Sometimes, when his mom and stepdad were gone, and we had the house to ourselves, we’d go into his room and wrestle under the sheets. Wrestling was his way of copping feels in places he considered off-limits. I knew he liked it. I knew from the way his hands would hesitate and he’d let out a groan, and from the way his erection pressed against me. When things got too heavy, he’d pull off the covers, scoot to the edge of the bed, and pick up his guitar.

Hair wild and snapping with static, he’d play me a song until he got lost in the music. But I didn’t have it bad for music the way he did. I had it bad for him. Him, and nothing else. He was my thing. And the way he looked there, with his face flushed and his shirt undone, just made me want him more.

I’d fan my face, take deep, measured breaths, but the second the song stopped, I wanted him more than ever. His skin against me. His mouth on mine. I wanted all of him.

He set his guitar down and climbed back toward me, pinning my arms over my head and kissing me.

This. Was. Maddening. What was virginity, anyway? Just a stupid social construct that meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. Sex was good, natural. Not having my virginity didn’t make me any less worthy of him. But I hated feeling like it meant everything to him, like if he knew what I’d done with Kane, he’d hate me. I tensed and closed my eyes.

“What?” Declan asked, blinking in surprise.

“I don’t know if I can take this much more,” I said to him. “I mean, if you and I… We could. No one would know. It’s just us.”

He shook his head. I knew what he was thinking. His God would know.

Forget it. I sat up, straightened my hair, fastened the buttons that had come undone on my blouse. I opened the door to the hallway. I needed air.

Kane’s door was closed. He and Luisa had finally stopped dancing around the subject and gotten together. They’d escaped in there an hour ago, which probably meant they were doing what we were not. Sometimes, I’d hear his headboard bang against the wall and think of him on top of her.

Declan cornered me in the hallway and kissed my neck. He stroked my cheek. “You’re mad?”

“A little. You’re driving me crazy.”

“Well, hell. That’s the best place to be,” he said with a little smirk, the smirk that made it impossible to hate him. All the while, he kept stroking my cheek, contemplating my every feature.