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Despite the chaos leading up to our date, dinner is a resounding success. Unlike the last two guys, Elijah is a perfect gentleman. And despite the fact that I can’t remember what I ordered—and I don’t remember eating it—the food was delicious. We spent the entire meal discussing safe topics, like upcoming Greek events, future job prospects, and our school’s sports stats. Nothing remotely suggesting he knows about the “get laid” plan.

We top off dinner by sharing a chocolate lava cake, and he doesn’t even complain when I eat more than half. Then Elijah pays the bill, and we walk hand in hand to his car.

But the moment I relax into my seat for the ride back to campus, Elijah makes a wrong turn, followed almost immediately by another, and my anxiety comes back with a vengeance.

“Uh, Elijah? I think campus is the other way.”

He throws me a nervous glance as he drives toward the outskirts of town. “I thought maybe we could go to the park and, uh, talk.”

“Okay.” My stomach flutters as I nod, wondering if talk is guy code for something else.

After weaving around the narrow, paved road to the back of the deserted city park, he pulls into a spot across from the duck pond and cuts the engine.

The quiet stretches between us until he finally turns to me. “I had a nice time tonight.”

“Me, too.”

Inching toward me, he slowly leans in, bringing his nose a few inches from mine. “I like you, Kennedy.”

“And I like—”

Before I finish the thought, Elijah’s lips are on mine.

The kiss starts out gentle, almost shy—not as competitive as Tyler or as aggressive as Caleb—but it doesn’t take him long to warm up. As we settle into a comfortable rhythm, and my stomach fills with fluttering butterfly wings, Elijah throws on the brakes.

He gazes into my eyes. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but . . . Why do you want to do this?”

“Do what?” My dinner curdles as a ripple of anxiety runs through my insides.

“Forget I said anything.” He shakes his head, going in for another kiss.

This time, I push the pause button, putting some distance between us. “No. Tell me.”

“I don’t get it.” Elijah sags into the driver’s seat. “You’re a beautiful woman, and I’d love to get to know you better—to actually date you.”

I swallow the lump forming in my throat and wait for the but.

His blue eyes flash in the dark as he watches me. “I get that you’re anxious to get this over with, but I’m not sure I can do that.”

My stomach bottoms out completely, and I’m afraid to breathe as I let his words sink in.

Does he know?

He palms the back of his neck. “And after hearing what happened with Tyler and Caleb, I’ve got a case of performance anxiety.”

I finally release a breath, and his gaze darts to mine again.

“Nothing I can’t get past. But Kennedy, this is all a little clinical and calculated for me. I guess that makes me kind of a . . . a pussy.” He laughs. “Don’t get me wrong. I’d love to be the guy who takes your virginity, but not like this. Not after one date.”

Sweet Jesus . . . he does. But how?

“I understand.” I swallow the rising panic and make every effort to appear calm, when on the inside, I’m spiraling.

A million tiny needles stab me everywhere at once, and hot tingling horror rolls through me like a rogue wave. My gut reaction is to scream at him at the top of my lungs—to thoroughly disabuse him of the notion that he knows what in the ever-loving-hell he’s talking about. But I don’t. Because it would seem he knows more than I do, and until I know exactly what—and how he found out—I’ll be keeping my cards firmly off the table.

“Um, Elijah . . . I feel kinda sick. Can you take me home?”

“Are you mad? I promise you, I’m willing, but I’d like to get to know you a little better first.”