“When I say I’m not ready, I don’t just mean tonight. I don’t know if I’ll be ready next month or next year. It’s not that I don’t want to, but I’m scared I’ll become her.”

His breath leaves him in a rush. “Never. You’ll never be her.” He pulls me close, and I move to straddle his lap.

“You seem so perfect. I don’t know what being with me is going to do to your life.”

“My life is hardly perfect,” he scoffs. He holds me close while he lowers himself back into the grass. He’s silent for a bit, my head on his chest, his hands toying with my hair. “I was young when my parents died. I have memories of them, but nothing big, you know? My memories are more like snapshots. My dad handing me a big present in Garfield birthday wrap. Mom sweeping me off the ground and kissing my bloody knee. Sitting in the back of the car and watching the two of them hold hands. I wish I had more but it’s just not there.”

I wrap my arms around him and squeeze because that’s all I can do. There’s nothing to say to salve the hurt in his voice. Nothing to do but listen.

“I was in kindergarten when they died in the accident, and I don’t remember much about that time. I was staying over at Grandma’s that night, and Mom and Dad were having ‘couple time.’ Grandma said it with disapproval in her eyes, so I thought ‘couple time’ meant something bad until I was older and heard other people use it.” He pulls in a breath not much different than the kind I take when I wake up from a nightmare. “They never came home.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. It physically hurts me to imagine little-boy Will waiting for his parents to get home, wishing he’d see them again and learning he wouldn’t.

“Grandma didn’t like to talk about it. She took me to the funeral, dressed me in a suit and tie, and told me, ‘We get one day to cry. After today, we move on. You become the best man you can and you do it for them.’”

“That’s terrible. Grief shouldn’t have a timeline. And you were just a kid.”

“She loves me. I don’t want you to think any differently. But her loving me meant that she didn’t want me hurting, and if she didn’t have to see me hurting, she could tell herself I wasn’t.”

“What was it like? Growing up without your parents?”

His hands, already in my hair, tighten before he speaks. “I had everything I needed, so I don’t want to make it out worse than it was.”

“You can tell me.”

“It sucked.” He forces a laugh. “I love my grandmother, but she wasn’t a mother to me. She didn’t know how to be, not when she was so filled with grief over losing her own son. She wanted so much for the son she’d lost, and I was expected to fill that void. The grades, the sports, the perfect behavior. I need to get out of here for college. She wants me to go to Sinclair, but I know what that means. She’ll want me to live at home. She’ll want to control how I spend my days.”

“You could go anywhere, do anything.”

He hooks a leg behind mine and rolls us until he’s on his elbows hovering over me and his lips are a breath from mine.

“What are you thinking?” I ask.

“That I can’t wait to tell everyone you’re my girl.”

Then he kisses me for a long time, slow and sweet. We look at the stars after, side by side, his fingers tangled in my hair. Then we see it. A shooting star, skating across the sky as if it were put there for us.

I can’t help but wonder if my time with William will be like that. A precious but temporary gift.

Chapter Six

William

Eleven Months Later

“Open it!” Cally says, her eyes bright. She’s grinning at me, and we both know very well what a fat envelope from a college means.

“I don’t want to.” I chuck it to the floor and nudge her backward until the bed hits the back of her thighs. She’s so damn beautiful when she smiles. Just the idea of not seeing that smile every day makes me want to scrap all my plans for college. Ten months ago, the idea of getting a fat envelope from Notre Dame would have sent me over the moon. When it came today, my first thought was of the long drive between here and there. “There’s one more application I’m waiting on.” I slide my hands into her hair.

She frowns. “From where? I thought you’d heard from everyone already.”

“Sinclair.”

She presses her hands against my chest and pushes me back. “No. William. No. Absolutely not.”

I hang my head. This is why I hadn’t told her. I knew how she’d feel about me sticking around for her. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“But you need to,” she protests. “You need to get away from your grandmother and have a chance to live your life without her constant meddling. You told me that’s what you wanted, and I think it’s what you need.”

I grab her hand and bring it to my lips. “That was before you.”

Her eyes fill with tears. “I can’t let you do this. I love you too much.”

“I love you too,” I whisper, then I dip my head to kiss her.

“Don’t change the subject,” she whispers against my lips.

“I wouldn’t dare.” Our mouths meet again, and I sweep my tongue across her lips until she opens for me and makes that little kitten mewl at the back of her throat. I nudge her again, and she lowers to the bed, her dark hair fanned against my blue sheets. “You’re so beautiful.”

She’s wearing cut-off jean shorts that show her long legs, and one of my old practice jerseys. Her back arches as she reaches for me, and the jersey slides higher, revealing a narrow strip of creamy skin right above the waistband of her jeans. The part of me that loves her and understands her hang-ups resists, but there’s a part of me that’s ready to push, a part that wants her too much not to ask for more.

I know my friends think we have sex. Hell, other than Cally and me, I don’t know any couples who aren’t sexually active. But we have more than they do. We have a connection that I’ve craved since my parents died.

When Cally’s around, I never feel alone.

***

Cally

Over the clothes and above the waist. That was my line in the sand at the beginning of our relationship. Lately, it’s a line I want to kick myself for drawing.

When we first started dating, I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s not that I’m a pessimist or something. It’s just that William is so much more than I ever would have imagined for myself. He’s not just the sexy football player everyone loves. He’s smart and kind and thoughtful. And when I told him I wouldn’t have sex with him, he took me at my word and has never pushed the physical side of our relationship. We make out, and when things start to get too heated, when I’m ready for him to ask for more, he slows us down and pulls me back.

Over the clothes and above the waist. My rules, followed to a T.

Stupid rules.

