for me to do it even though I had done no public speaking before. It felt like some sort of sick punishment, though I don’t know what I did to deserve it.

As we walk out the back, I set an old brick against the door to prop it open and prepare myself to haul the garbage bags over the dumpster when a hand catches mine. Andy grabs both garbage bags and tosses them in with seemingly no effort at all. I would have grunted my way through that for sure. 

And that’s when it happens. I hear his voice.

“There’s a bit of red in your hair. I thought it was brown when we were inside, but there’s some red in it.”

My. Heart. Stops.

His voice is luscious. It’s velvet. It’s smooth and soft and I might ask him to read the freezer manual later just so I can hear it again.

Please speak again, sweet blonde angel.

I now register that his amber eyes are glued to my green ones, yet again. He’s got a crooked smile, and a dimple has the audacity to pop at the very moment he reaches for a lock of my hair on my shoulder.

Am I dead? Is this heaven?

“Th-Thank you.” It comes out of me in a whisper. “For the garbage bags, I mean.” I hate that my voice cracks as I say it.

“No need for a perfectly capable 18-year-old to take out the trash when there’s an equally capable 21-year-old here to do it, right?” And now he’s fully smiling at me. His teeth are perfect. His eyes crinkle around the edges. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my entire life. He’s stunning. “Should we go see what Shelley wants to order?” He asks, taking his hand back and looking away towards the open door.

“Uh-huh.” That is all I manage. I need to snap out of this. What the hell is happening to me?

We take Shelley’s order, and more people trickle in for lunch. Andy stays close to me the entire afternoon and when I introduce him to customers, he waves his hand and says, “hello” then flashes them all that goddamn million-dollar smile. I swear everyone takes at least five seconds to recover from seeing his perfect dimple appear on his perfect face. Have I mentioned that he's perfect yet?

The rest of the shift goes by quickly. Andy, I’ve realized, is a bit of a gentleman. He reaches for the ketchup on a too-tall shelf when he sees me struggling, carries the heavy trays of drinks for me, and clears all the tables before I can get to them.

At 3:45, the restaurant phone rings, and Betty picks it up. “Oh, hey there, Douglas. You didn’t come in to say hello earlier!” It’s my dad calling. Of course, Betty is giving him shit for not coming in to see her. I wonder why he’s calling here. “Oh, don’t you worry about it. You stay and fix that sink for Eva. I’ll have Andy, the new kid, drive her home. He’s a sweet boy and I’m sure he won’t mind at all.” She winks at me and Andy.  I am paralyzed. Stunned. What just happened? I see Betty hang up and she explains my dad needs more time with the sink, so Andy will drive me home. “In fact,” she says, “why don’t you pick her up for the next week, Andy? You’ll be working the same shifts anyway and Douglas has been so busy lately. It’s hard for him to be driving Elaina now that Owen’s deployed.”

“Of course, Mrs. Wilson. I’d be happy to.” He has a genuine smile on his face, like he’s pleased about this awkward turn of events.

“Oh no, that’s OK. I can just walk,” I blurt. I’m not about to get in a car with a hot model when I’m greasy and smell like hamburgers!

And then Mother Nature, in all her impeccable timing, ruins my plans. A loud clap of thunder makes me jump. Shit. My chin hits my chest and I huff out a laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Of course,” I mumble.

“Let’s go, Miss Daisy.” Andy comes up beside me and nudges me lightly with his elbow.

I grab my purse and jacket and walk out the door behind him. Even though it's chilly and raining, I don't bother taking the time to put on my jacket. I just want to leave.

He opens the passenger door after I follow him to a white pickup truck. Sparks of electricity touch over every inch of my skin when he takes my hand to help me inside. I’m thankful for the few seconds he takes to walk around to the driver’s side so my heart-rate can recover.

“So where to, Elaina?”

“Um, Glendale. Do you know where it is? Oh, right, you’re new in town. Of course, you don’t. I’m sorry. I’ll give you directions. Make a left out of here. Also, I’m sorry about Betty. You don’t have to pick me up and drive me home. You’re not a chauffeur or a taxi. And I can pay you for gas for today. Thank you for taking me home. Again, I’m so sorry.” Breathe, idiot. Breathe. I look down at my lap, wishing I could just disappear when I feel his hand on my chin. He tilts it up so I’m again the sole recipient of his hot amber gaze.

“Hey, don’t do that. Where’s the confident girl I just saw serve nine tables at a time without writing a single order down or making one mistake? You knew people’s names, and you asked about their family members. When that toddler started screaming, you knew exactly what to do. You don’t seem like someone who apologizes for something you didn’t do. Mrs. Wilson wants me to get to know people, and I think she was forcing you to be the first person. So, I’m sorry. You don’t have to do this if you don't want to.”

His thumb is drawing small circles on my chin, and I think I understand how people get hypnotized now. Looking at his eyes, feeling his thumb’s lazy movement, listening to his smooth voice… I’m enchanted.

“Elaina? Did you hear me?” His eyes narrow as they roam over my face and I wonder what he sees. The redness of my cheeks from him touching me? The likely smeared mascara under my eyes from sweat? The frizz of my hair thanks to the 1000% humidity levels?

“Uh-huh. Yes. Um. Yeah.” I clear my throat. He removes his hand from my chin. His eyes don’t let mine go as I will my mouth not to beg for him to touch me again. “You don’t have to apologize either. You shouldn’t be forced to get to know anyone, so don’t worry about it. You don’t have to get to know me. Don’t do anything you don’t want to do.” I see his brows furrow now, like he’s aggravated.

He takes a slow, deep breath. “I do want to get to know you. I just spent five hours with you, and I already like you. You’re kind. You work hard. You’re polite. You make people laugh. When you are concentrating, you hum." At that, he smirks and ohmygodddddd it's the kind of smirk you see at the end of a runway, on the cover of a magazine, on billboards with cologne ads. "You make eye contact with everyone, even if it goes on for so long, it borders on weird and uncomfortable.”

I can’t help the peal of laughter escapes me. “You did that on purpose?” My voice comes out a little too high-pitched and I smack him on the shoulder. “I thought you were trying to read my thoughts or something. What the hell, man?” And now both my hands are waving in the air frantically because I am a hand talker. As in, I talk with my hands, especially when I’m excited or pissed off or just have any sort of feelings. So always. I am always a hand talker. Blame it on my Greek mother.

He laughs, and I now absolutely cannot contain myself. He has the goofiest laugh I’ve ever heard and the sound is both confusing and wonderful. How can this Abercrombie model of a man laugh like this? Now I’m laughing, and he’s laughing and I don’t even know what we’re laughing at anymore, but we laugh and laugh until I feel tears in my eyes.

“OK, stop,” I say, finally. “You have to stop. Please! Stop laughing!”

Eventually, he does, and I do too. And now we’re looking at each other with big smiles on our faces. It feels… nice. Easy. Huh.

