“Oh,” I say, sucking in my lip hard, not sure what to say next.

“It got better. And we’re careful, and we…we’re, I don’t know, active? Boy, that sounds really fucking clinical, doesn’t it? We do it, sometimes? And I’m glad it was Jess, that he was my first,” she says, her lips curving into a smile when we see him standing at the curb, waiting for her to pull in. “But you don’t have to, you know?”

“But there have been so many. Haven’t there? I mean, Owen and girls…” I say as she puts the car in park.

“Probably. But, really, what do I know? Maybe he just makes out and kisses, and that’s it,” she says, pausing in the quiet of her car for a few seconds before we both break into hysterical laughter. “Yeah, probably not!”

We both laugh hard while we gather our things, but my laughter dies down quickly, my thoughts going right back to that kiss, how it felt, and how different a boy like Owen is from the safety of group dates and school functions I was used to before.

I trail behind Willow and Jess along the walkway, and am about to step into the band room, when I notice someone sitting on the tables nearby. Owen’s hands are wrapped around a paper cup steaming with coffee, his fingers poking through black cut-off gloves; a beanie is pulled over his dark hair.

“Kinda early today, aren’t you?” I ask, my fingers instinctively moving to my hair, tucking it behind my ear—a nervous tick in his company, and my face is blushing at the sight of him. He looks up, his lips puckered while he blows over the top of the hot liquid in his cup, the steam making small swirls in front of his lips. The way they slide so naturally into a smile erases every tiny worry I let in during my car ride with Willow. The way his face lights up when he sees me—when he sees me—that’s enough.

Right now, the way he looks right now, is enough.

“It was weird, I had these awful stomach pains, like someone…poisoned me,” he teases, his eyebrows lowered while he stares at me, his legs stretching out slowly as he stands.

“Damn. You’re on to us. My mother and I are black widows, with a trail of high school boys and men buried in yards all over Illinois,” I say, finishing my last word just before Owen’s arm sweeps me into his chest, the softness of his coat backed by the hardness of his body, every single inch of him warm.

“Kens, trust me, you buried me a long time ago,” he says, his lips kissing the top of my head, his arm holding me tight to him. This is where I want to be for the rest of the morning. And I am his just a little more.

“I have to go to band,” I groan, and he squeezes one last time before letting me go, the cool air wrapping around me the second his arm leaves my body. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s cool. I figured I’d just come early, see if I could see you,” he says, and his cheeks—they actually blush. “I had to drop Andrew off early. He’s doing this robotics thing.”

“Oh,” I say, my smile caught in my teeth, my tummy fluttering. “Will I be seeing you in class today, Mr. Harper?”

“Yes, Miss Worth. I will be attending class this week. In fact, I should be here every day, from now on,” he says. “Sort of quit the job that tried to arrest me for paying for something,” he says, his eyes gliding down my body, to my wrist, where my gift still circles my arm. I haven’t taken it off since he gave it to me, even when my mom raised an eyebrow when I told her it was a gift from Owen.

“Is that going to mess things up for you? I mean, you said you needed the money,” I say, worried about him.

“Yeah, we do,” he says through a deep breath, cupping the back of my head and kissing my forehead before he begins to slide away from me. “But my mom’s taking a break from school, so she’s picking up a second job. I don’t like it, but she wants me to focus on the rest of my year.”

I’m hanging on the open door, Willow just out of view, watching my every move from inside, ready to make fun of me the second I close the door. “So I’ll see you in a couple hours,” I say, my fingers, my lips, my toes—every part of me tingling just watching Owen’s eyes rake over me. His lip quirks on the side, the small dimple, the one I used to think seemed so arrogant, punctuating everything about him that makes me weak. Then he blows me a kiss before pulling his ear buds from his pocket and tucking them into ears and going back to his coffee.

“You…are in trouble, missy,” Willow says, her head shaking at me, not quite in disapproval, as I close the door and move to my instrument.