I complained to Lizzy and Hanna about my predicament, and Lizzy laughed at me. “So, strip. You show him some bare skin, and I’m sure he’ll get the idea.”

I was going to wait for our one-year dating anniversary. But lying here in his bed, no one else in the house, my body has other ideas. The way he’s looking at me right now gives me the courage I need. I sit up, and before I can talk myself out of it, I pull my shirt off over my head.

His breath draws in with a hiss and his gaze sweeps across bare stomach, my br**sts swelling above the cups of my bra. “You don’t have to do this if you’re not ready,” he says, but his eyes give him away. He needs this as much as I do. “Cally, I—”

I unclasp my bra, and he stops talking, his chest rising and falling as his eyes rake over me again and again.

“Jesus. You’re beautiful.” He wraps his hand around my side and pulls me close, lowering his mouth to mine.

His fingers are gentle. He sweeps them over my bare skin, cups a breast in his palm. I gasp at the brush of his callused hand. He’s touched me here before, and I always liked it, but this is different. There’s no comparison, and this simple contact makes me want more. Skin to skin, everywhere.

“So damn beautiful.” He drops his mouth to my neck. Pleasure jackknifes through me when he rolls my nipple between his fingers and scrapes his teeth over my collarbone. “Let me kiss these. Let me make you feel good.”

I’m almost tense, coiled tight and needy, waiting for his mouth on my breasts. I want to feel his tongue against the sensitive flesh of my nipple. He kisses the sensitive crook of my neck and teases me with his thumbs. What will it feel like to have his mouth there? What if I don’t like it?

“Relax, baby.” He lowers me to the bed and runs his hand across my abdomen. His fingers dip into the hollow of my navel then up between my breasts. He follows with his mouth, hot and wet against my stomach, his tongue skimming under the band of my jeans and sending wild flutters through my belly before he kisses his way back up.

By the time he brings his mouth to my breast, pleasure twists inside me, greedy and impatient and more intense than anything I’ve ever felt before.

His tongue circles my nipples, one then the other. He closes his mouth over the taut peak and sucks, his other hand pinching the opposite breast.

The spiral of desire pulses harder, more insistent, and I squeeze my thighs together tight as he teases and sucks. I cling to that sensation—the tight, twisting ache. I tug at his hair because I need more, and I’m so close to something but I’m not sure what it is. Suddenly, he sucks again, and that aches twists impossibly tight before shattering and rocking through me in a violent spasm of pleasure.

I cry out, and he sucks harder until the spasm recoils and releases again, and I’m arching into his touch, holding on to his hair and the back of his neck.

Finally, my body lightens and releases, and I drop my hands to my sides. When I open my eyes, William is looking down at me, his blue eyes hot, his face searching mine.

When the realization of what I just did clicks into place in my sluggish brain, my cheeks burn with embarrassment. I held his mouth to me like I was afraid he was going to stop. I—Oh my God. Who has an orgasm from a guy touching her above the waist? “I don’t know why that happened. I’m sorry.”

He smiles but it looks a little pained. “Are you seriously apologizing for the sexiest thing I’ve ever experienced in my life?”

“I… You thought that was sexy?”

His lips quirk. “Baby, I made you come just by kissing your breasts. Not only was it sexy, I feel like Superman right now.”

“Superman?”

“Maybe Houdini is a more appropriate comparison, but yeah.” There’s so much intensity in his eyes that I can practically feel the weight of his gaze as he runs it over me again. “You’ve pretty much made my life.”

I bite my lip. “It’s a little embarrassing from where I’m sitting.”

He draws me up against him and nuzzles against my neck. “God, there’s absolutely nothing for you to be embarrassed about. The only thing embarrassing here is the way I’m about to come in my jeans without you even laying a finger on me.”

“Really?”

He groans. “You have no idea how much I want you. It hurts like hell.”

That sobers me, and I pull away. “William, I’m sorry I—”

“Please don’t apologize. It’s a good kind of hurt.”

I guess I know what he means. I’ve been feeling the good kind of hurt for months. I’m just not sure how much longer I want to feel it. My gaze drops to his jeans before I realize what I’m doing and tear my eyes away. I looked long enough to see some very impressive tightness at his fly that wasn’t there earlier.

He pulls off his shirt and snuggles next to me, wrapping his arms under my br**sts and pulling me close. “Let me hold you like this,” he whispers in my ear.

I breathe in his scent and my eyes slowly drift closed. The sun slants in through the window and warms my skin, relaxes my muscles.

I’m nearly asleep when he says, “I love you, Cally.”

I’m getting used to hearing those words. He told me for the first time months ago, and I was in awe that someone as amazing as William could love me. I never doubted his words. They are like him—honest, pure, and easy. But when he first said them, I was struck by the vulnerability in his eyes. I used to think William had everything, but I was wrong. He didn’t have love. Not as much as he deserves. And maybe his grandmother’s love for him is unconditional, but he can’t see it when she puts so many conditions on her approval. My parents might suck at being parents, but I’ve never doubted their love. I would never have guessed that William needed my love more desperately than I needed his.

“I love you too,” I reply softly now.

“If I leave for school, will visit me? Will you wait for me?”

I twist, turning in his arms so I can see him. “Notre Dame isn’t that far. A few hours on the bus, and I’ll be there.”

Relief washes over his face and he slides his hands into my hair and pulls me close for a kiss. When he releases me, I settle into his chest again. “Thank you,” I say—to him, to the universe or whatever desperate stargazing wish brought us together.

Chapter Seven

Cally

He forgot.

I wrap my arms around myself and pace my bedroom. I can’t believe he forgot.

My phone rings, and I practically jump across my bed as I scramble to grab it.

I don’t bother to read the display. “Hello.”