John unlocked the door which opened with a squeak. He entered first and threw his duffel bag into a corner before I followed suit behind him, closing the door behind me and taking my shoes off at the front door. The small living room we were standing in was neat, but the air was stale like no one had been here in months. To the right stood a heavy, dark brown leather couch on which we threw our coats, beside it a recliner, and to the left right beneath the window a loveseat of the same set. The carpet was a dirty beige—not a color I would have picked. Older pictures of John, his brother, and his parents lined the walls.

"I wish you'd look at me as fascinated as you're looking at the cabin right now." When I drew my gaze to him, John grinned.

"Please," I retorted, "as if I don't. We both know I suck at hiding my feelings."

"You're actually much too good at it. Good enough to fool Liam." I winced. "Too soon?"

He had earned himself a dirty look. "Jerk. I feel awful enough about it."

Slowly and with the elegance of a mountain lion, he approached me and pushed me against the front door, his forearms caging me. "Stop beating yourself up. He's a douche."

I sighed, softly wrapping a hand around his wrist. "He's not. You just don't like him."

"Though that's correct, he's still a douche. He manipulated you—"

"John, enough," I gently interrupted him. "We've been through this, even before we were together, and it never leads anywhere. I'm not here to discuss my ex-boyfriend with you."

"Thank fucking goodness," he rasped. The last word came out muffled as he kissed the skin my gray off-shoulder sweater revealed.

John towered over me in the most tempting way. Yet, my heart hammered not only from infatuation, but from nerves. I wasn't stupid, I knew what he had come out here to this remote cabin for.

It was surreal I was here with John, but then lots of things had changed in the past two weeks, since I had broken up with Liam and we had gotten together. I had told Jessica the day after our first-aid girls' night. She had been proud of me for taking responsibility, and the two of them had gotten to know each other better over several group dinners. She knew I genuinely liked him and being with him was good for me which was an enormous difference to being with Liam, no matter how good of a guy he was. At the first pregame I had been to in a long time, Greg and Linh had squealed and high-fived each other when John had kissed me hello. Aidan had shaken his head and grinned. Devin, who had known the longest out of anyone, had donned a smug grin the entire night, but was secretly thrilled for his best friend and happy to see me more often again.

John's mouth on my collarbone pulled me back to the sweet present. I ran a hand through his hair and wiggled out from underneath him. "We should start cooking dinner before it gets late." John sighed before following me into the kitchen where he started unpacking the grocery bag he'd brought in from the car.

***

"Stay put, I'll get it." John's tone was firm as he started to clear the table. When we had finished dinner, it was already 9 pm.

Regardless of his command, I stood and turned on the kitchen sink to run dishwater.

"Grace, you don't have to do that. Let me take care of you," he whined.

"That's sweet of you. But I don't need you to take care of me. I need you to grab a dish towel and dry this," I replied, waving the first plate in front of him.

Sighing, he took it and started drying. Washing the dishes had always been my job at home in light of our eternally to-be-fixed dishwasher. I could do it fast, thoroughly, and in my sleep. I probably had done it in my sleep a couple of times after a midnight snack when I had been pulling a late night studying for high school finals.

As John's lips touched the sensitive skin in the crook of my neck, shivers ran all over my body.

"Thank you for the delicious dinner," he mumbled against my skin.

"It was one-pot pasta, no big deal," I replied dismissively without taking my eyes off the last pieces of silverware in the sink.

"Still, better than anything I could ever make."

I turned my head and gave him a peck on the lips before excusing myself to use the bathroom and get changed into more comfortable gym shorts. There was nothing to see in the vicinity anyway, so we wouldn't be going out anymore.

When I returned to the kitchen a few minutes later, I found John had also changed into his basketball shorts and was putting away the last fork before hanging the damp towel over the back of one of the dining chairs. Then he shot me a wicked smile. Before I knew it, he had cornered me once again, this time against the sink. His hands snuck underneath my sweater to rest against my waist over the fabric of my tank top.

