“Is that so?” She nestled in closer, their lips meeting once again. Privacy. An unexpected chill worked its way up her spine. It’s what she wanted, right? To be alone with him. It’s why she made him search the place. It’s why she wanted to come back here for a nightcap. Whitney would’ve invited him to her apartment, but Amelia was home tonight.

Part of Whitney felt bad heading out for her date, leaving Amelia on the couch, a bowl of popcorn in her lap and the TV blaring. But a night away from the teenage attitude and eye rolling sounded amazing.

Now she just kind of wanted to go home.

“Everything okay?” Jay studied her face.

Whitney sighed, feeling like the biggest dud on the planet. “Yes, everything is great.”

His eyes narrowed. “Funny, you’re saying the right words, but your face is telling a different story.”

“Sorry.” She frowned. “I am honestly having a great time. I always do with you.”

“But...” he prodded.

“But...Amelia’s home by herself tonight, and...”

He sat back on the couch, releasing her. “She’s a teenager. Surely, she can handle a night alone.”

The comment stung. “Of course she can handle a night alone. It’s just that we haven’t been getting along that great...and I don’t know...” Whitney wasn’t even sure what she was trying to say, let alone how to convey it.

“I wouldn’t worry about it.” Jay moved in close again, wrapped one arm around her middle and tugged her toward him. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

His hand slid under Whitney’s shirt and she shivered at his touch. She gave in to him then, allowing his mouth to cover hers, his hands to move over her skin, willing herself to be in the moment. As the kiss deepened, he guided her down on the couch. Her head hit the side. She drew her lips away from his, reaching up to rub the spot where her head met the couch.

“You okay?” he asked.

She was about to answer when the cat crawled into the room, meowing and staring up at her. Her flesh itched; she suddenly felt hyperaware of cat hair sticking to her skin. Wiping at it, she sat upright. From the half-open window she caught bits and pieces of the neighbors’ heated conversation as it clearly escalated.

“Yeah,” she said, looking away from the cat. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just distracted tonight.”

“I know.” Lifting his hand, he touched her cheek, brushed back a strand of hair. “But I’m sure your daughter is fine. I used to live for the nights my parents went out when I was her age.”

It was meant to make her feel better.

It succeeded in making her feel worse.

She readjusted her top, smoothed down her hair.