hair, tugging with enough force that her head rolls back, giving me access to her jaw, her neck. I release the window ledge and bring my hand to her shoulder, down her chest, the backs of my fingers skimming a part of her I’ve fantasized about for so long. Too long. She moans, taking my mouth again. Then my jaw. My throat. God, I love her there. She nuzzles into my neck, her breaths heavy. My heart races, blood rushing to an organ I’ll no doubt be paying attention to as soon as I’m back in bed. “I could do this all night,” she whispers.
I grunt. Because I’m incapable of forming words, apparently.
“But we can’t,” she says, laughing silently. “Another minute, and what we’re doing will be illegal.”
I take a few calming breaths, let my pulse settle. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
She rears back, my hand still in her hair. Then she offers one last kiss. Chaste. Her eyes lock on mine, a smile playing on her lips. “Goodnight, boyfriend.”
Chapter 35
Connor
With my basketball schedule and school and Ava’s life, we don’t get anywhere near as much time together as I want. And with the team doing as well as it has been, there are more commitments I have to deal with. Pep rallies, meetings, and media interviews. It’s not a bad thing. It means more chances of being noticed, but it sucks that I barely get to even speak to my girlfriend. And we’re only ten days into the relationship.
Ava: Hey, can you ask your dad when my dressing is supposed to come off? I can’t remember whether he said ten or fourteen days.
I peel myself off the couch and go to the kitchen, where Dad’s starting on dinner. “Hey, Ava wants to know when she should take the dressing off her burns.”
Dad looks up from whatever he’s doing. “It depends on how well it’s healed.”
“Okay, I’ll tell her,” I say, starting to type out a text.
“She can come around if she wants me to have a look at it.”
I pause, my thumbs hovering over the screen. I look at Dad again, my eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”
He nods.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Connor: Dad says it depends on how it’s healed, but you can come over, and he can take a look at it.
Ava: …
Connor: ?
Ava: Are you sure?
Connor: That’s what he said.
Ava: Okay, I’ll be over in a bit.
“She says she’ll be around soon,” I tell Dad.
“Good.”
Something’s off with Dad’s reaction, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. Regardless, I find my home back on the couch and wait. Fifteen minutes later, there’s a knock on the door, and I’m on my feet and swinging that bitch open. The door. Not Ava. She’s not a bitch. She’s The Best. I lean down to kiss her, but she presses her hands to my chest, stopping me. She shakes her head, and I smell… perfume? Ava never wears perfume, at least not that I know of. I take a step back to let her in. She’s dressed nice, but like, if she were going-to-church type nice. I like Ava in tank tops and sweats, and yeah, her school uniform, but that’s a whole other conversation. “Why are you dressed like that?” I whisper.
She elbows my gut. “Shut up.”
“Hi, Ava,” Dad calls from the kitchen. He points a knife at the couch. “Just take a seat, and I’ll be with you in a moment.” He’s all sweetness and smiles, and I’m suspect.
My eyes narrow at him and then Ava when she says, “Thank you, sir. I appreciate this a lot.”
I flop down next to her, throw my arm over her shoulders. She pushes my hand away. “What’s with you?”
“Not now,” she hisses without moving her lips.
Dad comes into the living room drying his hands on a dish towel. He sits on the coffee table, dish towel beside him, and asks, “Can I take a look?”
Ava cranes her neck. “Sure.”
While Dad’s focused on peeling off the dressing, I put my hand on Ava’s knee. She pushes it away again.
“It looks like it’s healed just fine,” Dad says. “No more dressing, but be sure to use the cream I gave you until it’s all gone, okay?”
Ava nods. “Thanks again, Mr. Ledger.”
He gathers all the dressing and stands. “No problem.”
Ava stands, too, and I take her hand. This time, she lets me. “I’ll walk you back.”
I open the door at the same time Dad calls Ava’s name. Ava turns to him, her eyes wide, shoulders rigid. Dad