“So, here’s what we’re gonna do,” he says. “I’m going to pick you up and drive you home for the next few shifts we work together. Maybe you can even show me around since I’m the new guy and all, and by then I’ll be fully trained.” His brows furrow and he licks his lower lip. I feel my eyes widen and immediately look down at my lap to hide my reaction. “We’ll probably be working opposite shifts and we’ll never see each other for more than a few minutes between shifts after this. Sound good?”

No! Sounds awful. I want to see you every day and hear you laugh and kiss that dimple. AAAAAAAH! What? Oh my god. WHAT?

“Um. Sure,” I mumble.

“Mrs. Wilson won’t let me get away with not following through on her plan, anyway. I may have only met the lady twice, but I can tell she’s not someone you mess with.” His eyebrows jump up on his forehead like he fears Betty. I like that he calls her Mrs. Wilson.

“You’re right. Don’t mess with her.” I smile at him. “OK, then. Do you want to start your tour of town now? Or should we start Monday when we work together again?”

“What? Really?” His brows are still up near his hairline, but now he looks surprised. “Yeah. Yeah, OK. Let’s get started now!” And at the sound of excitement in his voice, I giggle. I picture Andy as a little boy being told he can have ice cream after dinner. So cute!

Stop this! Regular person! Remember that insane laugh?

He turns the car on and smiles. “Tell me where to go.”

By the time I got home that evening, my cheeks were hurting from all the smiling. Andy is sweet and seems to like Marblehead. He enjoyed seeing the marina, and I promised him we’d go back to walk around when it was not pouring rain. When he picked me up Monday afternoon for our shift, he came to the door and introduced himself to my parents. Of course, my mother was smitten when he called them Mr. and Mrs. James, though my parents insisted on Doug and Eva. When he dropped me off that evening, he walked me to the door because it was dark out, as if I was in any danger walking 20 feet from his truck to my front door.

On Wednesday when we worked together again, he also came to the door. He had a chocolate chip cookie for me that his aunt Mel had made. He said he remembered me mentioning that I liked chocolate chip cookies best, so he brought me the last one instead of eating it himself. He asked lots of questions about me but never talked about his own life too much. I found out that his parents are both older and retired, living in Grand Rapids, which is where he grew up. They had him late in life and so he came to spend the Spring and Summer with his aunt Mel. He said he just needed a change and when he quickly changed the subject, and I didn’t push it.

The only way I got to know any information about him was when customers would ask him where he was from. He was attending Michigan Tech and majoring in Electrical Engineering. He left the day he finished his finals and drove here. He doesn’t have a girlfriend (thank you, Monica, for being the town gossip). His favorite color is yellow, and he doesn't have any siblings. The people in this town are very nosey.

Now it'a Friday afternoon and Friday afternoon and before he even steps out of his truck, I'm already running out towards the passenger door. He doesn't get the chance to open it for me and when he gets back into the car, he's frowning.

“Hey, grumpy pants.” I flash him my biggest smile. I had a feeling he wouldn’t like me stepping on his chivalrous toes much.

“Are you in a hurry?” His face softens as he takes in my smiling face and I hand him an oatmeal cookie - his favorite, which I remember him mentioning Wednesday at the diner when Shelley asked him what he liked to eat.

“Nope. I just like to get there a little early on Fridays to make sure everything is in order. It’ll get busy with high school kids and locals out on dates and whatnot.” I put my seatbelt on and wipe the goofy smile off my face. I notice he's still holding on to the cookie and staring at me.

“This is for me?” His brows do that cute thing where they both furrow inwards and upwards and I sit on my hands to keep from smoothing out the lines with my fingertips.

“Yeah. You said it’s your favorite, so I made some last night. Sorry, I only have one. My mom ended up taking them all to school to share with the other teachers. I pretty much had to wrestle her for this one!” I wince a little and look down at my lap, suddenly feeling lame for handing him a cookie, even though it was so sweet when he did it for me.

“No. No. This is… this is really nice, Elaina. Thank you.” He flashes me that gosh darn dimple as I look up at him again and I see him place the cookie in the glove compartment as if it’s made of delicate crystal. As he reaches over my lap, I can smell his aftershave. I take a deep breath in and hope he doesn’t notice me blatantly sniffing him. Before he sits back in his seat again, he reaches out and touches my knee. His eyes hold me captive and he says, “Thank you again. No one has ever baked me anything before.” He squeezes lightly before placing his hand on the steering wheel.

I can’t hide my look of shock - both at the fact that he just touched me, something he so rarely does, and that he just said no one has ever baked for him. What about birthday cakes? Maybe he just didn’t count those. All I manage to say is, “Oh. Well, you’re welcome.”

He backs out of the driveway and we drive in comfortable silence to the diner, listening to Kings of Leon. A smile never leaves my face because I know he put it on for me. I told him they were one of my favorite bands on Monday.

The whole town quickly falls in love with Andy, and instead of us never seeing one another after those first few shifts together, we see each other almost every day. Andy picks me up when our schedules match and he started doing it when he had the day off, too. Sometimes he’ll sit at the diner when it isn't busy to keep me company. It’s always nice having him near. I didn’t know I was missing this kind of friendship in my life, but he makes everything feel fun and easy. Even if I hope almost every day that he saw me as more than his only friend in this tiny town.

On a warm spring night when the air is fragrant with the scent of new blooms and crackly with the call of crickets, my world changes. I stand next to Andy during a rare shift together, filling salt shakers in a way that has become all too familiar between us over the past weeks. He always helps me do this, even when he's not working. He says it's soothing, just standing next to me, watching the way the salt moves.

As I laugh at some silly remark he's just made, I feel his hand come under my chin, lifting my gaze to meet his. My whole body comes alive at the touch, sending me back to that first day we met. Then his gentle lips are brushing against mine. He tastes like the cinnamon gum he's always chewing on and his lips feel like silk against mine. The kiss is sweet and timid, just like the boy who makes my world spin a little slower and my heart beat a whole lot faster.

“Go on a date with me,” he whispers onto my lips. He kisses the tip of my nose and straightens, taking the warmth of his breath with him. “Tomorrow night. Neither of us is working.”

I can’t process this. Is this a game to him? There’s no way he wants to take me out. He’s 21 and gorgeous. I’ve seen the way our female customers (of all ages) look at him. He can have any one of them. He’s not going to take me along on this little prank or whatever this is.

“What? You’re not serious. And I don’t like being toyed with, Andy, so let’s just go, ok? We're done here anyway.” I honestly don’t know how to react to what he’s saying. Part of me thinks he’s just playing a game with me and another part is far too hopeful that he’s not. But there's no way this is real. I'm so far out of his league. We're not even the same sport. He's hockey and I'm baseball.

