For my birthday, my mom takes me shopping for a prom dress. It's the first time I've ever done something like this, so it's a completely new world for me. We walk into David's Bridal and I'm instantly overcome with all the options covering almost every single inch of the store.

"Whoa," I say aloud.

I look over to Lexie, who I was allowed to bring along just because it's my birthday. She already has her dress - she bought it last weekend. It's long and black with flower detailing on the skirt; the neck is a little low for what I'd wear myself, but she makes it work.

"It seems like a lot," she says to both me and my mom. "But all you have to do is find what you like. It'll be less than you think."

We branch off in three different directions by ourselves. I lose myself in the pinks and golds, but Lexie tugs my arm away after she sees what colors I'm looking at.

"Get away from the blush," she says. "It's gonna wash you out with your red hair."

"Oh," I say, letting a long skirt drop from my fingers.

"Purple, blue and green are your friends," she says, showing me a rack specified to those colors. "They'll bring out your hair and your eyes."

"How about this one?" Mom asks, holding up a gray dress with a bolero.

I shake my head. "No, mom."

Lexie narrows her eyes and whispers, "Why is she in the mother of the bride section?"

I sigh and raise my eyebrows. "Just let her be," I say. "I'll try on whatever she gives me, but I am picking this dress myself if it's the last thing I do."

Once we've finished scouring the whole store for what I might be able to wear, Mom and Lexie sit outside the fitting room on two plush chairs while I try on dress after dress. I come out with each one, trying on Mom's pile first so I can get them out of the way. Obviously, none of them work because they're all too big and the seams hit my body in weird places because I'm 17, not 55.

No, I'm 18. I'm 18 now. Still not 55, though.

As I try on the ones that Lexie gathered for me, my mom's eyes practically bug out of her head. Lexie's style is much different than mine, complete with plunging necklines, open backs and slits up the leg. Mom shakes her head at every single dress I come out in, though I can't help but feel kind of sexy in some of them, even though I know they'd never fly.

My pile goes last. Much to Lexie's annoyance, I picked out two blush ones and try them on even against her advice. I step out and Lexie's face scrunches up and Mom has a deadpan expression on hers.

"Bad color," Mom says.

"Thank you," Lexie says. "She just can't stay away from that pink. Apes, it just doesn't go with your hair. It's not meant to be. Accept it, move on."

I sigh and hold the back of the dress together as I turn to look in the mirror. "Orphan Annie wore pink," I say pitifully.

"She did not," Lexie says. "She wore red. You've never seen that movie."

"And you're not wearing red," Mom cuts in.

I grumble under my breath and retreat back into the changing room, where I come out in countless more dresses, ranging from indigo to yellow to burgundy. Nothing flies with those two until I pick the last one in my pile, one that I forgot that I even picked up.

It's mint green with a high neck and a modest back. The top is covered with silver applique and encircled around the waist are dainty pearls and diamonds. I unzip it carefully, step in, and then open the door to show it off.

"See, this is the color I'm talking about," Lexie says, nodding her approval. "Your hair looks amazing against that." She stands, zips me up in the back, and then goes and sits back down next to my mom. "Do you like it?"

I stand in the mirror and smooth my hands down my waist. "I think it's the one," I say, doing my best to contain the excitement that twirls in my gut as I think of what Jackson will think of it. "Do you like it, mom?"

"It's very nice," she says. "I do wish there was a little shoulder cover, but… it's better than some of the other ones you tried on."

"She can't wear a bolero to prom, Mrs. Kepner," Lexie says, looking pointedly at my mom.

I giggle a little bit and then do one more spin. "So this is it?" I ask. "Can I get it, mom?"

She looks at the price tag and then back up at my beaming face. "Sure," she says. "Happy birthday, honey."

That night when we get home, I have cake and ice cream with my family after dinner. It's double chocolate, which is my favorite, and no one fights. I actually have a nice time for the first time in a while with everyone all in one place.

"I can't believe you're the big 18," Dad says, taking a sip of milk. "It seems like just yesterday that you were learning how to walk."

