Page 76 of Don't Puck the Wrong Brother

"Jumped his bones?" Lennox supplies helpfully.

"No! Well…kind of?" I fall backward onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. "I kissed him. I didn't plan to, I just…couldn't not kiss him anymore."

"And then?"

"And then things got…intense."

"I'll say." Lennox nods toward my disheveled bedspread, the books scattered on the floor. "Good thing I showed up when I did, or you might have broken your bed. Those twin frames aren't built for the kind of statistics you two were studying."

I throw the pillow at her, which she dodges easily, laughing. "You have the worst timing in the world, you know that?"

"Or the best, depending on how you look at it." She throws the pillow back at me. "Were you ready for that? To go all the way with him?"

The question makes me pause. Was I ready? Everything had happened so fast, a blur of sensation and need. One minute we were talking, the next I was half-naked beneath him, wanting more, wanting everything.

"I don't know," I admit. "In the moment, absolutely. But maybe it's good we got interrupted. Things were moving fast."

"Fast is fine if it's what you want," Lennox says, her tone turning more serious. "Just making sure you're not going to regret it tomorrow."

"The only thing I regret is that we got interrupted," I say honestly. "Being with him feels…right. In a way I didn't expect."

"I knew it," Lennox says triumphantly. "From the moment you told me about the drive-in date—"

"Extended social interaction," I correct automatically, then laugh at myself. "God, I was so adamant about not calling them dates."

"Because you knew exactly where it was heading." She points her fork at me. "Your body knew before your brain did. Classic."

"Nothing about this is classic."

"I guess not."

I laugh, the tension of the past few days finally easing from my shoulders. It feels good—more than good—to be laughing with my best friend, to be feeling hopeful instead of anxious for the first time in what feels like forever.

"So," Lennox says, passing me a fortune cookie. "Are you and hockey boy officially a thing?"

I break open the cookie, pulling out the slip of paper inside. "'A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.' How appropriate."

"Stop avoiding the question," Lennox prods.

"We're…figuring it out," I say, the words feeling insufficient to describe whatever is happening between Sanderson and me. "Taking it slow. Or at least, that's what we agreed before we nearly tore each other's clothes off."

"Slow is overrated," Lennox declares. "But I'm happy for you." She reaches across to squeeze my hand. "And if anyone gives you shit about dating brothers—including Cade—they'll have to deal with me."

"Thank you," I say, blinking back the sudden moisture in my eyes. "For being supportive. For not judging."

"Please," she scoffs, but her smile is genuine. "Who am I to judge anyone's love life? Last year I made out with twins at the same party."

"You did not!"

"I absolutely did. Different times of night, but still. Not my finest moment." She gathers the empty takeout containers, stacking them neatly. "But enough about my questionable choices. Are you two going public with this, or keeping it on the down-low for now?"

I consider the question. "Down-low, definitely. At least until we figure out what this is. And Cade already knows, which complicates things."

"The whole campus knows you were involved in their fight," Lennox points out. "But I get it. Privacy first."

She glances at her watch and sighs. "I should go. I promised to video chat with my mom tonight."

"Thanks for dinner," I say, walking her to the door. "And for…not freaking out about Sanderson."

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