Page 54 of Lotus

“You know I’ve been waiting all night to get the scoop on your make-out sesh. Time to spill, Syd.”

Her penciled-in eyebrows waggle at me, causing me to inch down in my chair. “Nice redirection.”

Clem clicks her tongue. “Details. Now, please.”

“He wanted to practice,” I mutter, chugging down my lasts few sips of sugar-infused rum. My dark nails drum against the tabletop as the memories sweep through me like a forest fire. “I obliged.”

“And you enjoyed,” she confirms, eyes narrowed and interested.

“Maybe.” I clear the catch in my throat and sit up straight. “But seriously, it’s not what you’re thinking. Oliver is a very attractive guy. You’d have to be blind and broken tonotenjoy kissing him.”

Clem’s grin is wide, her intent teasing. “Do you think he needs more practice?”

“Don’t even think about it.”

A gasp. “You’re catching feelings for him, aren’t you?”

My own gasp follows close behind. “No.”

Her lips pucker to the side, eyes even more squinted than before. She’s reading me from the inside out. “Defensive. Blushing. Fidgeting with your straw.” Clem collapses against the seatback with a breath of satisfaction. “You’ve got a crush.”

I donothave a crush.

I don’t crush. I don’t get attached. I don’tcatch feelings.

My sister knows this.

Everyone knows this.

I date around. I enjoy the occasional one-night stand. Sometimes one turns into two or three, but it never develops beyond casual sex, and I prefer it that way. I’m not void of emotions; I’m just guarded. Relationships breed heartbreak, and there is no dignity in heartbreak.

I like my dignity.

And I like Oliver Lynch far too much to break his beautiful heart.

“Earth to sissy,” Clem says, snapping her fingers in front of my face. “You’re zoning out thinking about how you’re going to steal that boy’s virginity, aren’t you?”

“Hardly,” I snort.

But now I am.

“I mean, whynotyou?” she continues, like we’re discussing who’s up for a damn job promotion at the mini-mart. “It’s not like you’re a prude. I’m sure he’d want to give his V-card to someone who has his best interest in mind.”

“I never should have told you about the kiss,” I grumble, literally despising this turn in conversation. My buzz is fading faster than my interest in Lorna Gibson’s Bible Club. “It’s not like that between Oliver and me. He’s… fucking perfect in every way, and there’s no way in hell I’m going to be the one to corrupt him.”

“Better you than some hussy whodoesn’thave his best interest in mind. You know women are going to start lining up on his front porch—they don’t make guys like Oliver.”

She’s right about that. My teeth clench in spite of myself when I think about Oliver dating random girls, or sleeping with a woman who doesn’t know him, doesn’tunderstandhim the way I do.

It’s a ridiculous, unwarranted thought that has no business poking around inside my brain.

Oliver is a grown man, becoming stronger and more confident every day. He’ll get a job, he’ll settle down, he’ll fly free like the birds he watches in fascination from his front stoop.

He’llflourish. He’ll probably change the world one day.

And I can’t hinder that.

“I’m not going to sleep with him,” I say softly but firmly, transfixed on a spot of sticky syrup glued to the wood table. “It would ruin everything we’ve rebuilt over the last few months.”

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