I storm out of the diner and into the parking lot. He follows closely behind. “Don't play games with me! I might be younger than you, and you probably caught on to the fact that I have a crush on you, but this is too far!” I’m just about to reach his truck when he gently takes hold of my elbow and turns me back toward him. One of his hands grips my waist and my breathing immediately quickens. The anger is pouring out of me in hot waves, but when he touches me, all the waves crash and the warmth that spreads through me is entirely different.

“Elaina,” he whispers my name. Our faces are close now, but I can still see his eyes clearly. He licks his lips before he speaks again. “I would never play games with you. Go on a date with me. Please.”

We stand there staring at each other for an eternity. I am stunned silent. I’m sure it looks like my eyes are going to pop out of my head. I’m still breathing heavily and I can’t describe this weighty feeling in my stomach right now.

“I’ve wanted to ask you out since the first day we worked together. Since that Saturday 18 days ago. I’ve been trying to work up the courage every day since. I thought the chocolate chip cookie would be a good way in and then I froze. But I can’t wait anymore.” His grip on my waist tightens and my hands come to rest on his forearms because I need to touch him, especially when he’s saying what I think he’s saying, which is that he likes me. Me! He wants to take me on a date. For real!

His eyes are still intently on mine. I can see the amber in them now. I hold his gaze and nod. “Yes. Ok. If this really isn’t a game, you can take me on a date tomorrow night.” I slip away from his grip and get in the truck because I don’t think I can handle his stare or our proximity any longer.

He drives me home in silence. Again, it’s comfortable, but the air is definitely charged with something different now. I catch him sneaking glances at me, and for the first time since we met, I’m glad it’s a short 7-minute drive to my house. I’m all out of sorts trying to process this. Him.

When we arrive, I quickly open my passenger door. “See you tomorrow night, Andy. Thanks for the ride.” I need to get inside to digest what just happened. There are too many thoughts, too many feelings.

I hear his truck door open and close and as I’m about to grab the front door handle, he reaches for my shoulder and turns me around for the second time tonight with such gentleness.

He smiles. Slowly, the dimple comes out to taunt me. His stare moves from my eyes, to my nose, to my lips, and then his right hand is on my cheek.

He takes a deep, slow breath. “This isn’t a game, Lainey." He called me by my nickname. The one only my friends and family uses. I have never loved that nickname as much as I love it coming out of Andy’s mouth. I’m staring at his lips as he keeps talking. "I like you. I want to spend time with you. Outside of work and the 7-minute drive to your house.” His voice is low and rumbly now. “I want to pick you up tomorrow night. I want to take you on a date you’ll never forget.” His thumb brushes across my lower lip. “I want to end it with a kiss that leaves you out of breath. And then I want a second date, and a third, and so on.”

His other hand goes to my waist and I brace myself by placing my hands on his biceps, our forearms touching. 

He takes another deep breath before he continues. “I want to make you feel the way you make me feel. Do you know how you make me feel, Lainey?” I shake my head, certain that my knees would give out were we not holding on to one another so tightly now.

“You make me feel lightheaded just from being near you, restless when I can’t hear your voice, desperate for the next time I'll hear your laugh, and completely crazy because I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. There’s more, but I want to tell you slowly. I don’t want to scare you by saying too much.”

I’m floating. My feet have left the ground. Either that or this is a dream. I have definitely died and gone to heaven. Maybe all of the above.

Andy places a kiss on the tip of my nose and when he speaks again, his voice is almost a whisper. “I’ll see you at 6 tomorrow, Elaina. Goodnight.”

And just like that, his sweet touches are gone, and the skin that was once on fire is now ice cold, missing his hands. How the heck am I supposed to make it until tomorrow?

I’m losing my damn mind. I’ve showered and shaved my legs because I’m wearing a dress. I added loose waves to my hair, put on some light makeup and I’m fully dressed now. I even put heels on. My dad knocks lightly on my door. I know it's him by the two quick taps followed by a pause then the third knock.

“Come in, Dad.” I try to smile at him, but I’m afraid it comes off more like a grimace.

“Hey Lainey girl. How you doin’? Ready for your date?” He has his hands in his pockets now and he stays at the door, seemingly afraid to come in because he no doubt heard me throwing things around 20 minutes ago when I was trying on everything I own.

“I’m nervous, dad. I’ve never felt nervous for a date before.” My palms are sweaty already. 

Oh God, this is going to be a disaster!

“Oh, sweetheart. That’s normal. Are you nervous because you don’t really want to go or because you really like him?”

It should be weird to talk to my dad and not my mom about this, right? But it’s not. He’s just so cool about this stuff. And still a protective dad through and through.

“I really like him, Dad. He’s so nice to me, and I’ve never liked a boy like this before. I just like being around him. He makes me feel safe and important. I’m not worried he won’t like me anymore. I know he likes me because he told me. And I believe him. It’s just that… is seven minutes each way in the car and a few weeks of serving tables side by side really enough time to know if there might be something special between us?” Dad just watches me pace around the room, processing my feelings out loud as I do. “I think I’m nervous because… I don’t know… I just hope we keep liking each other after tonight.” I’m biting my lip, wondering if I’ve said too much when I see my dad’s grin across his whole face.

“Lainey girl, that’s exactly the right kind of nervous to be. And if he’s being honest with you, just be honest with him. You can’t go wrong if you just keep communicating with each other. Ok?” He walks over and gives me one of his very best bear hugs. I’m entirely wrapped up in him and he kisses the top of my head. The doorbell rings and he slowly pulls away. “Let’s go say hi to your date.”

When we get downstairs, we see my mom has already opened the door, and she’s making small-talk with Andy. My dad walks over and they share a handshake. Andy looks downright illegal in his dark blue suit, white shirt, and blue tie. He doesn’t really seem to notice me and just gives me a quick nod.

“Sir. How’re you doing tonight?” Andy’s voice is surprisingly even for someone greeting my 6’3” father. Though I suppose they have met before. He didn’t seem to have any reaction to seeing me in a dress. In fact, he’s hardly looked at me. But I can't take my eyes off of him. Andy in his Betty's uniform? Adorable. Andy in a well-fitted t-shirt and jeans? Mouthwatering. Andy in a suit? Practically X-rated.

I don’t hear the conversation the three of them are having. I’m too caught up watching Andy’s lips move. When he finally looks at me, appearing to have asked a question, I snap out of it. I think he asked me if I’m ready. He tucks my hand into the crook of his elbow and guides me out the door. I wave to my parents and we’re on our way.

Once the front door is closed, just as we step off the front porch, Andy leans down and whispers in my ear. “Lainey, you look– you are stunning.” I’m immediately glad I went with the dark green dress that hits a few inches above my knee with a modest neckline and cap sleeves. I guess he noticed after all.

Smiling, I look up at him and say, “Thank you. You look– you are very handsome, Andy.” I feel myself blushing and it makes me feel better to see his cheeks are a bit rosy as well. He helps me into my seat then fixes the collar of his shirt as he walks around the truck.

