Chapter 7 (Hannah's POV):

It was my choice not to confide in you- especially about all of the crap that people were saying about me. I- I didn't want you to think less of me.

I don't- I couldn't. I- I- loved you back then. And- I love you now.

You're words- they're perfect. Just like the song from our first slow dance.

I feel like I'm dreaming. Your declaration- it's even bigger, more revealing, than you telling me you wanted to be more than friends at Jessica's party, when you said our first kisses were the most amazing of your entire life. And that one practically floored me.

You've taken my breath away. I don't have words, or the voice, to express how you've just made me feel.

So I show you instead. I lean forward and kiss you. And I kiss you with a hunger, a need, that I've never felt before. A need to be closer to you.

I pull our faces closer with one hand as we kiss, noses touching, mouths open, tongues dancing, my hand winding its way up the nape of your neck to your hair, where I run my fingers through it as my nails lightly scratch your scalp.

I pull our upper bodies closer with the other hand, curving it down your back as I pull you into me, our chests flush against one another, my breasts squished against your torso.

I pull our pelvises closer with my leg, which I hitch around your hip, the heat between my legs spreading like wildfire as soon as I press up against you.

And yet, we're not close enough. There's too much space between us. Too many clothes. I slip one of my hands up the back of your shirt, feeling your skin.

My passion and enthusiasm unhinges you a little bit, I think. Your kisses become a little distracted, and after a few moments you pull away altogether.

"Hannah?" you ask me, clearly anxious.

I look at you, waiting.

"You- trust me now, right?"

I look at you seriously, right in your eyes. It's true, I didn't used to trust you- I don't think I really trusted anyone- but I trust you now. In the last few weeks, you've earned it. I nod.

"So you know I'd never, ever, hurt you on purpose, right?"

I nod again. You're so sweet. "Yeah, I know," I whisper.

"Okay, so- just keep letting me know what you want and what you don't, okay? I don't want to do anything wrong." You look a little terrified.

I can't blame you, really, after my reaction last time. Still, we're in a completely different place than we were at Jessica's party. Even though it was just a couple of weeks ago, we're so much more comfortable together now. But more importantly, you've shown me that you want to be with me. And that you're no worse off, I'm not ruining you like I feared. In fact, you've never seemed happier.

Well, except for your momentary nervousness. But I want nothing more than to put you at ease. Well, and to make you the happiest guy ever. I kiss you before saying reassuringly, "You won't. Just relax. I'll let you know."

That seems to help. You look relieved and kiss me again.

Things seem to progress similarly to when we made out the first time, only now I'm not freaked out. We've kissed before- a lot. I'm used to the feel of your mouth, your hands, on me. The only associations I feel are positive ones from the last couple of weeks.

Yet this feels decidedly different- it's more romantic, being outside on a clear, cool, night, high up in the hills, looking out over our town. And because you just told me you love me, and I believe you. And because I want to show you that I love you too, even if it's hard for me to say.

We roll over slightly so that you're half on top of me. You kiss my neck, but this time, all I can think about is how good it feels. And that we're not close enough. I pull off your shirt, tossing it to the side. Your expression of surprise is awesome. Since it's getting chilly, you reach around to either side of you to pick up spare pieces of blanket to wrap around us.

You make no moves to remove any of the remaining layers between us, because our previous make-out sessions have been pretty- restrained, with our clothes always staying put. But I'm dying to kiss with all of our skin touching. So I take off my shirt, unhook my bra, and pull that off too. We don't have a lot of light, but the moon is bright. When I look back at you, you're staring at me, mouth agape.

You stare for a while, unable to form words, it seems. "Can- can I touch you?" you finally ask hoarsely, desperation in your voice. "I'll be gentle, I promise." You're almost pleading with me. I nod.

You reach down and tenderly cup one of my breasts in your hand, your thumb softly circling the areola. That light, foreign touch on such a sensitive area- it feels so good. I gasp out loud. When I look at your face again, you look bug-eyed; you're still staring down at my chest, awed, fascinated.

You spend a little more time exploring my chest with your hand, but it's cold, so after a couple of minutes I pull you towards me for another kiss. Your bare chest against mine- it feels amazing.

But we're not close enough.

You move to kiss my neck, and I take a deep breath, considering carefully what I want, and what I'm going to tell you I want. I'm still thinking about it when you begin to move your mouth downward, kissing towards the center of my chest. Your breath comes out in a rush. "Can I kiss you?" You're practically begging me. You're not specific in your request, but I know exactly what you're asking.

Well, who am I to protest? If your mouth feels half as good as your fingertips… I nod again, not trusting my voice.

