It’s not super flattering to admit, but that was the main reason I decided to do it, I think. My ex-boyfriend was thirty feet away with the girl he’d cheated on me with and they were all over each other. I’d loved Aaron once, still carried a torch, so to not have to grapple with that ugly truth, I’d entertain myself with a hot stranger. When Jack kissed me again, and walked me toward the driveway, I knew what I was in for: a hookup that’d put Aaron away awhile. A momentary distraction from a lot of old hurts.

I understood what it was—and what it wasn’t—from the get-go, and I was okay with it.

Jack led me to The Truck—emphasized because it’s the only truck I ever think of anymore when I hear the word—which was parked at the last spot on the right side, granting him unblocked access to the road. It was black and new and tall, and when he opened the passenger’s side to invite me in, I had to take his hand and grab the door to haul myself into the cabin.

It had a new car smell. The dash was pristine, the seats were shiny leather. I was running my fingers over the radio plate when Jack circled around to the driver’s side and climbed in. He turned the radio on and then lowered the volume, smiling at me from his side of the bench. His hand captured mine again, and I slid my butt over to sit next to him, my thick thigh up against his more slender one.

“Having a good time?” he asked.

“I am.” I perched my chin on his shoulder with big eyes, my smile practically stitched to my face. I probably smelled like strawberries and potato chips, but he didn’t seem to mind, not as he nudged my nose with his own. The kiss was soft and sweet at first, lips skimming and gliding and nestling together. His hand crept up to my cheek, then back into my hair, cupping my skull. I opened my mouth first, he took advantage, and the make-outs were epic. Perfect amount of tongue and lips, limited slobber. I climbed into his lap, straddling him. His free hand had drifted down to the small of my back, was running up along my spine between the top of my jeans and the band of my bra. It felt good; the fuzziness of my buzz and the gentleness of his touch. When his hands slid from back to front, gliding over the softness of my stomach and up, I was all in.

“We cool?” he asked. His fingers danced over the satin cups of my bra.