I hold my breath, readying. My fingers slide my shirt to the side and roll the cup of my bra under my breast. The air greets this bit of my nakedness. Alec watches my face and I force myself to study his, to not look away.
And the thrill is deep. Like skinny-dipping. The raw, unlawful act of exposing your private bits to the air. I bite my lip, hard.
“God, I love you,” he says.
A screech in the distance pulls my attention, asks me: What are you doing? This can’t be right. I fold in my shoulders trying to hide, but Alec slips toward me with the confidence of a hunting snake. He holds his head steady just in front of me, right in front of my naked breast, but he doesn’t touch me. I reach for his hair then, wanting him to cover me, protect me. My chest rises and falls with heavy breaths. I comb my fingers through his hair, trying to pull him closer.
He hovers. His hot breath teases me. I lean into him. The heat between my legs has become a voice and it’s screaming inside of me. And just when I think I can’t take it a moment longer, he reaches me. His hands explore my body and I pull him closer, deeper.
By the time we get to his bedroom I’m shaking. We lie on the bed floating somewhere between excitement and exhaustion. Alec’s body is pressed up against mine, our shirts off. He strokes my hair at the temple. “I’ll miss you,” he whispers.
“I don’t have to leave for a while.”
He tucks a curl behind my ear. “No, I mean next year. When you’ll be hundreds of miles away.”
“I don’t know anything for sure yet.” Like how I’ll survive without seeing him every day.
He kisses me on the cheek. “I love being with you, Zephyr actually.”
I look through hooded eyes, flirting even now. I want to tempt his tongue to mine, tempt his tongue to my chest, my neck, my arm, my . . . I press into him harder, wrap my legs around his.
He drops his head into my shoulder. “Don’t. I’ll devour you right here.”
Devour? A flush of want heats my skin.
“You have no idea how you make me feel.”
But I do.
“I want to show you something.” Alec reaches for his bedside table. I hear the wood slide of the drawer. “Here.” He hands me a letter. I see the Michigan return address, know what it is. Hate that it is here, now, in bed with us.
I don’t want to open it. I don’t want to read the words. I unfold the paper and I know it makes me a shitty person, but I pray he got rejected. Gregg’s words revisit, justify: We’re all selfish sometimes.
But Alec didn’t get rejected from the University of Michigan. The proof is in my hands.
He watches me read. “Crazy, huh?”
“Not totally crazy. I mean, you kind of knew, right?” I force a smile. It kills me I haven’t heard from Boston College yet.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
Sadness haunts my face, cracks my words. “Nothing. I’m really happy for you.”
He strokes my cheek. “So why do you look like you’re about to cry?”
I sit up, pull a pillow to my chest. As if a square of feathers could protect my heart. “It just seems so real now. Everyone’s hearing about their plans for next year and . . . I don’t know . . . what if I’m the loser who gets left behind?” Gregg’s pep talk is lost to me in this moment and I am rudderless again.
“You’re not a loser, Zephyr, and I would never leave you.”
My exhale sobs, my words rush. “Well”—I shake the paper—“this letter doesn’t exactly inspire a lot of hope that we’ll be together next year. They want you there in July, Alec. July. That’s half a year away. It might as well be tomorrow. God, how can this all be happening? I was fine last night, you know. I was actually dumb enough to believe Gregg when he said I’d hear soon, that I was worthy of Boston College. But I don’t have a letter. You do. You know what your future holds. All I know is how far away Michigan is. It’s so far, Alec. On another planet far.”
“Zephyr?”
I pull in a deep breath, try to calm my rampage. The silence of Alec’s room battles with the cacophony in my head. “Yeah?” I whisper.
“What do you mean about last night?”
I stop, stumble. “What?”
He repeats the question with a hard stare, his posture suddenly too straight. “Did you see Gregg on Thanksgiving? You said you were with your mom.”
“I was, but our families have this tradi—”
“You were with him last night?”
I search his eyes. “Not like that. I mean, yeah, I was at his house, but I wasn’t with him with him.”
“Is that why you didn’t answer my calls?”