"Is there anything sweet for dessert?"

Laughing, I swatted at his arm. "I can't tell if you're being corny or a creep."

He caught my hand mid-air without taking his eyes off me. "Fine, then I'll be explicit: do you want to have sex with me?"

Holy fuck.

My cheeks, the bridge of my nose, my earlobes, everything went ablaze. Through my lashes, I looked up at him and tried to ignore the invisible cloud of tension between us. I wanted to, of course I did. But I wasn't feeling well at all. I didn't know if it had been the drive or the food, but I felt queasy. Still, I was determined not to disappoint him. We had just started dating and I didn't want to make John question the decision to be with me.

His thumb, still underneath my sweater, brushed over my stomach lightly. "I need a yes or a no from you, Grace."

I leaned forward to kiss him, then intertwined my fingers with his and looked at him smiling at me. His caramel-colored hair and syrupy brown eyes. He is so beautiful. "Yes."

"Should we move this to the bedroom, then?"

I nodded an okay and followed him down the only hall toward the back of the cabin and into his bedroom. It was sparsely furnished with a queen-size bed, a wooden dresser, and a tall shelf with nothing but a few framed candids of teenage John and Andrew and their respective teammates in their soccer jerseys next to a bunch of random things like a large Mason jar of marbles. Night had fallen quickly and John hadn't turned on the light so we were only illuminated by the rising moon sneaking in through the window.

The bed was pushed into the corner of the room and neatly covered by a colorful quilt which John now slung back, expression sheepish. "We don't come here a lot, but I promise it's clean. I changed the sheets earlier while you were in the bathroom."

Within a second, he flipped a switch and was now serious, taking my hands and touching his lips to the corner of my mouth. My hand found the back of his head. His kisses still left me dazed, like I was drunk on him.

He pulled away briefly and, his eyes never leaving mine, gently placed my hands against his stomach beneath his maroon t-shirt before he kissed me again. Taking my time, I gingerly let my hands roam over the hard muscles, fascinated by every dip and ridge. How is my boyfriend so hot? When he eventually tugged at my sweater, I granted him permission to take it off before I discarded my tank top as well, not even thinking until I stood in front of him in nothing but my bra and gym shorts. When I snuck a peek at my two-thirds naked body, I quickly covered myself with my arms.

John closed the distance between us and softly ran his hands along my arms, looking into my eyes. "We don't have to do this."

"No, I want to. I—I'm just nervous," I admitted.

Surprise glinted in his eye. "Have you had sex before?"

Exhaling, I looked at the ceiling. God, he's so direct. I admired that in him at other times, but this time my face heated up profusely and I cleared my throat. "A long time ago, with my high school boyfriend."

"So... you and Liam never slept together?"

"No."

The wave of relief washing over his face did not escape me. Yet, I followed an instinct and covered my eyes with my hands until he gently peeled them away.

"Don't be embarrassed. There's no reason. You tell me what's okay and when to stop, alright? We'll only do what we're both comfortable with."

His hand stroked my back to comfort me. My heart was still beating fast, but it was full of him now. John paid attention. He was doing all of this for me. After having had a crush on him for months, I hadn't thought I'd ever be with him. And here I was, almost being with him as much as two people could be, and he was so sweet. From the way he'd pinned me to the door right when we came in, I knew he was restraining himself right now. I got on my tiptoes, placing my hands on his upper arms, and kissed him on the lips.

My voice was barely more than a whisper when I said: "Thank you."

Glancing down at me now, he first peeked at my chest in my powder blue bra, then looked back into my eyes.

"God, you're beautiful," he mumbled and pulled me into a velvet embrace, his one hand on the small of my back and the other in my hair on the nape of my neck. I eased into his hold, after a moment slinging my arms around his waist.

