Page 38 of Blue Moon Love

“No.”

“Not Delilah?”

“No.”

“Taylor?”

“No.”

“Kelsi?”

“No.”

“Your mom?”

We could be here all night.

“No. One.” I emphasized both words.

He stared at me for a few beats before asking, “Why not?”

I couldn’t tell him the true reason. If I told any of them, they would have thought that I was saving myself for him. Everyone in my life thought I had feelings for Sam. Which I did. But I’d never admitted them to anyone. I’d barely admitted them to myself.

“I don’t know,” I lied.

“So, you haven’t had sex, but you’ve done other stuff, right?”

“Why are you…you can’t ask me that.”

“Yes, I can.”

“No, you can’t.”

“I tell you everything about my sex life.”

“I know.” He did. And every detail made me feel sick to my stomach. “But I never ask you.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No. I don’t.”

He was quiet, and I was sure he was trying to remember a time I’d asked him for any details about his sex life. I hadn’t. I learned my lesson not to ask Sam questions that I didn’t want to know the truthful answer to. He just volunteered information.

“Okay, so what have you done?”

In frustration, I snapped, “Why do you care?”

“Because this is important.”

“Why is it important?”

“If you can’t even talk about it, how do you think you're going to do it?”

Crap. I hadn’t thought about that. He was right. But then again, if anyone was an expert on sex, it was Sam Whitlock.

“It’s not a big deal; just tell me what you’ve done.” He was talking to me the same way he talked to Winnie when he came with me to rescue her from the animal shelter in Parrish Creek. It was his soothing tone. His you-don’t-have-anything-to-worry-about tone. His you’re-in-a-safe-space tone.

The problem was that tone had always turned me on. I felt my cheeks heat, and I hoped that the tiny light that was coming through the window from the moon was not enough for him to see me blushing.

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