Seven years earlier…
“Makenna, Reid Landryhas been watching you since the bell rang,” my best friend, Brynn, whispers from her seat behind mine. I swat over my shoulder like someone shooing invisible flies to shush her. The entire fourth period Chemistry class turns to see what all the fuss is about. My cheeks flush immediately when my eyes meet Reid’s. His eyes scream mischief as he cocks a brow.
Reid Landry is the guy all the girls want, but none of them need. His list of accomplishments includes: breaking the eleventh-grade keg stand record, being brave enough to date the principal’s daughter, then being dumb enough to dump her the night before homecoming, and according to locker room legends, being the first guy to have a senior on her knees for a sophomore in the boys’ bathroom. I am an honor roll student aiming for med school, and Reid Landry is number one on my “things not to do” list. Besides, I’m happily dating Carter Boyd, who happens to be his polar opposite.
I manage to make it through the rest of Chemistry, then Pre-Cal, unscathed. Brynn was right, though. Reid was staring at me like I had the answers to life’s most complicated questions tattooed on my body. Don’t get me wrong, I’m definitely flattered. At 5’4”, 115 pounds, with shoulder length blonde hair and blue eyes, I consider myself an average girl—nothing extraordinary. And definitely nothing for the hottest guy in eleventh grade to be staring at. As a matter of fact, last year, before cheerleading tryouts, one of the varsity squad guys told me I have fat ankles. He said as a cheerleader you have a greater responsibility of watching what you eat and how your body looks. The sting of his words penetrated so deeply, I decided to skip the tryout altogether. Now I’m on the dance team. They don’t care about my ankles.
Right now, we’re in the gym rehearsing our steps for the next pep rally while the guys finish up basketball practice. Any other day, Carter would be my main distraction, but today I can’t seem to keep my eyes off Reid. Thanks, Brynn.
After practice, Carter drives me home—perks of dating a senior when you don’t have a car of your own.
It’s after six when we pull in my driveway, and Carter surprises me by cutting the engine on his bright red Ford F-150 instead of rushing home to shower and get his homework done. I watch carefully as he walks around the front of the truck to open my door. He holds my hand as we walk up the driveway, and I try to focus on the newly blooming petunias in our flower beds rather than my sweaty palms. I let go to grab my keys and unlock the front door, not at all surprised to find my mom isn’t home, but she left the television on. Who Wants to be a Millionaire is playing because she has an unhealthy addiction to the Game Show Network. I think it’s because she likes dreaming of winning all the money and finding a better life.
Carter takes a seat on the couch, and I have the sudden urge to phone a friend. He never comes inside. Now he’s here, and we’re alone. My nerves are all over the place—not one of the perks of being a virgin dating a senior guy.
I pour us each a glass of sweet tea, then join him on the sofa. “Is everything okay?” My heart feels like it’s about to thump right out of my throat.
He takes one drink of the tea, then sets his glass on the coffee table. “People are starting to talk about you, Maks.” He stops there and rakes his eyes over my body. Then he takes my glass and places it beside his. “Guys are starting to talk about you.”
Is he talking about Reid? He can’t be talking about Reid. Reid Landry wouldn’t talk about me. It was a fluke that he even looked at me today.
An uncomfortable shiver runs up my spine as he leans in and kisses me. There’s nothing especially different about the kiss itself, but his body language is practically screaming “Let’s get naked.” He continues to press forward until I’m on my back. The cushion on the arm of the sofa gives way to the uncomfortable wood structure beneath. As if the situation weren’t awkward enough, the first erection I’ve ever felt in my life is currently creating friction between my thighs as he rocks back and forth against me.
What am I supposed to do with that?
Do I move with him?
I think I’m going to puke.
I pull my mouth away from his. “Carter, stop.”
He continues the rocking but moves his mouth to my neck. He’s going to give me a hickey.
Please don’t give me a hickey.
Before my brain has a chance to transform the thought into words, I feel all the little blood vessels in my neck explode as an unexpected burst of pain makes me flinch.
Brynn is going to kill me. I’d say my mother would too, but she’s never home long enough to notice.
“I want you, Makenna.” His voice is breathy and rough against my skin.
I like Carter. I really do. But the reality is, I’m a virgin lying on my mother’s sofa with a guy I’ve only been dating two months. He’s a year older than me. In less than a month, he’ll be on his way to LSU with a full basketball scholarship. I’m sure there will be plenty of girls willing to drop their panties for him. I’m just not one of them.
“My mom will be home any minute now,” I say, not knowing whether or not it’s the truth.
Ever since I was seven-years old, it’s been hit or miss with her. When she’s not working odd jobs to pay the bills because my dad only paid enough child support to keep him out of jail, she’s scouting the bars looking for his replacement. My grandma played the role of mother, father, and grandparent right up until the day she died. If it weren’t for her, I might as well have been raised an orphan.
His hands move underneath my shirt and ease their way up my sides. “We’ll make it a quickie.”
A quickie.
He’s obviously not as new at this as I am.
“Carter, I can’t.”
“Other guys are starting to notice you, Makenna. I need to know you want me. Only me.”
The sound of his phone chiming the school fight song pulls his attention from making another attempt at my ultimate de-flowering.
“Fuck,” he groans, running his hands through his hair. “That was my mom. I have to pick my sister up from tumbling.”
I silently thank the alignment of the stars for the interruption as I walk him to the door.