When he gets in the driver’s seat, he’s seemingly back to his old self, but I still feel butterflies in my stomach. When he turns on the car, Taylor Swift’s “Love Story” is coming through the speakers. 

“You’re a Taylor fan?” I look over at him, amazed and smiling because he just keeps surprising me. 

“No, but you are.” He says this as he takes my hand and brings it to his lips. They leave the softest kiss on the backs of my fingers. I feel breathless already and he hasn’t even kissed my lips yet.  I realize he remembers when I mentioned in passing to a customer last week that I’d enjoyed the latest Taylor Swift album.

“You really pay attention to everything, don’t you?” My hand is still in his, on the center console, and he’s drawing circles on my knuckles with his thumb. 

“I pay attention to you, Lainey.” And then the dimple is there and I have to fight the urge to reach out and touch it. Kiss it. Lick it. 

Say whaaaaaaat?!? I’ve never licked a person before. Where did that come from?

“Ummm. So… where are we going?” I ask as I rub my palm on my dress. Am I sweaty? Ugh.

“Not too far. Just to Bay Harbor.” He’s so calm that it actually aggravates me more. It’s like I’m the only one affected by even the thought of tonight. And I keep thinking about how he said he wants to kiss me. I keep hoping he actually does.

The drive is about 20 minutes, and we spend it listening to Taylor Swift, which isn’t helping my lovey dovey feelings for Andy at all. I am very affected by music, and by the time “You Belong with Me” comes on I feel like I might burst.

We finally arrive at the restaurant and I’m snapped out of my dimple-licking fantasies. It’s right on the water and the sun is slowly setting. Dinner is perfect. Andy and I talk about our favorite customers from the past week. Books we’ve read. Favorite movies. Music. It’s all very typical first date conversation. He still doesn’t share too much about his family or his friends, so I don’t press him on it. I share my plans with him to take a semester off and go study abroad before claiming my major at NYU in a year or two, and he seems genuinely excited for me.

After dinner, we walk down the street to the theater. There’s a production of Romeo and Juliet. Andy holds my hand the entire first act and during the second he puts his arm around the back of my seat, that thumb working overtime on drawing circles on the back of my neck. I have goosebumps all over. I can’t wait for this play to end, so Andy can kiss me again. I'm so restless I'm afraid he can feel the jitteriness of my limbs and how I'm having a hard time taking full breaths.

Finally, the play ends. It's lovely and beautiful, of course, I just can't focus on anything but him and the overwhelming need for him to touch me more. We walk back to his truck hand-in-hand. “One more stop,” he says, looking over at me with a shy smile on his gorgeous face. “It’ll be quick. It just might be a little too far to walk in heels.” We get into the truck and drive 5 blocks down the street. His thoughtfulness about my footwear sends a funny feeling right to the center of my stomach.

He pulls up to a cafe with a large sign reading ‘Gelato’. There’s another sign flashing the word “OPEN” which is surprising considering it’s 9:45 pm. I watch as he jogs around the truck to help me down. He’s smiling, biting his lower lip. My heart is beating so fast, knowing he’s about to help me down from his truck since I almost landed on my face last time, thanks to these heels.

He opens my door and when he puts both hands around my waist, I put my arms around his neck and just before my feet touch the ground, I push myself right up against him. Getting out of his truck is now a full contact sport. Our bodies are touching everywhere. 

I hear him let out a sharp breath. His eyes are closed and when he opens them, my gaze meets his. I lift my chin and part my lips. “Lainey…” and hearing him whisper my nickname does me in. I reach up and brush our lips together. “Lainey…” he whispers again. 

I let out a slow breath before working up the nerve to say “Andy, please kiss m-“ 

His lips are all over mine, soft and sweet. He nips at my bottom lip and I instinctively open up for him letting my tongue brush against his. My hands are in his hair now and his are on my hips, my waist, my back. His touch is soft but firm and everywhere he touches feels like warm, dripping honey. I never want to stop kissing him. Never want to not have his hands on me. 

Our kiss becomes more intense, and I need to catch my breath. He seems to sense it and briefly breaks from kissing my lips to nip at my jaw and my neck. When he licks my earlobe I let out an embarrassingly loud gasp/moan combination. My grip tightens on his shoulders and I feel immediately hot and tingly all over. I arch my body into his trying to get even closer to him. Somehow I need more.

“Lainey,” he whispers a third time. He brushes his nose against mine, our hearts beating together, a million miles a minute.

One more gentle kiss on my lips, then one on the tip of my nose. There's a fire I haven't seen before in his copper eyes.

“Andy?” I close my eyes and wait for his response.

“Yes, my sweet girl.” I swoon. I melt. I disintegrate into the atmosphere, nothing but sparkly bits of glitter floating in the Spring air.

“I’m out of breath. You’ve left me breathless. Are you happy now?”

I feel his shoulders shake as a deep chuckle escapes him and my heart does about 17 backflips at the sound. 

“You have no idea how happy I am right now. No idea.” 

I open my eyes and see that his are now closed. Our foreheads come together. He’s smiling and I can actually see the joy written all over his face. 

“I want to kiss you again. I don’t ever want to stop.” My admission feels immediately raw and embarrassing. I can’t believe I said those words out loud. 

“Me too, Lainey. Me too. But first, let’s get some gelato, ok?” He places both of his hands on my cheeks. I nod and when he lets my face go, I reach out to hold his hand, pulling him towards the cafe doors.

“Wait.” He’s quiet, looking down at the ground when he says “I just… I just need a minute.” I bite down on my bottom lip to keep from smiling or giggling. It feels pretty good to know he was as affected by that kiss as I was.

Once we’re inside, he never takes his hand off of me. Not even as we eat gelato side by side. His hand always finds its way into mine, onto my shoulder, and even, just once, on my knee. 

When he drives me home, we sit back in that comfortable silence. Both stealing glances at one another. Both smiling. He might not be much of a talker, but he’s just so easy to be around.

By 11:00 he’s pulling into my driveway and I’m dreading the fact this night is about to end. Andy helps me out of the car again, but I don’t dare repeat my body skimming tricks now. Not when my parents could be watching. 

Andy holds my hand as we walk to the front door. 

“Thank you for tonight, Andy. I’ll never forget it. Did…did you have a good time?” As soon as I ask the question, I feel like an idiot. Like a child. But he smiles that dimple-popping smile and everything feels right.

“Yeah, Lainey. I had the best time. But I hope you know I want that second date. And then a third. Remember?” He’s facing me as he brings my hand up to his face and kisses my knuckles.

My voice cracks and my eyelids flutter as I respond. “You can have them all.” And when those words leave my lips his smile takes over his whole face. He leans down and kisses me with that same softness as the first time and whispers over my lips, “You’re so much more than I ever could have dreamed of, my sweet girl.”

I feel myself melt all over again. My sweet girl. I loved hearing my name on his lips so many times tonight. How does one swoon? Does it require fainting of any kind? Because I might be there soon. 

