What a pathetic, churchy hick Connor Major turned out to be: all bark and no bite, eyes bigger than his stomach, with the emotional growth of a twelve-year-old. My best friend, Vicky, thought it was hilarious that I didn’t know was 69-ing was. I’m seventeen, was looked dead in the eye, and got asked if I knew what this basic, ordinary, everyday sex thing was…and I blanked. My mom never told me anything, school certainly never told me anything, not even TV told me anything. And I was too wussy to look it up myself online. Someone might as well have asked me to Google how to dismember a human body. I’m not putting that shit on my browser history.

In Ario’s room, another guilty sting strikes me as I find the pictures smothering his baby blue walls. I’m in at least ten of them: our faces smooshed together outside Starbucks; us at the bookstore where we met; the Denny’s where we stayed out way too late talking (and doing other stuff in my car). He’s proud of us. He puts us on his wall like normal people do.

Ario deserves a boyfriend who doesn’t jump away from him.

My second chance arrives right away. This time, I don’t duck. This kiss is deeper than our one in the hallway; it’s louder, more forceful, and on a mission. His fruity cologne mixes with something new: sweat. Grinning, Ario retreats to his desk to queue up what I’ve come to call a typical Ario playlist. I wait, marinating in my anxiety, as spooky electronica floats out of a Bluetooth speaker. He returns hungry-eyed, the crotch of his strawberry-pink shorts already swollen, and he guides me to his bed before lowering me onto the flannel sheets. Maybe he’ll just do everything himself, and all I have to do is let it happen. With a large, toughened hand, he massages the bulge growing beneath my own shorts, and my breath quickens like a sweltering dog’s. Pinned underneath his weight, I writhe as his hand travels down my bare thigh and then renavigates upward, inside my boxer briefs. The stinging sensation of his hand on my skin rests awkwardly somewhere between pleasure and pain. Ninety percent of my body craves this closeness, wants to guide Ario’s hand further…

But that last ten percent is a whiny baby.

I pinch my boyfriend’s wrist to stop his momentum, but immediately hate myself. “I’m starting to think you only come here for the turnovers,” he whispers in my ear, making my erection come alive again. Part of me still doesn’t want to do anything, but my heart’s deepest wish is to get this boy buck naked. My head throbs with confusion—I have no clue what I want. Every thought contradicts the last one.

“I’m sorry,” I moan. “It’s just…if you don’t stop, I’m gonna rip your clothes off and won’t be able to help myself.”

“Shred them, beast…” Ario plants a gentle kiss on my neck. If he knew how close I was to losing all control, he’d ease up. My breaths arrive more rapidly, tightening my throat and drenching my lips.