She wore a bandeau top, but no bra. He tugged at the stretchy fabric and it slid down, and her naked breast was in his palm, small and warm.
This is insane, he thought. This is stupid-fucked-up-crazy.
Last night, in his car, he’d wanted to be with Evie so bad it had made his stomach hurt. Not just be with her physically, like this, but to be there when she needed him. To care for her. Maybe even love her. He’d wanted to do the right thing, for once. To be brave.
And he’d thought that it would change all this. That he wouldn’t want this anymore—this melting, sliding, too-hot feeling Sunny always gave him. But instead, he wanted it worse than ever.
Maybe I can’t fall for someone new, he thought. Maybe I’m too far gone.
Maybe I don’t deserve more than this.
Well, if I don’t, he thought, then I’ll take what I’ve earned.
Sunny pulled away from him. Her face was flushed pink and dazed, and she put her hand on his bare chest. She pushed him down onto the bedspread, and he let her. She straddled his hips with her knees, ripped up cutoffs riding high on her thin legs, making him want to tear them to pieces. Damn, he thought. Her fingers worked at the fly of his jeans.
He dropped his head back, closing his eyes, arms sprawled across the duvet. His heart was beating so fast his breath couldn’t keep up, and he shivered all over.
He thought of Evie at the lake. The V of her bare legs on his lap, goose bumps across her damp skin. The way she’d held him when he dreamed. He thought of her smile, her lipstick. He thought he might die and never taste it.
Sunny got his zipper open.
He grabbed her wrist.
“Sunny,” he rasped, eyes open. She gazed down on him with a look like she was dreaming. A smile teased her lips but never fully got there. “I gotta tell you something.”
He swallowed hard, his dry throat sticking. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see her face when he said the words. “I’ve never done this before.”
She went perfectly still. He swallowed again, all his nerve fleeing through his chest and legs under her slight weight. And then she laughed.
His eyes flew open. Her head was tipped back, and her shoulders shook, and she laughed that awful cackle. A cold spike rammed through him, like she was swinging a sledgehammer.
“What’s so funny?” he snapped.
“Oh my god, Ré,” she said too loudly, shattering the mood. “You are totally joking, right?”
Anger, humiliation welled up. He pushed himself up on his elbows. “I am not fucking joking,” he said. “So I’ve never done it. What’s the big deal?”
“Oh!” She gasped with laughter, eyes huge. “I don’t believe it! You are so full of shit.”
She stings like a damn hornet too, he thought. Shoulda known. “Screw you, Sunny,” he muttered, but she only laughed harder.
“Well, that was the plan, wasn’t it?” she shrieked gleefully.
“You’re such a bitch,” he spat, pushing her off his lap. She fell to her side on the bed and shook with giggles.
He leaped up, fists clenched at his sides.
“Aw, come on, Ré,” she said in a cruel, condescending voice. “It’s okay. I just thought you were more of a man, that’s all.” She giggled again. “Hey, you’re a pretty good liar after all!”
“Picrelle,” he spat. “Trou de passage!” They were harsh, nasty, terrible words his mother would have smacked his mouth right off his head for saying to a woman, and he was half glad Sunny didn’t know their meaning.
“Seriously, though,” she said, a little sweeter now, but still smiling too much. “It’s totally cool, Ré. I’ll be your first.”
“You think I want that now?” He was twitching with rage. She said nothing, just stared up at him wide-eyed, her pretty mouth pinned shut.
“Y’know, you’re right, Sunny,” he said, shoving the blade in. “Things are different because of Evie. Because she makes me want to act like a decent human being.” He waved a dismissive hand at her. “All you ever make me feel is fucking ashamed of myself.”
She jumped up from the bed. “You son of a bitch!” she spat back, shoving a finger into his chest. “You wanted it too. Don’t act like you didn’t. If you feel bad about it now, don’t blame me! I never twisted your arm.”
He shut his mouth and just glared at her—because no matter how much he hated her right now, she was right. He’d never been helpless. He’d never actually tried to stop the hurricane.
Just then a roar like thunder rose up through the trees, so loud it rattled the windows.
They both looked toward the balcony. The roar had stopped in front of the house, and a second later there were footsteps banging up her front porch.
Réal and Sunny looked at each other, wide-eyed. They both heard the front door open.
“Hey, Sun!” Alex called. “You’ll never guess what my dad just gave me!” His feet were already bounding up the stairs two at a time.
Ré went white. “What the fuck!” he whispered.
Sunny looked around frantically. “The balcony!” she rasped, pointing. They both dove for it, getting the door open, and she shoved him outside. “Get down. I’ll keep him away.”
The tiny balcony was only big enough for a small table and a folding sun chair, offering little shelter from the street. There was a large window on either side of the door and six small panes of glass in the door itself. It was the shittiest hiding spot of all time. He might as well have stood beside her bed with a lampshade on his head.
It was dusk, almost dark now, and that gave Ré a little cover, but not enough to slow his heart. He crouched, leaning his bare shoulder against the door, below the windows, praying Alex would not come near it.
He heard Alex burst into the room, cheerful, excited, talking a mile a minute. Sunny’s voice, low and
