Reagan smiled widely. “Fandom looks good on you.” She flicked the bill of Jill’s hat before turning it backward. “But I think it looks better like this.”

“Is that so?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Mm-hmm. Because then I can do this,” she said, kissing her.

Jill moaned in approval, wrapping her arms around Reagan’s waist and tugging her forward so quickly they fell back into a lamppost.

As she grazed her teeth against Reagan’s lower lip, Reagan gripped on to her jacket and groaned as she pulled away. “See. Much easier with it backward.”

Jill chuckled. “I definitely agree with you.” Several pairs of eyes stared at them. She whispered to Reagan, “But as much as I want to continue, I’m not giving strangers a show. That’s reserved only for you.”

“Right,” she replied shakily. An alert chimed, and she pulled out her phone. “He’s pulling up.”

They turned in time to see a black Elantra stop at the curb. The driver rolled down his window and asked, “Reagan?”

“Yep.” She pocketed her phone and opened the back door.

Jill slid in and held out her hand to Reagan as she followed. The driver turned on the radio, leaving them to themselves. Riding along, Jill rested her hand on Reagan’s thigh, becoming a little more daring with each passing minute. She slowly moved higher and higher, sneaking a glance every so often to gauge Reagan’s interest. Her heated stare and the slight parting of her thighs hinted at exactly what she wanted.

Jill continued her slow strokes as she looked out the window when the song changed. Immediately, the thigh beneath her hand turned to stone. She looked to Reagan, whose face had gone ghostly white, noticeable even in the dark car. The streetlights illuminated her eyes filled with tears.

Panicked, Jill squeezed Reagan’s knee. “What’s wrong?”

“His song,” Reagan choked out before stifling a sob with her hand.

Jill heard the familiar notes of “Lean on Me” and was confused as to what Reagan meant, but within seconds she understood. Her father. “Change the station.”

“But this is a great song,” the driver replied.

“Change the fucking song. Now,” she barked. He obeyed, and Jill wrapped her arm around Reagan. She kissed the crown of her head and whispered that everything would be okay. Reagan stayed relatively quiet, but Jill couldn’t ignore the continual shaking of her shoulders.

After the driver pulled up to her building, Jill helped Reagan out of the car and into her condo. Once she closed the door behind them, Jill cupped Reagan’s cheek. “Let me get you some water.”

Reagan nodded as she moved to a stool. Jill placed the glass in front of her, and Reagan shakily brought it to her mouth and took two small sips.

She pushed a few wayward strands of hair behind her ear. “Feel better?”

“Yeah. Thank you.”