Page 114 of Icing Hearts

To be fair, Jack and I started planning this party immediately after prom. It wasn’t terribly easy because Clara has been with one or both of us almost nonstop since prom night.

Everywhere you look, there are flowers. Flower crowns. Flower petals blanketing the back lawn of my house. A Ranunculus flower wall as a photo backdrop.

We got all her favorite foods catered. There’s a professional photographer, caricature artist, photo booth, lawn games, and a dance floor, which is currently where we’re stationed. As we have been for about forty-five minutes. Good thing my conditioning is on-point. I truly don’t believe anyone else could keep up with Clara on the dance floor, although she and Jack spun around for a while, so I had a break.

Sweat plasters Clara’s hair and the petals of her flower crown to her forehead.

“I’m so hot,” she says. “I think I need a break.”

“How about we cool off in the pool?” I wag my brows at her.

“I don’t have a bathing suit.”

“Well,” I say, stripping off my shirt. “I’m going in my underwear.” I take her hand and lead her toward the pool, already teeming with people. “You can wear whatever you want.”

“Wearing all my clothes worked out for me once before.” She smiles.

I kick off my shoes and drop my pants. Clara is already barefoot and tosses her crown to the grass. She takes my hand.

“Running jump?” I ask.

She nods and we take off, flying into the pool with a splash.

After a bunch of chicken fights and Marco Polo, Clara and I grab towels and make our way up to my room to change. She doesn’t care that her makeup washed off or that her curls are gone. And she’s beautiful.

Clara giggles as I pull her in close by the waist, cinching her against me. The way her body fits mine is anything but happenstance. We were made for one another. I’ve never been more certain of anything.

“Let’s go upstairs,” I whisper in her ear.

She nods.

Chapter 71

Clara

I’m nervous climbing the stairs to Tory’s room. This is the first time we’ve been alone since the car ride. The party is a most welcome and wonderful surprise, but I need to get this news off my chest.

We kiss all the way to his bathroom, and I reach into the shower to turn on the water. Extra hot. Tory makes a spinning motion with his finger, and I turn. A shiver runs down my spine as he slowly unzips my dress.

I shouldn’t have had sex with Vince. I wasn’t ready. I’m still not. There are many more steps on my healing journey, and I don’t want to take that step with Tory until I’ve worked through my trauma. Truly, I believe that sex with Tory will be so beautiful and wonderful that it could become a bandage, masking wounds that aren’t fully healed. The last thing I want is for some hurt to rear its ugly head down the road because I didn’t properly process it now.

But we kiss a lot. And take a lot of showers together. And sometimes we do a little more than that. This is one of those times.

But after, it’s time to come clean.

I change into clothes that have found a home in one of Tory’s drawers, and I make him put a shirt on when he tries to walk out with only shorts. No more distractions.

“Tory, we need to talk.” I sit cross-legged on his bed and pat the space in front of me.

He blinks a few times and slowly sinks to the edge of the bed, broad legs stretching to the carpet. “Those are the five worst words I’ve ever heard. You know people say that when they break up with someone, don’t you?”

“I didn’t mean it like that. But we do need to talk about something.” I take a deep breath. “So, we agreed. No more secrets.”

“Correct.” His eyes are wide, and he looks absolutely terrified.

“Relax,” I tell him. “It’s going to be fine.”

“I think I’ll be the judge of that.”

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