Maybe, I thought, my skin beginning to hum, I would have put my hand on his thigh. And maybe he would have leaned a little closer. Maybe we would have kissed, and it would have been our first time.

I couldn’t deny that I’d been thinking about it tonight. Because even though being with him had that familiar cozy feeling, that whole big-brother-little-sister vibe we used to have was gone. Instead, there was something else between us tonight. Some kind of chemistry that had only simmered beneath the surface before. And I liked it.

Before I knew what I was doing, I got out of bed and grabbed his sweatshirt, bringing it back to bed with me. I slid beneath the covers again and brought it to my face, hoping it still smelled like him.

It did. I closed my eyes and breathed him in.

My right hand moved down my stomach, inching inside my underwear. I felt a little ashamed at first, like getting myself off to the idea of Noah was something I shouldn’t be doing in my parents’ house, but as soon as I began to touch myself, I got over it.

Fuck it, this was my room, my bed, my body. If I wanted to get off with Noah in my head, it was my business. Maybe it would never happen in real life, but my mind was my personal playground.

I’d never fantasized about Noah before. Not that I did this very often, but when I did, my go-to dudes were nameless, faceless people I wouldn’t have to worry about facing the next day at Starbucks or the gym or the office. Cowboys. Firemen. Knights in shining armor.

Tonight, however, no anonymous hero would do. Tonight, the body above me, the hands on my skin, the tongue between my legs, the cock sliding inside me, belonged to Noah.

And he was fucking fantastic. He knew exactly what to do, how to touch me, what to whisper in the dark. He moved like he owned me. I’ve always wanted you, he said. And tonight, I can’t hold back.

My orgasm tore through me, its strength taking me by surprise. It was powerful enough that I gasped into his sweatshirt, which I still had pressed to my face. Usually it took a lot longer than just a few minutes for me to come, especially without the help of a vibrator—which I’d gotten rid of after moving in with Brooks, because he said it made him “uncomfortable.”

I decided that would be my first purchase when I got back to DC.

If only I could take this hoodie with me too.

My alarm went off at 6:15 the following morning, and I bolted upright in bed. I hit snooze, but I didn’t need any more sleep. I felt wide awake. Excited. Happy.

I dressed quickly in leggings, a sports bra, a loose tank, and pulled on Noah’s sweatshirt as well. I knew I’d have to give it back, but damn I wished I could keep it. Heat rushed into my cheeks as I made my way downstairs. I still couldn’t believe what I’d done last night—or how good it had been. Would it be terrible if I did it again tonight?

My parents were already in the kitchen, sipping coffee and reading the news—my mom on her laptop and my dad holding up a newspaper. “Morning,” I chirped as I went over to the Keurig and made myself a to-go cup.

“Morning,” my dad said, turning a page.

“Morning, dear. You’re up early,” my mother observed.

“I’m going for a run with Noah. We’re meeting at seven. Dad, okay if I borrow your car again? I should be back by nine.”

“Sure, honey.”

“Thanks.”

My mother smiled at me. “Did you two have a nice time last night?”

“Yes. We had dinner at Hop Lot. It was fun.”

“Feel free to invite him to the wedding,” she said. “There’s an extra chair at your table since . . .”

Since your boyfriend dumped you. My good mood threatened to deflate at the reminder, but I refused to dwell on it. “He probably has to work.”

“But you could ask,” my mother said.

“I’ll think about it.” I took my cup from the machine and snapped a lid on it. Then I kissed both my parents on the cheek and headed out. “See you later.”

On the drive to the park, I thought about asking Noah to the wedding as my sort-of date. I wasn’t standing up for Frannie (Chloe was her maid of honor, and Mack’s daughters were her junior bridesmaids and flower girl), so it’s not like he’d be left alone constantly while I did wedding party things.

But would it be weird? Would it make him uncomfortable? The last thing I wanted to do was to introduce awkwardness into our friendship. The whole reason our bond had never been tested, even across time and distance, was because we’d never crossed the line. Would going on a “date” wreck what we had? Would it even be considered a “date” if he just sat with me at my table? It’s not like I’d make him dance with me or anything. It would be more like dinner with a group of friends. We could handle that, right?

In fact, it would be fun. He’d keep me from feeling sorry for myself. He’d make me laugh—we made each other laugh. I bet he didn’t get out much socially, either, since apparently he didn’t date and his closest friend was married to his sister and had a houseful of kids.

By the time I pulled into the parking lot and spotted Noah’s car, I’d made up my mind. I’d ask him.

“How’s the pace? You doing okay?” Noah asked as we jogged along the dirt trail, Renzo joyfully leading the way.

“I’m fine,” I said, although I was huffing and puffing a bit. His legs were longer than mine, and it was clear his stamina was better. In fact, I had to use all my energy and lung power to keep up, so conversing wasn’t really an option during the run. Every now and then, he’d check in with me and make sure I was okay, or issue a command to Renzo (usually “slow down, buddy”) but mostly we ran beside each other in peaceful silence, the sun warm on our faces.

In fact, it had been warm enough that I’d already given Noah his sweatshirt back—after sneaking one more big sniff of it. He’d offered to let me keep it, but I couldn’t really think of a good reason. It was too warm to wear it while we ran (plus that would make it smell like me), and I couldn’t very well tell him I wanted to keep it because inhaling his scent while getting myself off last night had given me a fantastic orgasm, so I sadly handed it over, sighing inwardly as he tossed it onto the passenger seat of his SUV.

After we finished the run, I asked him if he’d like to have breakfast with me in town. Everything between us felt perfectly normal this morning—I hadn’t sensed any of the weird tension that had existed between us when we’d said goodbye last night. In fact, I almost wondered if I’d imagined it.

“My treat,” I said, grabbing my right foot to stretch my quad. “You got dinner last night.”

“I could do that.” He thought while he stretched his calves. “But I need to drop Renzo off. And I should probably grab a shower first.”

“No problem,” I said, switching legs. “I guess I could go home and do that too. Why don’t I meet you back at your house?”

“I can pick you up.”

“Are you sure? It’s out of your way.”

Noah rolled his eyes. “Sawyer, it’s like fifteen minutes from here. Not a big deal.”

I laughed. “Okay. Text me when you’re on your way.”

At home, I quickly showered, aimed the blow dryer at my hair for ten minutes before putting it in a ponytail, and threw on jeans and a fitted red short-sleeved shirt. The top was slightly cropped, but it had a mock neck and my jeans were high-rise, and I looked at myself from all angles in the mirror to make sure I didn’t look like a belly-baring teenager. Satisfied it didn’t look too come-hither, I sat down and pulled on my sneakers.