We’re both breathing heavily. Harsh, ragged inhales and exhales are the only sounds filling the still night air. My body feels loose and languid. Relaxed. I don’t want to move. I want to sink into this moment, the way you snuggle beneath a blanket on the couch.

Anticipation of what awkwardness could be coming propels me into action.

Holden is still holding my hips, but his grip has loosened. His hands fall as I pull away from him and stand up. He’s watching me move away while wearing an unreadable expression. There’s no sign of pleasure or satisfaction on his face, even though I felt him come.

And rather than ask if that meant anything, if I mean anything to him, I turn around and walk away. Non-confrontational, nice Cassia doesn’t demand answers.

Also, I’m embarrassed. I initiated things. I crawled into his lap and got myself off. Do guys turn girls down in that position? Especially when they’re drunk?

I close my eyes to the reality of what just took place, only opening them when I reach the front door. I fumble with the handle, eager to get inside quickly on the off chance Holden is coming after me and wants to discuss what happened.

It’s unlikely, considering he’s made a habit of ignoring me most of the time. But I know for sure he won’t barge into his sister’s bedroom for answers.

There are no footsteps behind me as I yank off the hoodie with shaky fingers and hang it back on the hook. I don’t want to wake up wearing a reminder of tonight.

Silently, I creep up the stairs and slip into Sydney’s bedroom. She’s fast asleep, like always. Hair fanned across her pillow and a peaceful expression on her face.

For a moment, I wish she wasn’t Holden’s sister. That I could wake her up and tell the closest friend I have what just happened between me and the only boy who’s ever given me butterflies. The guy I’ve had a crush on since before I could identify what one was.

Instead, I crawl onto the air mattress and try to fall asleep.

It meant nothing, I tell myself.

Lie to myself.

CHAPTER SIX

HOLDEN

I should have kissed her.

That’s the main thought that keeps circling around in my head, instead of listening to Mr. Watson drone on about different types of seaweed and how to easily identify them. I thought Oceanography would be an easy senior year science elective. It’s equally boring, unfortunately.

I tap my pen against the metal rings of my open notebook, my thoughts chaotic and my knee bouncing.

When the girl who’s always been the girl ends up in your lap, humping your dick, you kiss her. Right?