“Well,” I said, taking a deep breath and adjusting myself on his chest. He’d made it so I could lay my head on his bicep, and I couldn’t help but notice how, whichever way we were, it was always comfortable, always a right fit. “It ought to be incredible, right? Love, I mean. I should feel exquisite.”

“I suppose.”

“My first time was…good.”

He scoffed. “Ouch.”

I chuckled. “No, it was good. Really good.”

“But?”

“But it wasn’t mind-blowing.”

“Does it have to be?”

“I guess not,” I said. “It’s just—I mean, you’re going to remember it, aren’t you? Your first time. No matter whom it’s with, where or how, you’ll always carry them with you.”

“True.”

“I just think it should be with someone you’ll want to remember. Forget love,” I said. “But there should be something more, something worth remembering. I think so, at least.”

“Are you okay with remembering your first?”

“I am, actually. You?”

“Absolutely,” he categorically stated.

“See? We’re good, then.”

As I spoke, we heard footsteps approaching, coming up the stairs.

“Noah,” I told him quietly.

“Maybe I should go,” he said, suddenly nervous.

“Why?”

“It’s getting late.”

“Almost early, really.” I bit my lip, smirking.

“I’m not saying I want to go—”

“Then don’t.”

“You mean—?”

“Sleep with me, Ethan,” I said, biting my lip again.

He smiled, then started running his fingers through my hair. “What if I snore?”

“I won’t mind.”

“What if I hog the duvet?”

“I’ll scoot closer.”

“What if I end up not wanting to leave?”

“Please don’t.” Once again, I bit my lip.

He stopped moving his fingers and turned to look at me.

“I don’t want you to go,” I said, shaking my head.

He quickly turned serious. “I don’t have your number. That’s why I was thinking about my phone before, because I was thinking I’m going to want to talk to you after I leave, but I still don’t have your phone number.”

“Oh. You could get it from our Lit class list, but—” I reached across his chest, getting on top of him again so I could open my nightstand drawer.

I removed a pen, uncapped it between my teeth, and gently wrote my number on his forearm.

“There.” I threw the pen back inside the drawer and resumed my spot, comfortably nestled on his chest.

*