Samson slowly lifts his eyes. There’s no give in his expression that would hint at what he’s thinking.

But then he grabs my face and kisses me so sudden and so hard, I fall against the bathroom door. I think this means he likes it. He lowers his hands to my thighs and slides me up the door until I’m wrapped around him, like he’s trying to tie us in a permanent knot.

He’s kissing me with a freshly dug-up feeling he’s never kissed me with before. I’m not sure any other response to seeing his tattoo would have been an appropriate one now that I’ve been met with this response.

He moves against me in a way that makes me moan, but as soon as I do, he pulls his mouth from mine like that moan was a big red stop sign. He drops his forehead to mine and his words are full of emotion when he says, “I’d take you right here if you didn’t deserve better.”

I’d let him.

TWENTY-TWO

“No.” My father’s response is absolute.

“Please?”

“No.”

“I’m nineteen.”

“She’s on the pill,” Alana says.

I set my fork down and press a hand to my forehead. I don’t know why I even asked him if I could stay the night with Samson. I should have just snuck out and come home before he woke up. But I’m trying not to break any of his rules.

Sara finished eating before this discussion started, but she looks like she’s enjoying it. She’s seated at the table with her knee pulled up to her chest, watching this conversation like we’re playing it out on a television. All she needs is a bag of popcorn.

“Does your mother let you spend the night with guys?” my father asks.

I laugh half-heartedly at that. “My mother didn’t care where I spent the night. I want you to care. I would just also appreciate it if you trusted me.”

My father runs a hand down his face like he doesn’t know what to do. He looks to Alana for answers. “Would you allow Sara to spend the night with Marcos?”

“Sara and Marcos spend the night together all the time,” Alana says.

I glance at Sara just as she perks up in her chair. “We do not.”

Alana rolls her head. “I’m not ignorant, Sara.”

There’s a look of complete surprise on Sara’s face. “Oh. I thought you were.”

I laugh at that, but no one else does.

With that news, my father somehow seems even more torn.

“Listen, Dad,” I say as gently as possible. “I wasn’t really asking you for permission. I was more or less telling you I’m staying at Samson’s house tonight as a courtesy because this is your house and I’m trying to be respectful. But it would make this a lot easier if you would just say okay.”

My father groans, falling back into his chair. “I’m so glad I punched that damn kid when I had the chance,” he mutters. Then he waves toward the front door. “Fine. Whatever. Just…don’t make a habit of this. And be home before I wake up so I can pretend tonight never happened.”

“Thank you,” I say, pushing back from the table. Sara immediately follows me out of the kitchen and up the stairs. When we get to my room, she falls onto the bed.

“I can’t believe my mother knows Marcos sleeps over sometimes. I thought we were really sneaky about it.”

“You might be sneaky, but you certainly aren’t quiet.”

She laughs. “I can’t let Marcos find out she knows. He likes the forbidden aspect of it all.”

I text Samson to let him know I’m definitely staying over, and then I open my closet door and stare into it. “What the hell do I wear?”

“I don’t think it matters. The goal is to end up in nothing by the end of the night, right?”

I can feel my skin begin to tingle with nervousness. I’ve had sex plenty of times, but never in a bed. Never fully naked. And definitely never with someone I care about.

Samson texts me back a fireworks emoji. I roll my eyes and slip my phone back into my pocket.

“Have you guys not had sex yet?” Sara asks.

I decide not to change clothes. I just throw a fresh T-shirt and a clean pair of underwear into my backpack. “Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“There hasn’t been a lot of opportunity for that,” I say. “We’re always with you and Marcos. And when we’re alone, we just…we’ve done other things. Just not that.”

“Marcos and I have sex all the time. We even had sex while y’all were getting tattoos last week.”

I look at her and wince. “In the back seat?”

“Yep. Twice.”

Gross. Samson and I had to ride home in that back seat.

“Are you going to give me all the details tomorrow? Or am I just getting another lame high five?”

Sara’s been patient with me considering how little I share about certain aspects of my life, and how blunt I am in other areas. “I’ll tell you everything,” I say, right before walking out of my bedroom. “Promise.”

“I want every detail! Take notes if you have to!”

Luckily, my father and Alana are no longer in the kitchen, so I slip out of the house without having to continue to discuss the fact that I’m having sex with my neighbor tonight. I am definitely not used to having a family who discusses every single thing out in the open like they do.

Samson is waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

“Desperate much?” I tease.

He kisses me and takes my backpack. “Eager.”

We begin walking toward Samson’s house. P.J. is following us, but Samson doesn’t have a dog bed for him. “P.J., go home.” I point to the stairs. P.J. pauses for a moment. I repeat myself, and then he finally turns and goes back up our stairs.

Samson slips his hand through mine and holds it until we’re in his house. He locks the front door behind him, sets the code on the alarm and then kicks off his shoes.

I look around, wondering where this is going to happen. How it’s going to happen. It feels a little weird knowing what’s coming. I prefer spontaneity over plans when it comes to sex. Dakota treated me like I was on a strict, rotating schedule.

“You thirsty?” Samson asks.

I shake my head. “I’m fine.”

He tosses my backpack against the wall next to his backpack. He grabs my hand and twists my wrist so that he can see my tattoo. It’s been a week since we got them and both of ours healed well. It kind of makes me want another one, but I feel like I need to wait until I have a reason. Getting one with Samson felt important. I’ll wait for another important life moment before getting a second one.

“It turned out really good,” he says, running his finger over it.

“You never actually said if you liked yours.”

“I told you I loved it the night I got it. I just didn’t say it with words.” He slides his fingers through mine and leads me up a set of stairs. When he opens the door to his room, he lets me walk in first.

The balcony doors are open and there’s a breeze blowing the sheer curtains into the room. The bed is perfectly made, and I still can’t get over how clean he keeps everything. Samson flips on a lamp by the bed.

“It’s pretty,” I say, walking toward the balcony. I step outside and glance over at my bedroom. I accidentally left the light on, so I have a clear view of my bed. “You can see straight into my room.”