“Root?”

“Root of my problem. I thought that everything went back to him. But I realized that everything goes back to me and how I react when something happens.”

He gives me his sexiest grin, pulls me inside his room, and locks the door. “People do make mistakes, you know. You're about to make one right now.”

“I am?”

He unzips the back of my dress. It falls to the floor. Thank goodness I wore good underwear. I almost didn't, just so I wouldn't do this.

Not that it would have stopped him.

He stands back and stares at my black and white polka dot bra and panties. “That’s so sexy. Did you wear that just for me?”

“I was gonna wear something ugly, so I would be too embarrassed to let you see.”

He strips off my bra, pushes me on his bed, and kisses my stomach. “You didn’t want to do this?”

Riley pounds on the door.

“Text him,” Dawson says, unzipping his pants. “We’re gonna need a minute.”

I try to text Riley. But what am I supposed to say? That he’s giving me a tour of his room?

Me:  Busy. Stall, please.

I drop my phone to the floor as Dawson kisses me.

Riley bangs on the door a few minutes later as I’m putting my dress back on. “Time to party!” he yells.

“I was wrong,” Dawson says. “No way that was a mistake.”

“Maybe it was one of those good mistakes. Like when you pay for a single dip cone, but you get a double.”

“I think you are going to have a good-mistake-laden weekend.”

“Do you think this is skanky of me? Doing it with you when I’m seeing you both?”

He tilts his head at me. “We don't have to if you don't want to. I'm sorry I unzipped your dress.”

“You don’t look very sorry.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I’m not really.”

“Dawson, you know how you asked me to wear your jersey for the game on Friday?”

“Yeah.”

“You told me it was for seniors only. It’s for varsity starters.”

“Yeah, I know. I got it confused with Senior night. It’s coming up too.”

“Aiden asked me to the banquet. I told him yes.”

“So you’re wearing my shirt, escorting me onto the field, but you’re going to the banquet afterwards with him?”

“Yeah.”

“You can’t. That’s not the tradition.”

“You got the tradition wrong and you’ve been to the banquet for the last three years. I’m new. How would I know what the tradition is?”

He squints his eyes at me. I can tell he wants to argue, but if he does, he knows he’ll sound like a liar.

Instead, he says, “Whatever.”

Does he make you hot?

1am

We have fun celebrating Riley’s birthday. We start with dinner at a sports bar he loves, where he gets his photo taken with the scantily clad waitresses. Then we have a very competitive bowling tournament, which the birthday boy wins. Then back to their house for cake and ice cream. It’s really fun and not at all what I expected. Apparently, he’s been having the same party since he was twelve.

I’m lying in Dawson’s bed, having just finished my second mistake of the day.

“I was talking to my dad about love last night. He says that love isn’t always an instant thing. That sometimes it grows. He says that trust is the most important thing. I trust you probably more than anyone else. And seriously, Keatie, I can't imagine it being better than this. Can you?”

“I don't know. I think it probably feels pretty good with everyone. Just different.”

He runs a finger across my stomach. “Pretty good, yes. Amazing, no. But we have all night. I’m going to have to prove it to you.”

“How are you going to do that?”

Dawson runs his tongue slowly across my collarbone. "Maybe I should torture you with my tongue."

I laugh. "Riley threatened to do that the first time we hung out."

“Well, ya know, us Johnson boys, we got it going on.”

He runs his tongue down my side. It tickles. I pull away slightly, but he does it again, slower. It tickles even more and makes me really horny.

He looks up lazily at me. Rolls on top of me. I can feel that bigness against my skin. Usually as soon as he's hard again, he'd be in me, so I’m surprised when he continues with his tongue.

Up the middle of my stomach, up my neck, under my chin, and to my lips. I have my hips raised up to him. I even reach for it.

He goes, “Un uh, not yet. I want you crazy for me.”

And I do about go crazy while he tortures me with his tongue. And now I know why it’s torture. He's using his tongue everywhere but where I want it to be. Mostly, he’s been running it down my stomach, up the insides of my thighs, and just when I'm thinking, finally, he stops and kisses up my sides again.

I let out a sad little sigh.

He grins at me. Continues.

“Dawes, oh my god, please.”

He barely gets his fingers inside me, and I'm moaning, apparently a little too loudly because he tosses a pillow on top of my head. I grab it and moan into it. I've never been loud like this before. Honestly, it’s never felt like this before.

“Oh, that felt so good,” I say breathlessly as he pulls the pillow off my face, kisses me deeply, and pulls my legs around his waist.

And then I need the pillow again.

The bed is creaking. He's tightly holding my hips and slamming into me. Like, way harder than he ever has before, and oh my god.

And when I say oh my god, it is literally a prayer of thanks.

But then just when I think he's going to finish, he slows way down, and then pretty much stops.

"What's wrong? I ask.

He leans down and whispers, “I don't want to be done yet."

"Can you do that?"

"I just did. Roll over,” he tells me.

I hesitate. I've never rolled over before.

But I do, a little nervously. He pulls me up unto my hands and knees, and then he's back at it. I have a brief flash of self-consciousness, wondering if there could be some cellulite on my ass that I never noticed. But when he grabs my hips and continues the fast frenzy, I could care less about cellulite.

It feels so good that I have to put my face into the pillow again.

Finally he does that thing where he stops, holds his breath, and I know I'm not supposed to move. Then he starts to collapse on top of me, grabs my waist, and pulls us both over on our sides. He moves my messed up hair off my neck and places little kisses down the side of it.

I laugh. "That was . . . I want to say amazing, but . . . it was better than that."

"Was it orgasmic?” he says with a laugh.

I breathe in, then breathe out a deep contented sigh. “Actually, I think it was. I’ve always enjoyed it a lot. But, um, never like that."

“Really? I’ve never made you before?”

“Have I ever sounded like that before?”

“Actually, no. That was hot. I thought you needed a little extra wooing."

"I thought we decided sex wasn't part of the wooing process."

“Yeah, you're right. Open the drawer on my nightstand."

I lean over, open it, and see a little present.

I get a grin on my face. "What's this?"

He grins back. "Open it and see."

I take the lid off the box. Inside is a pale pink seashell. “Is this the shell we found that day at the Hamptons?”

"Yeah, I kept it, but it kinda smelled, so there's this lady that cleans them, polishes them, and then paints the gold around the edges."

"It’s beautiful."

"I heard Braxton invite you to the beach this summer. I hope you decide to come.”

I don't know what is wrong with me, but tears start leaking out of my eyes.

"What's wrong? If you tell me you feel guilty, I might start crying."

I laugh as I wipe away the tears. “It’s an emotional roller coaster."

“I’m sure you being here all weekend is killing him."

“Maybe.”

“I think he's going to ask you out when we get back. I think you should say yes.”