“Did you mean what you said?” He looks at me with a furrow in his brows now. 

“I always mean what I say, but what specifically are you asking about?” I find it hard not to stare at his mouth or lick my lips so I can taste him there again. 

“When you said I can have all the dates. The second and third...” He looks worried. Almost a little sad. 

I straighten and place my fingers on his jaw. “Of course I did.”

And at once the furrow is gone. His eyes soften and a crooked smile appears on his face. “Good.” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “I’ll come pick you up Monday afternoon for your shift.”

“You will? But you don’t have to do that anymore and we don’t work the same —“ 

“Lainey. I want to. I want to see you and be near you. Plus, if your dad really is so busy, I’d like to at least take this away from him. Let me help.” He seals his statement with a deadly brush of his thumb over my bottom lip. 

“Ok. Ok. Thank you.” I can’t think of anything else to say. 

He smiles and shakes his head as his eyes roam over every inch of my face. “I’ll see you soon, sweet girl.” He kisses my hand again and walks backwards, away from me.

I smile and say, “I’ll see you in my dreams.” And again, that big smile, dimple included, appears on his face, and I swear I see his eyes twinkle. 

I smile the entire way to my room. I smile as I brush my teeth, put my pjs on and pull the sheets over me. I’m pretty sure I smile all night as I dream of Andy’s lips on my hands, my neck, my lips… 

It’s been two weeks since our first date and Andy has picked me up and driven me home from every shift I’ve worked. I think Betty has everything to do with the fact that we’ve either worked the same shifts or at completely different times, so Andy can still drive me. He promised me he doesn’t mind and will gladly take any excuse to be next to me.

It’s Saturday night, and he’s driving me home when he says, “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything you want.” Curse my mouth being faster than my brain. It feels like everything I say to Andy lately is suggestive. All I think about is his body and his hands on mine. We’ve kissed a lot these past two weeks, but nothing else. His hands never deviate from my waist or my face. I don’t know how to tell him I want more.

Before I can finish my thought, he asks, “Are you going to your prom?”

“Um, yes.” I answer quickly, though the question came out of nowhere. I haven’t brought up prom to him. I try not to talk about high school too much. I mean, he’s 21, I’m sure he doesn’t want to listen to my petty high school shit.

“Do you have a date?” He never takes his eyes off the road and his face is void of expression, but his grip tightens on the wheel, which I've never seen him do before.

“No, we’re going as a group. Some people have dates but a few of us don’t.” I’m sitting on my hands now, wondering where the hell he’s going with this. Of course I don’t have a date. I’m dating HIM, aren’t I? We arrive at my house. Because of course we do. This drive is so damn short.

He puts the truck in park and turns towards me. “If it’s not too late, I’d really like to take you to your prom, Lainey. I know this isn’t a fancy way of asking or anything, but a boyfriend should take his girlfriend to prom, right? And I want to take you.” His face is still blank.

“Your girlf... boyfr… you want…PROM?” A chocking sound comes out of me and I’m looking everywhere but at him. I hear him unbuckle his seatbelt, then unbuckle mine. He takes my sweaty hands in his.

“Yes. Girlfriend. Boyfriend. Prom.” He’s smiling, like my little freak out amuses him. He kisses my knuckles, looking at me with such warmth it takes all my words away. “Lainey?”

I clear my throat. For some reason I have to blink back tears. Why do I feel like crying? “Andy, I… You don’t have to. I’m sure you already went to prom once, you shouldn’t have to do it twice. Really…”

“Actually, I never went to my prom. And Lainey, I know I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do. Is it really so hard for you to believe I want to be with you? All the time? Is it so hard for you to believe I want to see you all dressed up? That I want to slow dance with you and hold you? Because I want to do all of that, Lainey. With you. Only with you.”

Annnnnd now I am crying. “How do you do that? You say all these amazing things and make me feel ways I've never felt. I don’t know what to do with it all sometimes.”

He wipes away my tears with his thumbs and when another escapes, he kisses it away. He doesn’t respond to me. Not with words. He just kisses my cheeks and looks at me in a way that makes me feel treasured. Adored.

I stop crying and look at his eyes. “I have a question for you, too.”

He just nods, those amber eyes roaming over my face.

“Why did you start calling me Lainey? You never call me Elaina anymore.”

Andy pauses, looks into my eyes and smiles. “Elaina is a beautiful name, but it’s so serious. Formal. Lainey just feels more like the sweet, bubbly person I see you as. I heard your dad use the nickname and it just suited you so perfectly.” 

“Yes.” I say, a little too loudly.

“Yes, what, Lainey?” He cocks his head to the side, faking confusion. I know he wants to hear me say it.

“Yes. Girlfriend. Boyfriend. Prom.”

We both start laughing, and before I know it, his lips are on mine. We kiss for so long my lips start to feel numb. And I still want more of it. Of him. It all feels just so good. So right.

As always, Andy ends the kiss slowly, kisses me on the tip of my nose and walks me to my door.

“Goodnight, my sweet girl.”

Prom was lovely. Andy looked amazing in his tux and matched his tie to my lavender dress. He got along with all of my friends and actually seemed to have a good time. We slow danced and he told me I looked beautiful about a hundred times. After prom there was a small gathering of just our group at my friend Shannon’s house and we camped out in the field behind her house. I thought Andy might try to fool around, or maybe even have sex. We haven’t talked about it, but we’ve been together for over a month now and though I’ve never wanted to take this step with any other guy, I want to with him. I know he’s not a virgin like me, but it doesn’t bother me because of the way he treats me every day. He’s sweet and kind, respectful and gentle. He’s always the one who puts on the breaks. So now that prom is over I need to make my intentions clearer.

It’s Friday night and Andy is picking me up in a few minutes. I put on my favorite skinny jeans and a soft pink off the shoulder sweater with a lacy black bralette. Yes, I’m trying to tempt my boyfriend into doing more than just kissing me. I’m aching for him to touch me. I have never ached for anything in my life!

When I open the door, I see his eyes roam all over my body, lingering just a second longer on my bare shoulder and the black lace that peeks through just slightly where the edge of my sweater rests low on my chest.

“H-hi.” His voice cracks and I reel in the smile that wants to break out on my face. It's on!

“Hey!” I say, in a perfectly normal tone, loving the effect this outfit is having on him already.

“Hi.” He repeats. I giggle and shut the door, sneaking a soft kiss on his lips as I walk past him.

“Where do you want to go tonight?” He clears his throat and reaches for the passenger door. “You said you wanted to plan our date, so just tell me where to drive.”

I wait until he walks around to the driver’s side before answering him. “I thought maybe we could go get some burgers and fries from Pete's? I've been craving something greasy all day. Then there’s a great spot where we can see the sunset. How does that sound?”

“Sounds great.” He sounds like he’s recovered from getting a peek at my bra, so we’re able to make simple conversation on the way to get dinner. Then I navigate him to a spot Shannon told me about. It’s her uncle’s property and he’s on vacation, so there’s no one there. We have a gorgeous view of the lake as the sun sets as we eat our food.

