I looked up at him, squinting one eye from the beam of sunlight escaping through the tree leaves above. “I have a blankie, too. Murfin is in my dorm room—under my pillow.”
His shoulders relaxed, and he sat down, placing the basket in front of him. “Blake.”
“Blake?”
“I guess I tried to say ‘blank,’ and it turned into Blake along the way.”
I smiled. “I like that you didn’t lie.”
He shrugged, still embarrassed. “I’m not very good at it anyway.”
I leaned in, nudging his shoulder with mine. “I like that, too.”
Shepley beamed and then opened the basket, pulling out a covered plate of cheese and crackers and then a bottle of zinfandel and two plastic champagne flutes.
I stifled a laugh, and Shepley chuckled.
“What?” he asked.
“It’s just … this is the cutest date I’ve ever been on.”
He poured the zin. “Is that a good thing?”
I spread Brie on a cracker and took a bite, nodding, and then a little sip of wine to wash it down. “You definitely get an A for effort.”
“Good. I don’t want it to be so cute that I’ll be friend-zoned,” he said, almost to himself.
I licked the cracker and wine from my lips, looking at his. The air between us changed. It was heavier … electric. I leaned toward him, and he made a failed attempt to hide the surprise and excitement in his eyes.
“Can I kiss you?” I asked.
His eyebrows shot up. “You wanna … you wanna kiss me?” He looked around. “Right now?”
“Why not?”
Shepley blinked. “I’ve just, um … never had a girl …”
“Am I making you uncomfortable?”
He quickly shook his head. “Definitely not what I’m feeling right now.”
He cupped my cheek and pulled me in without a second hesitation. I immediately opened my mouth, tasting the wetness of the inside of his lips. His tongue was soft and warm and tasted like sweet mint.
I hummed, and he pulled away.
“Let’s, um … I made sandwiches. Do you like ham or turkey?”
I touched my lips, smiling, and then forced a straight face. Shepley looked positively flustered in the best possible way. He handed me a wax paper–wrapped square, and I carefully pinched a corner, pulling until I saw white bread.
“Thank God,” I said. “White bread is the best!”
“I know, right? I can’t stand whole wheat.”
“Bleach and calories be damned!”
I peeled open the paper and tasted the carefully crafted turkey and Swiss with what smelled like chipotle ranch and lettuce and tomato. I looked up at Shepley, horrified. “Oh God.”
He stopped chewing and swallowed. “What?”
“Tomatoes?”
His eyes filled with horror. “Fuck. Are you allergic?” He frantically looked around. “Do you have an EpiPen? Should I take you to the hospital?”
I fell backward, gasping and clutching at my throat.
Shepley hovered over me, not sure where to touch me or how to help. “Fuck. Fuck! What do I do?”
I grabbed his shirt and pulled him down to me, concentrating on speaking. Finally, the words came. “Mouth-to-mouth,” I whispered.
Shepley tensed, and then all his muscles relaxed. “You’re messing with me?”
He sat up as I burst into laughter.
“Jesus, Mare, I was freaking out!”
My giggling faded, and I smiled at him. “My best friend calls me Mare.”
He sighed. “I am so going to get friend-zoned.”
I raised my hand above my head, twirling strands of my long hair, feeling the cool grass beneath my arm. “Better head that off with aggressive affection.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure I can handle you.”
“You won’t know unless you try.”
Shepley anchored himself with his arms on each side of me, and then he leaned down, touching his lips to mine. I reached down, bunching my skirt, and smiled as the hem rose above my knees. His lips worked against mine as he positioned himself between my legs in one smooth motion.
His hands felt so good on my skin, and my hips rolled and shifted in reaction. He hooked his hand behind my knee, pulling it to his hip.
“Holy shit,” he said against my lips.
I pulled him closer. The hardness behind his zipper pressed against me, and I hummed, feeling the denim on my fingertips as I unbuttoned his jeans.
When I reached inside, Shepley froze. “I didn’t bring a … I wasn’t expecting this. At all.”
With my free hand, I fished a small packet from the side of my strapless bra. “Wishing for one of these?”
Shepley looked down at the foil square in my hand, and his expression changed. He sat back on his knees, watching me, as I pushed myself up with my elbows.
“Let me guess,” I said, tasting the acidity in my words. “We just met. I’m sexually forward, and I brought a condom, so that must mean I’m a whore, making you wholly uninterested.”
He frowned.
“Say it. Say what you’re thinking,” I said, daring him. “Give it to me in real time. I can take it.”
“This girl is articulate and fun and quite possibly the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen in real life. How in God’s name did I manage to be in this moment with her?” He leaned forward, half-confused, half in awe. “And I’m not sure if this is a test.” He looked down at my lips. “Because, trust me, if it is, I want to pass.”
I smiled and brought him in for another kiss. He tilted his head, eagerly leaning in.
I held him at bay, just inches from my mouth. “I might be fast, but I like to be kissed slow.”
“I can do that.”
Shepley’s lips were full and soft. He had an air of nervousness and inexperience, but the way he kissed me told a different story. He pecked my mouth once, lingering for a bit, before pulling away, and then he kissed me again.
“Is it true?” he whispered. “That fast girls don’t usually stick around for long?”
“That’s the thing about being fast. You don’t know what you’ll do until you do it.”
He exhaled. “Just grant me a favor,” he said between kisses. “When you’re ready to walk away, try to let me down easy.”
“You first,” I whispered.
He laid me back onto the blanket, finishing what I’d started.
Shepley
America looked like an angel, pressing the phone to her ear, tears glistening down her face. Even if they weren’t happy tears, she was still nothing less than beautiful.
She tapped the screen and held her cell in the space between her crisscrossed legs. The thick hot-pink case lay on the bed of her elegant fingers and long olive-green skirt, reminding me of our first date—which happened to be the first day we’d met … along with a few other firsts. I’d loved her then, but I loved her even more now, seven months and one breakup later, even with smudged mascara and bloodshot eyes.
“They’re married.” America breathed out a laugh and wiped her nose.
“I heard. I guess the Honda is at the airport then? I can drop you off and follow you back to the apartment. When does their flight get in?”