"Then don't." She shrugged.

 "How about—I mean, do you want to maybe come back to my place for a bit? We can just hang out, promise, we don't have to do anything. I just kind of don't−"

 "Okay," she cut in.

 I had the car on the road and heading to my house faster than a fat kid eats cake.

 I pulled into the driveway and we met in front of the car. She smiled up at me. "Thanks for dinner, by the way." She took both my hands in hers, then got on her toes and kissed me. Then she pulled back, looking unsure about what she just did.

 So I did the only thing I knew to reassure her that it was fine. It was more than fucking fine. I put one hand on her waist and the other behind her head and I kissed her.

 And I don't know how long we stood there; softly kissing, but I wanted more. Much more.

 Somehow, she ended up on the hood of my car with me between her legs. My hand had somehow made its way under her shirt and just under her bra. "Oh my god," she moaned into my mouth.

 I pulled back slightly. "I know I am, but my name's Logan."

 She shook her head, chuckling. “Come here, asshole," she said, bringing me back down to her.

 Then I heard the sound of a throat clearing.

 We immediately stopped, and both looked up.

 Dad.

 He stood at the front door, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.

 "Shit," I muttered under my breath. I stood to full height, straightened my clothes and tried to hide my boner.

 Amanda made a squealing sound and hid behind my body. "Oh my god," I heard her mumble. She fisted the back of my shirt with her hands and planted her face into my back.

 I put my hands in my front pockets and looked down.

 "Logan." Dad nodded once in greeting. "Don't mind me. I was just on my way out."

 I nodded back, looking up, but not making eye contact.

 "I take it you'll be in the pool house tonight?" he asked.

 "Yep."

 He got in his car and drove away. I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding and turned to face Amanda.

 Her face was bright red. "That was so fucking embarrassing." Her mouth on my chest muffled her words. I chuckled and held her head close, kissing her on the forehead.

 And for some reason, it felt okay to do this—to be this—with her.

 ***

 "So," I said, hands in pockets. We'd just entered the pool house. She walked around, taking everything in. I walked behind her, staring at her ass.

 "So," she mimicked, spinning to face me.

 I quickly darted my eyes away from her ass.

 "Busted."

 I shrugged. "I can't help that your ass deserves to be admired."

 She laughed quietly and shook her head. She took two steps forward, and put her arms around my neck. Then her mouth was on mine and we were kissing again. I didn't mind. Not one fucking bit. I loved the fact that she was the one to make the moves.

 I moved us to the sofa, never once breaking the kiss. I sat down and positioned us so she was straddling me. We started grinding on each other. Her hips moved, while our mouths and tongues played. Every now and then she'd moan and I'd get so fucking turned on, she must have known it, because under my jeans I was hard as a fucking rock.

 Then she pulled away. "Sorry," she said, biting her lip. "I'm not that girl, Logan."

 I eyed her curiously. "What do you mean? What girl?"

 "I mean, I'm not going just going to sleep with you—"

 I opened my mouth to interrupt but she talked over me. "I don't mean to be a tease. I'm sorry."

 "Don't say that about yourself. You're not a tease. At all. And just so you know; I don't think you could ever be that girl. Not to me." I felt it again—that nervous tension. My heart pounded against my chest. "Look, I really like you. Honestly. And I mean—I'd be stupid to not want to sleep with you. But—maybe after I take you out a few more times?"

 Her eyes widened. A slow smile crept to her lips. "Okay," is all she said.

 ***

 She shuffled off me and lay down on the sofa so her feet were over my legs. "I'm so exhausted." She covered her eyes with her arm. "I've worked a thousand hours this week."

 Before I realized what I was doing, I'd pulled her shoes off her feet, and started rubbing them. Her moans made me look up at her face. Our eyes locked. She licked her lips.

 My dick twitched.

 "Why do you work so much?" I tried to change my focus.

 "Need the money for college." She shrugged, as if it wasn't a big deal. "Come here," she whispered, scooting to the corner of the sofa so I could lie down next to her. I ended up on my back, with her half on top of me.

 Her face was so close I could feel her breath on my cheek. She kissed it quickly before pulling away.

 “Tell me something," she said.

 I chuckled. "What do you mean?"

 "Tell me something that means something—something important to you."

 I thought about it for a long time. One hand played with her hair, the other on her waist. My thumb rubbed her stomach under her top. "If I tell you something, you have to promise not to ask about it."

 She reared back slightly, and then looked me in the eyes. "Promise."

 "When I was younger, something happened to me, and for a while I didn't talk. Like, at all. To no one. I had a hard time sleeping and couldn't really grasp the idea of night and day, so my dad—he told me that instead of living life by time and dates, to live them by moments. And instead of trying to remember how old I was or what day it was, try to remember how I felt during those moments. So that's what I do when I experience things."

 She was watching me, waiting for me to go on, unsure if I was done. So I continued, "Okay, say I asked you about the first time you learnt to ride a bike. The first thing you would tell me is how old you were, right?"

 She nodded her head slowly, her finger moving the hair away from my forehead.

 "Well, if you asked me the same question, I'd say...I felt happy, or like I was flying, and I remember smiling huge, and laughing. For the first time in a long time, I felt free."

 Her eyes stayed focused on mine; burning with an intensity I hadn't seen before. Then her hand reached up to cup my jaw. "I think that maybe, you—Logan Matthews—are someone I'd really, really like to get to know."

 I leaned up and kissed her again. Only this time, it was slower. This kiss—it was different. I wasn't just kissing her because I want in her pants. I was kissing her because I wanted her.

 And that's what we did.

 For minutes that felt like seconds, we kissed. And I let myself have something I'd never wanted to feel before. I wanted her to want me—not just physically—all of me.

 When we finally pulled apart, she rested her forehead on mine. "Can you take your shirt off?"