Oh. My. God. As soon as your hot mouth engulfs my right breast I gasp again, feeling a jolt of heat right between my legs so intense that it's almost painful. You don't know my breast very well yet, but you get an A for effort as you explore every inch of it with your tongue and lips. When you get to this one area of my nipple, I actually cry out loud. Finally getting the reaction you must have been hoping for, you stay where you are and pick up the speed and intensity of your stimulation, unrelenting, while I whimper and jerk and flail and my insides turn to jelly. Holy shit.

You learn from my right breast exactly how to approach the left one.

By the time you're finished kissing and touching my entire chest, I know precisely what I want. You don't need to do any more to turn me on. Closer.

I pull you up to me so that we're hugging. Saying it is going to be the hard part, I think.

I clear my throat, deciding to go for broke. "So, um, do you have anything else in your bag for tonight?" I try to frame the question innocently, but it's not really possible.

Your eyes look like they're about to pop out of your head. But then you flush- deeply- and you avoid my eyes. I think I have my answer.

"Yes," you say, your voice barely audible above the breeze that's picked up. "But- um-,"

I can tell you're about to say you're sorry, again, for being a boy and hoping to have sex with your girlfriend while actually being responsible and purchasing protection so that there aren't any additional unintended consequences. But it's really not necessary, as I know you're hoping, not expecting, which for me makes all the difference.

I cover your mouth with my pointer finger, halting your words. "Shhhhh," I say. "There's no need to apologize, or explain."

You look at me questioningly. You clearly have no idea why I brought it up, whether or not I'm mad. I need to clarify, obviously. I'm feeling a little shy, so I angle away from you a bit and whisper into the shadows. "I want to use it," I say.

You don't move for so long I feel it necessary to repeat myself. "Go get it, I want to use it."

It takes you a second to register what I'm saying- but when you do, you practically leap over to your knapsack, rummaging around in one of the pockets until you procure the little foil packet. After retrieving it, you come back to me, wrapping us in the blankets again. You look at me seriously. "Are you sure?" You need confirmation.

I nod. "Yes," I say.

You're quick to reply. "Hannah, I didn't bring these expecting-,"

I silence you with a kiss. "I know. It's my choice. I'm ready." I start to pull down my pants.

You're eager. You jump into action, it seems, stripping off your pants, and then your boxers. But because it's gotten cold, and we're still entangled in the blanket, I don't see much. I reach over to intimately touch you, mostly because I'm curious as hell, but you jerk away.

"Sorry," you apologize as you wrap your fingers around my wrist, "but that's not a good idea right now."

I don't ask you why not. I think I can take a wild guess.

You have trouble with the condom. You're inexperienced, the moonlight is dim, relatively speaking, and your hands are shaking. I try to ease the tension.

"You didn't buy that from my parents' drugstore, did you?" I kid.

You crack a smile, but it's forced. Maybe joking around wasn't such a good idea.

Eventually, you're able to get it on. We shift our positions a bit, I finish pulling off my underwear under the blanket, and then you lean close and kiss me. "Are you still sure?" You whisper in my ear.

I nod. You touch your lips to mine. "I love you," you say again.

"Just- go slow," I say.

You nod. After a few moments, I start to feel some pressure, stretching, then a little more, and then a little more. Involuntarily, I gasp a little. You're looking into my eyes, trying to gauge my reaction. "Are you okay?" you ask, concerned.

I nod. "Just- slow," I reiterate.

A little more pressure, a little more. Slowly. The pressure hurts, but you're being as gentle as you can. The pain is offset somewhat by the nearness of your body to mine. You rest on your elbows so I'm not uncomfortable, but we're finally as close as I was hoping we would get.

This continues for a minute or two as we both slowly adjust to you being inside of me. It's intimate- you're looking into my eyes and I'm looking back into yours. You kiss my face and lips ever-so-gently. Eventually, the pressure becomes less painful as my body acclimates. I give you a slight nod, permission to go ahead.

You begin to move, rhythmically, and for someone who said they're not into sports, and who has never done this before, you're pretty coordinated- though I should have known, from the way you danced. You're slow at first. You keep asking me if I'm okay, gun-shy, and I keep nodding. The physical feeling is- foreign, strange, but the pain is beginning to subside, and emotionally the closeness is pretty fucking amazing.

You start to pick up the pace. I grit my teeth since the pain hasn't gone away, but it's kind of a good kind of pain.

You don't last long. I won't hold it against you. Watching you get off, seeing this expression on your face where you're completely out of control, it's the best kind of power trip. I feel a measure of self-satisfaction, even though I really didn't do much. You collapse on top of me, and I can feel your heartbeat as though it were my own. Your skin is hot against mine. I'm plenty warm now.

It isn't until we're done, with you lying on top of me, nuzzling my cheek with your nose, that I finally see a shooting star. I don't know if it counts as a real one or not, but I decide to make a wish anyway.

Except for some crazy reason I can't think of one. And I can't explain it. But lying there naked under the stars with you, I feel at peace. Safe. Wanted. Happy. Loved.