After a while, he pulled away and jumped onto the bed, still fully dressed in his basketball shorts and maroon t-shirt and wide grin, then patted the space next to him. I threw my tank top back on and laid down to face him. Our faces were so close our noses almost touched. The fingertips stroking up and down my arm left a field of goosebumps in their wake. Without meaning to, the thought crossed my mind that five weeks ago, his ex would have been lying here instead of me. Almost in real time, John noticed my averted gaze and stiffened body.

"What is it? Something just happened."

I stared at the pattern of the pillowcase. Damnit, Grace, why do you have to ruin this night? Be normal. But I couldn't.

"Do you want to talk about your high school ex?" he asked hesitantly.

I shook my head no. So we lay there for another excruciatingly long minute in which I stared at the white and baby blue polka-dots and tried my hardest to ban the image of the two of them fooling around from my mind. It was like a scary movie at the theater: my eyes were fixed on the projection on the screen, and although it was horrifying, I couldn't get up and leave. Instead I watched replay over replay of him on top of her, making love to her while telling her she was beautiful. My insides churned and I hoped I wouldn't be sick.

"Please talk to me. What's wrong?" he asked softly.

Yeah, Grace, what the hell is wrong! Internally, I screamed, but externally shrugged one shoulder.

He half rose from the bed, alarm in his eyes at my lack of response. "Grace. Are you okay? What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing," I said quickly, meeting his eyes.

Driven by a sudden impulse, I rose and straddled him. John looked at me with obvious confusion and opened his mouth to speak. Before he could, I lowered my mouth to his and started kissing him fervently. My hands roamed his torso and slipped beneath his t-shirt. He kissed me back more hesitantly and cupped my face in one hand in an attempt to slow me down. When I continued leaving sloppy kisses along his collarbone and hooked one finger in the waistband of his shorts, his hand snapped to mine.

"Okay, Grace, stop. Not that I don't want this—I do—but not like this. What's going on?"

I closed my eyes, mortified, and rolled back onto the bed, facing away from John. Of course he didn't want me like that. What had gotten into me? I didn't even feel like myself.

"Babe, you're freaking me out a little." His fingertips softly touched my shoulder.

A tear rolled from my right eye across the bridge of my nose and dripped onto the sheet. I could watch the white becoming grayish-transparent in that spot.

"I'm sorry," I said and choked up hard. "I don't know what that was."

John now sat up to get a better look at me from above. "There's no need to apologize. Just tell me what happened."

"I—" I wanted to continue but was fighting the tears and the huge lump in my throat. After taking a deep breath, I spoke with a shaking voice: "—couldn't get the image out of my head how you used to do and say these exact things to someone else. And that you thought she was beautiful."

"Who, Jenna? Grace, where is this coming from? She and I are over and out. I'm with you now, only you. Okay?"

He turned me around carefully to look into my eyes. I searched his for a trace of dishonesty but couldn't find any. If only he would tell me what I needed to hear. As much as his fingers brushing over my elbow comforted me, it wasn't quite enough.

"Really?" I sniffed.

"Really," he promised. Then I tugged at his arm to have him lay down beside me and melted into his big spoon. I had blown it. Had I simply said I wasn't ready, I would have made less of a fool of myself.

'You're the only one I want to be with', I imagined him saying. 'Dating Jenna was a mistake and she never meant as much to me as you do.' I desperately wanted to erase her. Jessica's voice rang in my head, reminding me that I needed to realize I was smart and caring and worth it.

John ripped me out of my fantasy when he cleared his throat and said with a trace of humor in his voice: "Um... Grace? I love to cuddle, but you're gonna have to stop shifting like this or things will get uncomfortable pretty quickly."

I blushed, mumbled a 'sorry' and scooted away from him, but his hand on my hip kept mefrom shuffling away as far as my embarrassment would have had me do. He kissedmy bare shoulder, then pulled the comforter over us and rested his nose againstmy neck. The moonlight seeped through the window and cast a miraculous glowonto the furniture. As thoughts were racing through my head and only graduallyslowing down, I lay awake for a long time even after John's deep, regularbreathing told me he'd drifted off into sleep.