This isn’t like it was with Leo. This is Nick and me, mutually deciding.

Come on, I tell myself. Dare to dance.

“Maybe I should take the dress off,” I say.

“Holy geez.” Nick shivers visibly. “I might spontaneously combust if you were to get naked right now. Maybe we should try kissing first?”

I nod and wet my lips. He steps closer. His hand touches my bare arm, and it’s my turn to shiver.

“Is this okay?”

I nod mutely.

We move toward each other.

“I haven’t done this before, either,” he says suddenly.

“I know.”

“Should I close my eyes? I don’t want to miss you somehow—this feels like one of those keep-your-eye-on-the-ball sort of moments. But if I keep my eyes open, will it be creepy, like I’m staring? In movies they always close their eyes.”

“I think you should do whatever feels right to you,” I say.

I close my own eyes.

His hand touches my waist. I put my hand out and reach for his shoulder. It’s nice, warm and solid and with more meat on it than I thought he had. All that video game playing must have some positive effect on his delts.

I can feel his breath on my chin.

This is fine, I think. We’re fine.

“So to be absolutely clear here, I can kiss you now?” Nick asks.

“Oh, for god’s sake, Nick, yes. Please do.”

He leans in, angling up, and I bend a little to meet him. His lips brush mine, soft and brief. It’s like a whispered hello.

So far, so good.

“Now can I kiss you?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

I put my mouth on his more firmly this time, and try to stay there a bit longer, so it will resemble less of a peck and more of a romantic kiss. I know how to do this. The one good thing about my relationship with Leo, I think, is that I got in some good practice kissing.

We kiss a few more times, until I take a step back. “That was . . .”

Definitely not epic.

Not that I expected the earth to move under me, kissing Nick Kelly. And it wasn’t bad, at all. It was . . . “nice.”

But the problem is, it wasn’t anything more than that. Kissing Nick didn’t make me lose myself in him or tremble with desire or go weak in the knees.

I refuse to give up, though.

I’m ready. For real, this time.

“Maybe we should . . . ,” Nick starts to say, but I blurt out, “Let’s take our clothes off,” and pull his suit jacket off his shoulders and fling it onto a nearby chair.

Something works in his throat. “Ada . . .”

“If we’re going to do it, we should just do it,” I say quickly.

He scratches the back of his neck. “I don’t think—”