“Yes, finishing is very important. But the score still matters, Taylor. This wasn’t only about you getting through the test—it was about finding your baseline, remember? Let’s just see how you did.”

“Fine,” she said. She pushed up from the table. “But I can’t sit here and watch while you do this.”

She went into the kitchen and grabbed the bunch of bananas hanging from a hook above the fruit bowl. She tore one off and peeled it as she paced from the edge of the kitchen island to the refrigerator. She was sure she could hear the seconds ticking away on the microwave’s clock as she waited for Jamar to finish.

She’d mashed five bananas and measured out all the dry ingredients for banana bread by the time she heard Jamar’s footsteps. She went to stand near the sink, preparing for the worst. When he appeared in the entry to the kitchen, Taylor knew she was about to receive bad news.

“Well?” she asked.

“Your raw score in science was a twenty-eight out of forty, so that’s good. The others, not so good,” he said. He held the score sheet out to her.

Taylor took it and read over his markings.

“A sixteen overall?”

“Yeah. That places you in the bottom third, percentage-wise.”

She looked up at him, a smile breaking out over her face. “The last time I took this test, I scored a twelve.” Taylor laughed at the way his eyes grew wide. “Don’t look so spooked. I know this isn’t the best score, but it’s honestly so much better than I expected.”

She was giddy with the relief spreading through her. She wrapped her arms around Jamar’s neck.

“Thank you for doing this,” she said. “And for not letting me run away.”

He settled his hands at her waist. “You’re welcome.”

She lifted her lips to his and captured his mouth. What started out slow and gentle quickly turned manic and brutal. Heat shot through her veins as Jamar relieved her of her clothes, pulling the sweatshirt over her head and unclasping her bra with one hand.

Taylor stood in the middle of his kitchen in jeans and flip-flops, and nothing else. As he trailed his tongue along the slope of her neck, his hands caressed her breasts, kneading them, pinching her nipples until they tightened to the point of pain.

He released her hair from the clip that held her braids, letting them fall down her back. Then he pushed his hands through her hair, holding her head steady, his tongue plunging in and out.

Old insecurities tried to creep in as his lips trailed down her neck, across her collarbone, along the shallow valley between her breasts. Taylor shoved them out of her head.