Page 1 of Until We Meet Again

Chapter 1

Tessa

I'm exactly where I want to be—at home, avoiding people. I'm cozied up in my pink reading chair, losing myself in a story about a girl who falls in love with her brother's best friend—a trope I adore. Honestly, any book that allows me to escape into my own little world of passion and desire is my kind of thing. Give me all the angst!

Nothing—literally nothing in life—makes me happier than reading about a man whose love for his girl is so all-consuming that he would willingly set the world on fire to keep her by his side. However, because of these fictional men, my list of book boyfriends grows longer by the day. As do my unrealistic expectations.

If I start dating a guy who can't match their energy, I'm out. I refuse to settle for anything less than extraordinary.

This is the perfect night—when I can completely lose myself in a book without any distractions, and it's just me wrapped in a blanket with nothing but the glittering stars and a mugof coffee for company. But just as I'm immersing myself in a moment of calm, obsessing over my current book boyfriend, Jaxon Wakefield, the sudden buzz of my phone brings me back to the real world.

I glance at the screen and see my roommate Jen's name flashing. When I answer the call, she lets out a long breath, and I already know something is wrong. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Thank God. I need to talk to you."

"Are you in the bathroom? You sound like you have an echo."

"I'm hiding from Harry."

"Why?"

"Because I think I'm about to have sex with him." I jump in my chair, almost spilling coffee on my blanket.

"What?"

"One minute, he was dry humping the shit out of me, and the next, I was telling him I was ready."

"Do you feel ready?"

"I'm not sure. I think I am… No, I know I am, and he's been so patient with me."

"As long as it's what you want, that's all that matters."

"Oh my god, what if I'm terrible at it?"

"I promise you'll be fine, and Harry will take care of you. You know that."

"You're right. I can't believe I'm about to have sex." I listen closely to her voice to make sure she has no doubts, but all I hear is her nervous excitement.

"Well, I'm very happy for you, and I can't wait to hear all about it."

"Girls' night tomorrow, okay? I'll tell you everything."

"Can't wait. Now go and have fun."

"I will. I love you."

"I love you more."

After the call ends, I sink back in my chair, attempting to bury myself in the chapter I was reading, but my mind keeps drifting away from the words on the page. The conversation with Jen keeps playing over and over in my head, stirring up several feelings that I try unsuccessfully to push aside.

A part of me feels envious of Jen. Although I'm happy for her, it has me reflecting on my own choices.

I'm twenty-two, and I've never been touched by a guy. I'm not out here rocking a chastity belt or passing judgment on anyone having sex. I crave it too. I'm aching to experience the feeling of being completely consumed by another person.

But unlike most people I know, I'm not into partying every weekend or casual hookups. The idea of getting wasted and ending up with some random guy's cock for company is not forme.

I'd much rather immerse myself in a book or watch Anthony Bridgerton on Netflix and fantasize about swapping lives with Kate Sharma.

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