“Hey!” I scramble to grab the book back from him, feeling my ears go hot. “I thought it might be helpful to read. This one’s better though.” I crack open The Art of Love, flipping through the pictures inside. “It’s got a bunch of positions and tips, like a how-to guide.” I find the table of contents and run my thumb down the page until I get to the chapter I want. Then I show it to Andrew.

“I think we should try this one,” I say, pointing to the first drawing. “It seems like the easiest. We can work our way up to numbers two and four maybe, but I don’t know. They look kind of . . . scary.”

He takes the book from my hands and folds it closed, setting it aside on the bedside table. “We don’t need a book. Okay?”

“Oh,” I say. “I guess it’s all intuitive. I mean, animals learn to do it, right?” I think for a second. “Do you think animals watch other animals first so they know what to do? Or do you think they just know?”

“I think they just know,” he says. “And we will too.” He takes my hand.

“Okay,” I say. “So what do you usually do with girls? Show me the first step.”

“C’mere.” He uses our clasped hands to pull me closer to him, close enough I can feel the heat radiating off his body. His fingers thread through mine, rough and familiar. “We can be natural about this.” His voice is a whisper. “No steps. No planning. No books.”

I nod, unable to speak or breathe.

“Just tell me if you want me to stop, and I will.” He lifts his other hand to my face, resting it lightly against my cheek, and then tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. I lean in to his palm, getting used to the feel of him in this new way. He leans closer to me and I close my eyes, my lips parting slightly. My heart is thudding so loudly I’m sure he can hear it.

And then his lips touch mine, soft and tentative, and I inhale in surprise. I press back, leaning into him, and his hand on my cheek moves back into my hair, behind my head, pulling me even closer. He tastes familiar in a way I didn’t expect, and I open my mouth to taste more, feeling his tongue glide against mine, deepening the kiss. I feel unexpectedly at ease, my nerves draining out of me as I melt and swirl, dizzy and light-headed. His fingers untangle from mine and he brings his hand up my arm, brushing his fingertips up and down my skin in soft patterns. I place my hand on his chest, realizing fleetingly I’ve never touched him there. This is new uncharted territory. He feels strong and sturdy, a contrast to the soft knit of his sweater.