Page 106 of Practice Makes Perfect
My heart hammers against my ribs. “Are you sure? We don’t have to rush anything…”
“Linc.” She places her hands on either side of my face, looking me straight in the eyes. “I appreciate you being considerate, but I’m ready.”
Those two words send a surge of heat through my entire body. I’ve been careful not to push and to let her set the pace. Even after the party, when we admitted our feelings for each other, I knew we still had to take things slow. But now she’s firing the starter’s gun, I can barely contain myself.
“We can reheat the leftovers later…” I laugh. “And eat the flan for breakfast.”
She bites her lip again. “Take me to your room, Linc.”
I don’t need to be told twice. I take her hand, leaving the dishes and the candles and the carefully planned dinner behind. All that matters now is her—this brilliant, funny, gorgeous girl who somehow wants me just as much as I want her.
As we walk down the hallway, I feel a curious mix of excitement and nervousness. This isn’t my first time, not by a long shot, but it feels like it. Because with Em, everything feels different. Everything feels new and important and wonderful.
I pause outside my bedroom door, turning to face her one more time. “You’re sure about this?”
Her answer is to pull me down for another kiss, her body soft and warm against mine. “I’ve never been more sure of anything,” she whispers.
twenty-six
EM
The doorwayto Linc’s bedroom feels like a portal to another dimension—one where I’m not the scared girl who ran away from a boy at a party five years ago. One where I’m just Amélie Dubois, a woman who wants to have sex with her incredibly hot boyfriend.
Wait.
Boyfriend?
Is that what we are now?
Just like my brain to choose the literal threshold of my first consensual sexual experience to have an existential relationship crisis. Classic timing. We’ve had the “I like you and want to date you” conversation, but nobody specifically said “boyfriend” or “girlfriend,” and?—
“Em?” Linc’s voice breaks through my mental spiral. His hand, warm and steady, cups my cheek. “You still with me?”
I blink rapidly, forcing myself back to the present moment. “Yes! Sorry! Just… thinking.”
“What about?” His thumb traces my lower lip, sending shivers racing down my spine.
“About how glad I am that my grandma told me to trust you and be honest.” It’s not exactly what I was thinking, but it’strue nonetheless. If not for her, I might have walked away from something that could be amazing out of fear of getting hurt.
Linc’s eyebrows shoot up, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Should I start worrying that your grandma might pop up while we do this?”
I burst out laughing, tension evaporating from my shoulders. “God, I hope not. Though she’d probably offer pointers. She’s… unconventional.”
“I’ve gathered that.” His smile is soft, eyes crinkling at the corners as he studies me. “But I’m glad she gave you good advice.”
The laughter helps ground me, reminding me that this is Linc—the guy who’s spent weeks teaching me how to be comfortable with intimacy, who’s never pushed, who’s always made sure I felt safe.
“I’m nervous,” I admit, my hands fidgeting with the hem of my dress. “But not scared. Just… it’s a big deal for me.”
“I know.” Linc’s voice is low, serious. “We can take all the time you need. Or we can stop if?—”
“No.” I press my finger against his lips. “I want this. I want you. I’ve been dreaming about this moment since…” I trail off, feeling heat rise to my cheeks.
His eyes darken. “How long?”
“Statistics class. Last semester.” My confession comes out in a rush. “You were wearing that maroon henley with the sleeves pushed up, and… you know when cartoons have those scenes where someone looks at a turkey and suddenly it transforms into this juicy roasted dinner with, like, little cartoon lines of deliciousness wafting off it? That’s what happened. Except you were theturkey. Wait—that came out wrong.”
Linc’s shoulders shake with suppressed laughter. “I was the…turkey?”