I set my fries down and lick my fingertips, not missing the way Andy fumbles with his own fries, dropping a few on his lap.

“Here, let me help you,” I say as I start to brush the salt off his lap.

He quickly grabs my wrist, just as my hand reaches higher on his thigh. He moves his seat back and reaches for a few fries he dropped at his feet. He doesn’t know it, but he’s just given me exactly what I want. While he finishes cleaning up, I shift in my seat. When he looks up I’m already halfway to his lap. He has no time to stop me, and honestly I think he’s too shocked to even do anything at this point.

“Lainey, what are you–” I stop his nonsensical talking with a kiss. I start soft and slow, waiting for him to catch up. I feel his tongue slide across my upper lip and open up for him, letting out a sigh of appreciation. Our kiss deepens and I grip his hair with one hand, the other one sliding down his chest to his stomach. I feel his muscles clench as he groans. I need to hear that sound again immediately.

“Lainey, we should slow down.” I stop my hands and bring our foreheads together. I can’t see his eyes, but I can feel his quick breaths.

“Andy, I want you. I want your hands on me. I want my hands on you. I want you to kiss me all over. Please. Don’t you want me?”

“I want you so badly, Lainey, you have no idea. But I don’t want to rush anything. I don’t want to rush you.” His hands are stroking my lower back slowly.

“You’re not rushing me. I'm asking you for more. I'll tell you if I can't handle it. Ok?” Our breathing has evened out a bit more now and I move my face away so I can see his eyes.

He nods, and immediately I start kissing him again, picking up where we left off. I feel his hands travel towards my hips as his hold tightens and I revel in the knowledge that he wants me.

Yes, this. I want THIS!

He moves his hands up my my thighs and slides his fingers under my sweater. The skin-to-skin contact sends goosebumps all over my body and I scoot closer to him. Our centres meet and I feel it. I feel him. He’s so hard against me. His hands grip tightly around my ribs and he lets out another groan.

I instinctively start grinding against him right as his hand reaches my breast. I gasp and he stiffens. “It feels so good, Andy,” I reassure him so he’ll keep going. I keep moving against him, faster now and something is building up inside me. The feeling is like the tingles you get after your leg falls asleep. It starts at my toes and travels all the way to the back of my neck. 

He pinches my nipple lightly over my bralette and I grind harder against him. “Again,” I plead, and he obliges.

He groans again as he kisses my neck and whispers my name. “Lainey, my beautiful Lainey.” He bites my ear lobe then licks behind it and I lose all control.

“Andy I… what’s happen… Oh my god, Andy!” I see fireworks behind my tightly shut eyes as I arch back, still grinding into him. I feel Andy’s body stiffen and he groans again louder this time. On the outside, my body feels stiff, but inside it feels liquid. Like hot lava molding over every surface of Andy's body. I collapse on top of him and bury my face in his neck, panting.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Andy, I… I don’t know what just happened.” I’m still breathing hard, surprised I can get any coherent words out of my mouth.

He’s running his fingers through my hair with one hand and gently rubbing up and down my back with the other. “You just had an orgasm, sweet girl. How do you feel?”

“I can honestly say I have never been better. When can we do that again?” My body is limp on top of his and that’s when I feel the wetness on his lap. I flinch slightly and move so I’m sitting on his thighs, but keep my head on his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly into my hair.

“What? Does that mean you…? Oh. Oh! No, no. Andy, don’t be sorry.” I cradle his face with my hands so he can look at me, but he keeps his eyes low. “That just means you enjoyed this as much as I did. And we did it together. Please don’t be sorry about that, ok?”

“Well, when you put it like that… yeah. Ok.” His beautiful eyes finally meet mine and I let go of his face, resting my hands on his chest. He brings his own hand over mine, so that my hand is now over his heart. 

“Lainey,” he swallows and takes a deep breath. I can feel his heart beating fast. So, so fast. “I love you.” And now my heartbeat matches his.

“Andy, I—“

“No, you don’t have to say anything. You don’t have to say it back. I just wanted you to know. I wanted to look you in the eyes and tell you. That’s all.” God, this might be the best day of my life.

“Andy. Listen to me. What I was going to say…” I swallow the lump in my throat and close my eyes, working up the nerve to say the words I so badly need to get out. I open my eyes and continue. “What I was going to say is that I know. I know you love me. I feel your love. Every day. And I hope you feel mine too.”

He lets out a long breath, the smallest hint of a smile in the corners of his lips. I take his other hand and settle it over my heart. “I love you, Andy.”

I bring our foreheads together and we just sit like that for a long time. We say nothing else, we just sit and breathe one another in. When the silence is finally broken, it’s by the velvety voice I’ve loved since I first heard it. 

“I do. I do feel it.” He brings our lips together and whispers onto my mouth, “Thank you for loving me, Lainey.” Then he kisses me and I feel the devotion, the reverence and the honesty of the kiss. I feel it and I give it all right back to him. 

Weeks go by and Andy and I find every place possible to explore one another’s bodies. Usually it happens in his truck, but we’ve also been on his bed a few times. His aunt Mel works a lot and she doesn’t mind me coming over. She treats us both like we’re adults because, well, we are. My parents would never be this cool. 

We’ve also progressed from over the clothes to under. Just thinking about him touching me sends shivers up my back. I had no idea that it could feel this good to be with someone. He’s incredibly gentle and always asking me if I’m ok with what we’re doing. 

By the time July hits, I’m about ready to explode. I need more than just touching. I just don’t know how to tell him that yet. Sometimes he looks at me like I’m going to break. I get the feeling that he’s worried about what will happen when we both go to school. We haven’t talked about it. I tried bringing it up once and he just looked so sad. He reassured me we’d talk on the phone and that he wanted to be with me. To make it work. But his eyes… they were full of melancholy. I didn’t want to see him like that again. 

We took off for the weekend to camp with my friends. We're close to home, but it feels nice to get away from town for a couple of nights. 

Andy has been telling jokes and everyone just loves him. He’s just so easy to fall in love with, and I can see now that I’m not the only one who fell for his sweet disposition. 

Something’s changed though. I see him walk away from the crowd and I go over to him. “Hey, what’s going on?” I ask. 

He lets out a sigh. “Do you think we can leave soon? I’d really like to be with you. Only you.”

“Oh. We just got here and set up our tent for the weekend. You want to leave?” I'm a little annoyed and confused. We were supposed to be here until Sunday. Why would we leave?

I touch him gently on the arm and he takes another breath. It comes out choppy and sounds shallow. He closes his eyes and the next thing I know, I see Andy hunched over with his hands on his knees, chest heaving with heavy breaths. 

