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No, you look beautiful,I want to say, but I manage not to. One should try not to appear too eager, even if one is this close to pouncing on another.

“I wish I could pick you up at the house instead of making you walk all the way down here,” he says. He always says this, and it always makes me melt a little more, knowing that he wants to do things properly, knowing that I’m being treated like something precious.

“I know, babe. But you know my mom.” My mouth tightens at the thought of Mama seeing Bradley on her doorstep. There’s one surefire way of scaring off a guy. Another thought brightens my mood. “My mom’s going to be working late today.”

“Oh?” Bradley drives out onto the main road carefully, looking left-right-left, his hands on the ten-two position. He’s like that: everything by the book. If he weren’t as chiseled as a Greek god, he probably would’ve had the shit beaten out of him every day. As it is, he’s the star of the basketball team, so he’s got everyone eating out of his huge, rugged hands. Even his hands are hot. I can’t stop stealing glances at them as he drives, admiring the way they make the steering wheel look tiny.

Okay, so I’m horny. And Bradley is a good-looking guy, I’ve established that, right? And we’ve been going out over a month,and like I told Michie, I’m ready. He and I have talked about this—hey, I’m a responsible girl and he’s a decent guy—and we’ve decided we should definitely totally do it before spring semester ends and junior year is over, which is in—ack!—three days. Just three days before summer vacation begins and Bradley’s whisked away to the East Coast for two weeks to visit his dad. His dad. I wish I could spend two weeks with my dad. Too bad I know nothing about him, aside from that he’s white. Anyway, back to the more urgent topic. Bradley’s had sex before, so I feel slightly self-conscious about it being my first time. But I just got to take the plunge, and Bradley’s probably the best guy to have my first time with.

“Yeah,” I say. “Her accounting firm landed a huge deal with some architecture firm—New Country or whatever. She actually told me last night that I’ll have to get used to not having her around as much like it’s a bad thing.” I snort at that.

“Oh, hey, is the deal with New Land Architecture?” Bradley says, his voice all bouncy and excited.

I frown. This is not how I foresaw this conversation going. “Yeah, I think so. Anyway—”

“Oh man, that’s so exciting! They’re the ones who built that new opera house in the city! The one I showed you on Instagram?”

Aside from being a beautiful jock, Bradley also happens to be an architecture buff, which is kind of how we got together. We had one of those classic rom-com meet-cutes where we reached for the same book at the library. I still can’t bring myself to tell him that I was, in fact, reaching for a book titledModern Artand notModern Architecture.Not when he so gallantly told me I could have it first, but only if I told him how I liked it. I’d slogged throughModern Architecturejust so we could discuss it, and about thirty minutes in, we’d started making out.

“Yeah, cool, cool. So anyway, the house is going to be all empty, no one but you and me…” I trail off suggestively.

“Yeah?” He checks the rearview mirror and glances at me with a cheery smile.

I resist the urge to sigh. The guy’s so hot it’s practically blinding, but sometimes, Bradley can be a bit slow. Then I hate myself for being so mean, even if it’s just in my own head. That’s totally something Mama would do—measure everyone against some crazy lofty standards and then judge them when they inevitably fail to meet them. Plus, I guess it’s kind of unfair of me to consider him dumb when he’s actually brilliant when it comes to all things architecture.

“Um, I was thinking we could—you know.” I wiggle my eyebrows and then belatedly wonder if that came off creepy. Doesn’t matter, he’s got his eyes on the road. If only Mama knew what a safe driver Bradley is.

“Ooh, you wanna have a LAN party? We could invite Michie and Joel.”

For fuck’s sake. How can I make it any clearer that I’m not talking about gaming? “No, Bradley, I do not want to have a Fortnite party,” I snap. “I want to have sex!”

The car swerves. Honks blare, and I grip the door handle as the car swings to the side of the road and screeches to a halt.

Bradley turns to face me, his eyes wide. “Holy shit. Seriously?”

My insides twist, and suddenly, my cheeks are on fire. “Um, unless you don’t want to, which is fine—” I’d just kill myself, but it’s totally cool.

“No, of course I want to! I just— Whoa.” Bradley’s mouth forms a perfect circle. “Okay, yeah. Cool!” He grins, leaning over to kiss me on the cheek. He checks the road and eases back into traffic.

Okay, cool. I have to stop myself from grinning like a loon. In just a few hours’ time, I, Sharlot Citra, will cease being a kid and become a *~~woman~~*. Or something less gross.

That afternoon, I stand in front of my mirror and practice posing for when I open the door to greet Bradley. Sexily rumpled hair, check. Minty-fresh breath, check. Spinach-less teeth, check. I take a deep breath and am somewhat surprised to find that it’s slightly shaky. But I’m going to do this, damn it. And Bradley is the perfect guy to do it with. But my stomach is churning and there are sweat droplets forming on my nose and above my upper lip, which is definitely not sexy. Please stop sweating, dear body. Just to be safe, I grab my tube of deodorant and roll it aggressively over my pits, then under my boobs.

There’s a knock at the front door, which makes me jump. I put down the deodorant with some reluctance. Holding it had been fortifying somehow, like holding a magical sword. Which is a totally normal way to feel about a tube of deodorant.

This is it. I go down the stairs with mounting trepidation and open the front door.

Bradley looks amazing, as always, even with his hair still wet from the school showers. Ew, the school shower. I push the image of the mold-infested showers out of my mind.

“Hey, you.” He grins that amazingly boyish grin at me and lowers his head to kiss me.

Normally, his kisses are all it takes to make me forget everything, but this time, I find myself stiffening and wanting to pull away. No, self! Why? I squeeze my eyes shut and kiss him back fiercely.

“Okay, whoa,” Bradley murmurs, stepping back slightly. He gives me a confused smile. “You okay?”

“Yeah, of course. Come on, let’s do it.” I pull him up the stairs and into my bedroom. I kick the door shut and practically pounce on him. Our hands are suddenly everywhere on each other, his fingers trailing fire down my waist. I yank off my top and Bradley actually stops breathing for a second. Thank you, Victoria’s Secret. This purple lacy bra cost me an entire month’s allowance, and it’s all worth it for that wide-eyed look on Bradley’s face.

When he finally exhales, it’s in the reverent sort of way that a curator might do when presented with priceless art. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and then kisses me again, gently this time. “God, you’re perfect.”