Page 65 of The Comeback Summer

“Who?” He sounds pissed.

“Just a guy. No one important.”

His name was Mitch and he was a fellow runner. We went out for two months before we had sex, and he did his best to make it good for me—really gave it the old college try—but everything felt so awkward, so foreign. I kept thinking about how I didn’t really know him, and wondering if he was bored or annoyed, and eventually I told him I was fine, he could just finish up. The relationship fizzled soon after that.

“Asshole,” Josh mutters.

“He wasn’t, though. He was actually pretty nice.”

I step into the spray again, rinsing the conditioner out of my hair, and Josh’s hands fall away. I’m embarrassed talking about this, about my failure to have any other romantic relationship after him.

But then Josh wraps his hand around my arm and spinsme. Now we’re facing off in the shower, inches apart, steam billowing around us. He’s looking down at me, water droplets caught on his dark lashes, a fierce urgency in his eyes.

“You deserve better than that,” he says. “Better than some ‘pretty nice’ guy who doesn’t spend the time to make you fall apart and beg for more.”

Warmth pools between my thighs; Josh was always so patient, so focused on my experience, and I didn’t realize, back then, how rare that was. If I tensed up or got frustrated with myself, he would say things like,We’re not in a hurry. There’s nothing I’d rather be doing. I love making you feel good.And then I could relax and let myself fall, knowing that Josh would catch me.

I want that, I do. But the thought of trusting him again? Terrifying.

His eyes—so dark, almost navy blue in the dim light—flick between my mouth and my eyes, like he can’t decide what to focus on. “I know I don’t deserve another chance. But I’m asking for one anyway. Hannah, please. Let me prove I can be what you deserve.”

I’m alight with different feelings—my heart is aching, wanting him to pull me into a hug and hold me. But my body is on fire with lust, wanting him to push me against the wall and spread my legs and take me.

“Don’t decide right now,” he continues. “Take some time to think about it. I care too much about you to have a quickie and then go our separate ways tonight.”

I blink up at him, startled. “Wait. We’re naked in the shower together and you’re telling me that youdon’twant to have sex with me?”

He gives a pained laugh and glances down at himself. “Iwant to. Obviously. But I don’t want to steamroll you; you should decide whatyouwant. If we’re going to do this, I want us both to be all in. Understand?”

“Yes. But—” I take a shaky breath. “But don’t make me walk out of here with nothing but words, Josh. Give me something to think about.”

His eyes spark with desire. “That,” he says, “I can do.”

He captures my mouth like he’s been craving this, like I’m the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. A groan rumbles between us—from me or him or both of us, I have no idea—and memories crash over me in waves. The thousands of kisses we’ve shared, the familiar rhythm and slide of lips and tongues and mingled breaths. It’s a miracle. A blessed relief. Like climbing into your own bed after a journey away from home; like that first day of spring after a cold, dark winter. Josh’s soft, warm kisses alternate with deep, desperate strokes, and then he’s teasing me, his teeth nipping against my bottom lip.

I’m so lost in this kiss that I hardly notice his hands moving, running down my back. I wait for them to slide lower, but he stops at my waist. His thumb traces the old scar from my appendix, like he’s remembering how it brought us together. Then he runs his hands to my shoulders, down the sides of my ribs, skirting the edges of my breasts but not wrapping around to cup them. We make a perfect A shape here in this shower—mouths touching, hands reaching, but the rest of our bodies separated, like we know if we get any closer, we won’t be able to stop.

It’s agonizing, being touched like this, his hands all over me but not going where I want them. I know why he’s holding back.If we’re going to do this, I want us both to be all in.And that’s smart, that’s the right thing to do, but my decision-makingskills are fuzzy right now. Especially as I kiss his lush, warm mouth and run my hands across his shoulders, appreciating the bulk of his deltoids and biceps, trailing my hands down his back, dipping my fingers into the gulley of his spine, then lower, lower—

There’s a knock and we jump apart.

“Laundry service!” a muffled voice calls.

Josh pulls away, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Just a moment,” he shouts.

He gives me one last kiss, then steps past me, wrapping a towel around himself as he heads out to get our clothes.

•••

JOSH DRESSES INthe bedroom, and I get ready in the bathroom. My mind is buzzing, frenetic. I can’t believe how close I came to begging him. Now that my adrenaline-fueled lust has faded, I’m glad I didn’t. He’s right; I need to think about this. Just because I want his body doesn’t mean I should jump into a relationship with him. He said he wants us to be “all in,” which is all very well and good for him—but he’s not the one who was dumped and left behind. Can I trust that he won’t do that again someday? I want to, but I’m not sure I can.

When I come out of the bathroom, Josh is sitting on the bed, fully dressed, his hands on his knees. When he sees me, his eyes drift down my body and the dress I can now admit I put on because I thought he might like it.

“I’m going to lose my mind tonight, knowing you’re out with someone else,” he says.

“Me? You’re doing the same thing.”

He shakes his head. “Want to see my date?” He pulls up something on his phone—the Shedd Aquarium’s board ofdirectors—and points to a picture of an older woman with silver hair and a bright smile. “This is Elaine. Her husband passed away a few months ago. I asked her to come with me so neither of us had to show up alone. If I’d thought you would’ve come with me, I would’ve asked you in a heartbeat.”

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