“Oh my god. Andy?” He doesn’t answer but I can see sweat is now dripping from his temple. I think he’s having a panic attack. “I don’t know what to do. I…” He looks up at me and I see that sadness in his eyes again, but also fear. I grab his shoulders and straighten his body. I place his hand over my heart and stand close to him. I don't know what to do, so I just act on instinct.

“Look at me. Andy… look at my eyes.” He does as I ask. His eyes are pleading and desperate. I take a deep breath. “Feel my heart, Andy. Listen to my breathing. Breathe with me.”

He shakes his head, silently telling me he can’t do it. “Yes, you can. You can do this.” I hold his eyes and start breathing slowly, keeping his hand on my heart. We stay like that for several minutes and eventually his breathing slows, little by little. 

Once he’s no longer panting and panicking, I wrap my arms around his neck and bring him close to me, whispering, “You’re ok. Everything is ok. I’m right here with you and I’m not leaving.” 

His grip on me is tight. So tight it almost hurts. He buries his head in my neck, in my hair and breathes me in. I’m thankful we don’t have much of a height difference at this moment. 

I continue to whisper reassurances to him and his grip slowly loosens around my waist and back. Finally he says, “I love you so much, Lainey.” His voice sounding thick and tired. 

I pull our bodies apart, cradling his face with my hands once again, and nod. “I know. And I love you, Andy.”

Now that he seems to be breathing normally, I reach into his pocket for his car keys. “I’m driving us home,” I say flatly. I know he's in no shape to drive. 

“Wait, what about your tent? We were supposed to stay here the weekend.” He looks at me with an apologetic look in his eyes.

“Andy, let’s go to your aunt’s house. I don’t think you need to be around people right now.” I take out my phone and text Shannon quickly, letting her know I’m not feeling well and will stay at Andy’s. I’ll grab my tent tomorrow. “There. I just texted Shannon.” And with that, I take his hand and start walking towards his truck. He follows closely and when I open the driver’s door to step in, he turns me around gently. 

“Are you mad?” His eyes search my whole face in the dimly lit field we’re parked in. He looks so...lost. Fragile, almost. 

Softly, I respond, “No. No, of course not. I’m just worried about you and I have a feeling that being around a bunch of rowdy teenagers and a big ass fire isn’t going to make you feel better. So I want to go to your room then I want to get into your bed and lay with you. Is that ok?”

He pulls me in and kisses my temple. I feel him let out a long sigh. “Yes. That would be perfect. Thank you, Lainey.”

The drive is quiet, and Andy keeps his hand on my thigh the whole time. When we arrive, we head straight upstairs. Mel is working late and I know she won’t mind that I’m here. The moment I walk into his room I start to undo my jeans.

“What are you doing?” Andy walks over and grabs my hands as if to stop my movements. 

“I want to get into bed with you. I’m not doing that with jeans on and neither are you.” I say this matter of factly, because it’s not like we’ve never seen one another mostly naked before. “You can turn around if this really makes you uncomfortable.”

And he does. He actually does. My sweet Andy turns around and waits until he hears me rustle the sheets. Then he takes off his jeans and slides into bed next to me. I give him my back so he can be the big spoon and we lay like that for a long time. His breathing is slow and even and I think he’s fallen asleep so I turn around, wanting to see his face. 

“You ok?” He whispers, brushing the hair off my temple, softly running his hands through it in a way that makes me feel both cherished and cared for. I love that he takes care of me even when I should be taking care of him.

I nod, looking at him and quietly say, “I want you to be my first, Andy.” Slowly I slip my fingers under the hem of his shirt to touch his back, moving my body closer to him so we’re flush with one another. 

“Lainey, you know how much I love you and want you, but we don’t have to do this.” He swallows hard and closes his eyes as I take his hand and place it over my breast.

“I know. I want to. I trust you and I want to give this part of myself to you.” I kiss him slowly, softly and start to pull his shirt up. He quickly removes it and we fumble to get mine off, unclasping my bra as well so that we’re both almost naked, lying side by side, just in our underwear now. 

When he slowly pulls my panties down, then does the same with his boxers, I feel… ready. I know this is the right person, the right moment. There is no one else I could ever want to do this for the first time with other than him. 

Andy kisses my neck and my jaw, being gentle with me every step of the way. As he positions himself over me, putting on a condom, he looks into my eyes and just waits. For reassurance. To ask me if I'm sure. Because even without words, I know he wants to make sure I'm ok.

“I love you, Andy. I’ve never been more sure about anything.” I kiss him as he slowly enters me and then I feel it. The sharp pain comes quickly followed by a dull ache. I wince and with our foreheads together Andy whispers to me “I’m sorry, my sweet girl. I love you so much.”

He stills and I feel tears stream from my eyes to my temples. Andy kisses them away, whispering “I love you Lainey. I love you always.”

Soon the pain gives way to pleasure and I get lost in the feel of our bodies together, his lips on me and his reverent words in my ear.

When I open my eyes, I see Andy’s profile next to me. He’s laying on his back and our legs are twisted together, my hand on his chest. He’s so peaceful, such a contrast to the turmoil I saw on his face just last night. 

Was that just last night? 

I feel the ache between my legs and am instantly reminded of all of the polarities in the past 12 hours. Andy’s panic and peace. His hard against my soft. My pain and his pleasure. Though it quickly turned into my pleasure as well and as soon as I don’t feel so raw, I really want to do it again. 

He turns his head towards me. Slowly his eyes open and focus, a smile spreading across his whole face. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Andy this happy before. This beautiful. This at ease.

“Is it morning?” He says this as he turns, putting his arm around me and pulling me closer. 

I nod, not wanting to break this spell, not wanting this look in his eyes to ever fade. 

“How are you feeling?” His hands are in my hair, on my arm, down my hips. His soft touches are everywhere. 

“Deliciously sore,” I answer with a sly smile. “I can’t wait until we can do this again.” 

Andy lets out a chuckle and kisses my nose. “You got it, sweet girl.”

“Do you think Mel would mind if I have a shower?” I ask, not actually wanting to leave his bed, but knowing we need to go pack up my tent.

“No, of course not. Go on in and I’ll bring you a fresh towel.” He starts to move his arms, giving me space to get up, but I throw myself back on top of him.

“Just a few more minutes of this, first. Ok?” I nuzzle into him and he immediately curls himself back around me, holding on even tighter than before. 

After minutes, or hours, or days, we pry ourselves off of one another and I shower. Andy must have come in while I was showering and left two folded towels sitting on the sink. When I come out of the bathroom and back into his room, he's changing the sheets. I feel my cheeks burn, and quietly ask, “Is everything ok?”

He angles his head towards me, but I can't see his eyes. “Oh. Yeah, it was just a little bit of blood.” I wan to crawl into a cave and never come out. He finishes putting the fitted sheet on and turns towards me with a small smile on his face. He puts both hands on my shoulders and asks, “How was your shower? Feel better?” Then he places a kiss on my nose.

