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And yet, when I’d shared beds with friends in middle school or high school, my stomach hadn’t popped and fizzed this way. I scooted over to the left to lie flush against the wall, while he took the outside edge, so far over that half his body seemed to be hanging in the air. “You can come closer, you know.” I swallowed, my throat dry. “I don’t want you to fall off.”

The thing about a full-size bed is that there isn’t actually that much room. So when I pushed off the wall so that my side wasn’t against the hard, cold surface and Seth wasn’t hanging off the edge of the bed, there couldn’t have been more than a few inches between us. We were lying on top of the blanket, but even so, I felt his heat push up against me.

I rolled on my side so I could look him in the eye. “Are you comfortable?”

He was on his side, too, his eyes level with mine, which meant his feet must have been hanging off the end of the bed. “I’m comfortable. Are you?”

There was a whole world unspoken in that question mark. So many different things I could say. And I knew that, depending on what I decided, we could go in so many different directions from here. Ones that could lead to that radiating heat coming off him touching my own.

So, naturally, I chickened out. “Not as comfortable as your parents.”

Nothing like bringing up someone’s parents to kill any heat in the room. Seth chuckled. “That’s probably true.”

He stared at me. I stared at him. God help me, but that heat sparked all over my skin once more. Quick, bring up his parents again.

I didn’t listen to that intrusive thought. “You’re different than I thought you were,” I said.

“You already told me that. I told you I was just as annoying here as I was in Vermont.”

“No, it’s not that.” I paused and held his gaze. His eyes were dark and deep in the shadow of the room; I couldn’t even tell where pupil and iris began and ended. I might fall in if I wasn’t careful.

When had I stopped being careful? “You’re so…good,” I said. “You and your family and your friends. You’re so normal and good.”

The corners of his lips quirked with amusement. “Thank you?”

He usually picked up on what I was trying to say without actually saying it. Because what I really meant was, You and your family and your friends, you’re so normal and good, unlike me. I’m not normal. There’s something wrong with me and I don’t think I can ever fix it and be normal like you and I’m sad, so sad.

“So what you’re saying is that I’m not annoying after all,” Seth said.

“Ugh.” The sadness dissipated. “Don’t make me say it.”

He scooched closer. One of his hands brushed mine, a gentle touch that sent tingles racing from the tips of my fingers to my shoulder to my heart. “I’m going to make you say it.”

“I’m not going to say it.” I didn’t move my hand, either. Well, I did, but not away—this time I purposefully brushed it against his. His breath went ragged.

“Say it.” His lips quirked. Mine did in response, and damn it, what I used to find incredibly annoying now sparked joy. But I couldn’t say that. I wouldn’t say it. I had to shut him up in another way.

Obviously, I had no choice but to kiss him.

It barely took any movement to close the inches-deep gap between us, but close it I did, pressing up against him like I could melt us together with the heat of our bodies. Our lips were liquid, molten rivers of want and need pulsing against each other, opening and searching and finding. A small groan escaped his throat as I tangled my fingers in his curls to bring his face closer to mine, as if it could get any closer. His stubble scratched my chin, and through the haze of want want want the burn heightened the heat inside me.

We were fully pressed up against each other now, one of my legs between his, one of his hands cupping my hip and pulling me in. Against my belly I could feel him stiffening, his hips pushing even harder into me with a pressure that made me gasp. More of that molten heat sparked between my legs, spreading up and down with a hot rush that made me desperate for the bare, slick feel of his skin under these clothes.

And then he pulled back, his other hand stroking my cheek, sending tingles through my chin and down my neck. His eyes were the softest I’d ever seen them: melted chocolate. I’d done that. I’d melted them. “Hey,” he said, voice hoarse.

“Hey.” Mine was hoarse, too. It was like how bad we wanted each other, how long we’d waited for this, had scoured the both of us from the inside out.

That spark lit again inside me, only this time it wasn’t just physical. Maybe this could be real. Maybe it didn’t have to end in three days—maybe I really had changed enough where Seth’s positive attitude and sunny disposition would forever be no longer annoying but beautiful. Maybe I could really become a part of his family and friend group, and they’d grow to love me and I’d love them back. Maybe I could kiss him every night before I went to bed and he’d decorate my small, shitty apartment and I’d make sure he had coffee and breakfast every morning.

This close, when Seth spoke, I could feel his breath on my face. “I’m going to take that as an admission that you no longer find me annoying.”

I sighed. I felt as if I might melt into the bed. Was this what it felt like to relax? If it was, maybe I’d finally take up yoga or something. “Whatever. Fine. I suppose that, at times, I do not find your presence annoying.”

“Thank you,” he said smugly, but then he ran his fingers through my hair, and it made me want to melt again. My lips found his, and I let myself give in. My body glittered with sparks, some that caught fire where his fingers trailed along my jaw, my collarbone, the curve of my waist.

My own fingers explored his body greedily as we kissed again and again. I wanted to drink it all in: the dip between the muscles of his back; the soft but wiry brush of hair where his shirt rode up on his stomach; the hard cup of his ass. I wanted to feel what they felt like under his clothes, too, and for a moment I went to slip my hand down there, but hesitated. This was his childhood bedroom. Probably not the place for this. So instead I curled up into him, thinking I could stay there forever.

And then, of course, he had to ruin it. Or maybe I ruined it. It was hard to tell. He pulled back to speak. “You’re not bad or abnormal, you know. There’s nothing wrong with you. I like you how you are.”