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I love dressing up much more than Skylar and April do. They tease me about it, but the minute I was able to buy my own clothes and not rely on hand-me-downs or donations, I did.

I was fourteen when I started working, and with my first paycheck I bought candy, the kind we never had at the group home, and a pair of brand-new jeans.

Not worn, not used, not donated.

Something that belonged to me, and only me, for the first time.

I shared the candy with everyone, but I never let anyone borrow the jeans, and the rest is history.

I already did my hair and makeup, doing my best not to overthink it. I tamed my curls and did some sparkly eyeshadow, similar to the kind I wore on my first date with Ben.

Actually, I haven’t been this anxious since my first date with Ben, but that turned out better than expected.

I had a good feeling back then and I have a good feeling now about Connor, despite the nerves.

I take a deep breath, toy with my hair one more time, and sigh.

“I can do this,” I repeat to my reflection like a weirdo. “I can do this.”

Truthfully, this is the perfect time to have this date. My Heat isn’t due for a while, and I’m on extra-strength suppressants just for the occasion.

I can be myself and not worry about drooling over Connor’s scent or staining my underwear with slick.

(Even though Ben would be thrilled if I came home with ruined panties.)

I head into the front room with my decaf iced coffee in hand, sipping it anxiously as I collapse in a chair.

It’s Connor and his boyfriend’s brand, so I think it’s fitting for the occasion.

My stomach does a flip at the memory of meeting Ace. He was covered in tattoos and almost as tall as Connor, with a sinful smirk that made my core clench.

He smelled like pepper and lavender, the opposite of the richness of Connor’s coffee, chocolate, and bourbon aroma, and it was the perfect counterpart.

Goosebumps pebble on my skin as I think of him and Connor together and how I would handle both of them at once.

Ben would love to watch me take them both. I just know it.

I shiver at the thought.

What would our first time be like?

There’s a knock at the front door, and I jump up, my iced coffee sloshing in its tumbler.

Connor’s here.

When I open the door, my pink tumbler still in my hand, my breath catches as I meet his eyes.

He towers above me, but his green eyes are soft as he gazes down at me.

“Hello, Devyn,” he murmurs. “You look lovely.”

There’s a bouquet of flowers in his hand, an assortment of red and cream roses. They sit in a gorgeous crystal vase, and each one is in bloom. They’re breathtaking and almost look too perfect to be real.

“I hope you like these,” he adds, handing them to me. “They’re…a little different. They’re made from wood. You don’t have to water them, and they’ll last forever,” he adds with a nervous chuckle.

I hold the bouquet in my hand, marveling at the detail. “Wood?” I repeat.

“It comes from a special plant root,” he adds. “I know that sounds a little weird, but?—”