I'm unable to move at his casual attitude about the fact that I left blood on his bed. He doesn't seem grossed out or upset in any way by it. Meanwhile, I feel mortified at the thought of him having to clean up after me.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper as I looked at my feet.

“Lainey,” he pulls my chin up, those amber eyes so soft and full of love. For me. “I don’t want either of us to feel sorry for a single thing about last night. Alright?” His eyes tell me everything I needed to know. He doesn't just mean us having sex or the blood on the bed. He also means him panicking and us leaving. I don't want him to be sorry about that either. 

I nod. Tears suddenly prick my eyes because I feel both completely safe with this person but also so uncertain. Us going to different schools. This new dynamic in our relationship. His panic attack, which I know in my bones wasn't his first. I didn’t know what to make of any of it and I suddenly felt claustrophobic. 

I step away from him and get dressed, trying to put aside all of these new thoughts and feelings.

Falling in love for the first time was a lot like being overly caffeinated. The fidgety, bubbly feeling in my chest felt a lot like anxiety, but I kind of didn’t want it to go away, and much like the jitters from too much coffee, the feeling would hit when I wasn’t expecting it. 

That feeling like my heart might explode right out of my chest was around pretty much that whole summer as Andy and I picnicked on the grass, drove to the next town over late at night to get gelato from the little Italian place that stayed open until midnight on Saturday nights, and made out in his truck. A lot.

I didn’t realize it then, but Andy was a bit of a unicorn. Our little love bubble was warm, safe, and comforting. I never wanted to leave it, but that’s really all it was — a bubble. I was consumed with loving Andy. So consumed I didn’t question why he never talked about school or going back in the fall. I didn’t think it was strange that his friends didn’t visit or that he didn’t go see any of them all summer. He never talked about his parents and why he was really here with his Aunt Mel.

A month before I was due to start at NYU, I asked Andy what we’d do once we weren’t living in the same town anymore. It was scary for me to think about, and he always changed the subject when I brought it up. 

Now he’s been distant for a couple of days, and I figure that must be why. It's all I've been able to think about, and I don't know how to feel about the fact that he doesn't want to talk to me about it. I thought I could let it go, but I drove myself to work tonight, and as I squeeze Andy's arm to say goodbye, I don't kiss him. I tell him I need time to think. I tell him I'll see him in the morning for our shift together. 

When I get home, I turn off my phone so I won't be distracted. I stay up all night coming up with a schedule for me to visit him at Michigan State and picking weekends he could come to New York, plus any holidays where we could be together here. By the time morning comes, I'm so excited to share the plan with him that I don't remember to turn my phone back on.

I pack up his favorite cookies and drive to his aunt Mel’s house, intent on surprising him. I just want to see him. I can't wait to hear his voice, kiss his face, tell him how much I love him and that I know we can figure anything out as long as we're together.

When I get to Mel’s house, she's just coming out the front door. She looks as pale as a ghost and rushes out to the car.

“Elaina, honey, what are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here.” She grabs my shoulders, trying to push me back towards the car. “Didn’t you get my messages? I’ve been calling you all morning.”

“Oh, I must have forgotten I turned my phone off last night. Is everything OK? Where’s Andy?” We're standing face-to-face now, her hands on my shoulders, mine on her elbows. Her eyes are lifeless, glossy and red, like she’s been crying.

“No, my love. Everything is not ok.” She looks me in the eye, her blue eyes shining with welled-up tears. “Andy’s gone, honey. He’s… he’s dead. He killed himself last night.” 

It might seem harsh that she just blurts it out like that, but here’s the thing I can recognize even in the shock of the moment, there’s no gentle way to deliver this news to someone. But I can't possibly be the someone being told this. No. This isn't my story. This isn't Andy's story either. It can't be.

She continues talking, telling me she's sorry. I want to yell at her, to ask her why she's lying to me. I want to wake up from this nightmare.

Mel is the one who found him. I register the words. In the garage. After that the words start to smudge together.

I shake my head. I ask her to repeat herself. The ground starts spinning. Everything blurs. All I can hear are someone’s blood-curdling screams. It's horrible. So loud that my head throbs from the sound. I realize they're my screams just as my knees hit the ground and my entire world falls apart.

I remember little after that. My dad is there, picking me up and driving me home. My mom makes tea, and I cry so much I think I’ll run out of tears soon. I feel hollow. The sadness is overwhelming and the guilt… God, the guilt feels like it’s clawing its way up my chest, leaving behind a weight I don’t think I’ll ever be able to lift.

After a few days, I stop crying. I think I did run out of tears. It doesn't seem like things can get any worse, but then I go to his funeral. I sit somewhere in the middle and listen as his family and friends speak about a person I don't seem to know. They talk about a loud, boisterous boy who never had a care in the world until something inside him seemed to just break as they called it. They talk about his anxiety and depression like they're talking about what kind of car he drove — like it was something everyone could see. Andy wasn't broken. You can see when something breaks. There are cracks and pieces. Andy was never broken, he was just bending and stretching himself until one day he snapped. Did I cause that snap? My stomach rolls at the thought.

The nausea starts at the reception. I've been asked who I am by at least a dozen people, but when Andy’s mother asks if I was one of his classmates while Andy’s ex-girlfriend, whose name I had never heard before that day, holds her hand. Something inside me ruptures. I excuse myself and run to the bathroom. There wasn't much in my stomach to begin with, and I puke until there is nothing left. Mel comes to find me and takes me home, trying to reassure me for the thousandth time that this wasn’t my fault. She reminds me that Andy loved me. That I was important to him, even if he never talked about me to anyone. That I was so important, he didn’t want to share me with anyone who knew how much he was hurting.

My parents insist I see a therapist. I insist on moving to New York sooner than planned because I can't stand being the girl with the dead boyfriend any longer. The way people look at me with their eyes full of pity makes me want to run away from this place, from this summer, from anything that reminds me of how hollow my heart is. In the end, we compromise and instead of staying at home, I stay with my dad at the apartment he keeps in Cambridge. As a faculty member at MIT, he's kept his place there and though it was normally rented out to students, he wanted to freshen it up and renovate it this year, so there are no tenants. 

I get a few weeks with my dad away from the drama of small-town Marblehead, Massachusetts and he gets to make sure I'm attending my twice-a-week appointments with my therapist, eating more than a single granola bar per day and sleeping long enough to function.

By the time I need to move into my dorm at NYU, I've convinced my parents that I can handle myself. I’ve met with my New York therapist and my academic advisor is well-versed in my situation. I'm due to move in with twin sisters who moved from England to attend NYU.

I fall in love with those two weirdos so dearly for all the ways they’re exactly the same and the many, many ways they’re complete opposites. They pick me up when I finally open up about Andy. They put me back together in a way I didn’t think would ever be possible. Life wouldn’t be the same without Maeve’s sweet laughter or without Charlie’s quiet reassurances.

I lost Andy, but thankfully I've gained two sisters to see me through a journey of self-discovery and opening myself back up to love again.