"I miss those chubby cheeks!" Mom squeals, and I smile and roll my eyes. "And those chubby legs, oh my goodness."

Per tradition, baby, toddler and little kid pictures are laid out on the table in celebration of me. When we're cleaning up the table, mom gathers them into a pile and hands it to me so I can take them up to my room when it's time to go to bed.

"I remember when your hair started to turn red," Mom says. "When you were born, you were as bald as the day is long. We thought you might even turn out to be blonde, we just didn't know." I rest with the small of my back against the kitchen island. "And the day that it started to sprout red, your daddy and I just started laughing! I mean, we should've known. Libby's was already a fire engine by the time she was two, it just took some time. You were the prettiest little baby, April!" She frames my face in one hand and then opens the dishwasher. "And you grew into the most polite child and the smartest and most Godly teenager. We're so lucky to have you." She turns back around and kisses my forehead.

"Happy 18th birthday, sweetheart," Dad chimes in, and gives me a big hug.

"Thanks, you guys," I say, grinning. "Thanks for all you did for me. The cake was delicious, the pictures are always great and mom, the dress. Thank you so much."

"You're welcome, sweetie," she says, and then they both bid me goodnight.

I go upstairs and close the door to my room, then flick on the light to see something at the end of my bed. I set the pictures down and walk towards it, discovering that it's a gift for me with a yellow ribbon wrapped around it and a handwritten note on top.

I pick the piece of paper off and read it to myself.

April-

I was here earlier and wanted to stay, but heard the birthday celebration going on downstairs and didn't want to get you in trouble. Sounded like you were having fun. So I just dropped off these gifts for you, hope you like them.

I love you so much and I hope you have an amazing bday… i'll see you soon.

CAN'T WAIT FOR PROM ON SATURDAY!

Anyway i love you and happy birthday baby. Love, jackson

I look at the two sloppily wrapped gifts and unwrap the bottom one first to see that it's Poltergeist on DVD. I smile at it and crack the case open, and a small sheet of paper falls out that reads: from the night i first kissed you and i'm pretty sure time stopped.

I stare at his handwriting and then fold the note into a tiny square that I tuck under my pillow to save. I open the next gift that was on top of it and see Hannah Montana's face. It's her first CD - the one that I had been dying for when I was a kid. There's another note, and it says: i remember how you said that you wanted the cd with her face on it and i found this at a consignment shop. I couldn't not get it for you. I hope it's as amazing as you thought it would be when you were little. I think you're pretty amazing, by the way.

I pull out the iPod Touch and text him as fast as I can.

SENT: 8:48pm- I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! Thank you for the gifts! I love love love love you!

RECEIVED: 8:54pm- u got them?! I had to be super sneaky to get in that window n then back out lol.

SENT: 8:55pm-you are sooooooo sneaky. I wish i could've seen you though :P

RECEIVED: 8:56pm- still. Sounded like u were having a nice time w ur family :)

SENT: 8:56pm-yeah. For once :P hey, i have some pictures i wanna show you! For every birthday, mom always puts out baby pictures of us and i thought you'd want to see some of these…

RECEIVED: 8:57pm- yes PLEASE

I get comfortable on my bed and fan the pictures out so I can take photos of them. The first one I send him is one of me at about three or four years old around Christmastime - sitting in a tiny rocking chair made just for me. I have my hands on my lap, hair pulled half back from my face, decked out in a red dress with a puppy sewn on the front. I have a devious smile on my face for no apparent reason.

RECEIVED: 9:00pm- sly asshole. Jesus ur cute. What happened?

SENT: 9:00pm- :P shut up.

The next picture I send is me with a small, colorful quilt over my head with my hands clasped at my chest, eyes closed with a smile that was supposed to be serene across my face.

RECEIVED: 9:02pm- pls tell me ur not being the virgin mary

SENT: 9:02pm- i'm totally being the Virgin Mary. i was her every year for the Christmas pageant until I got too old!

RECEIVED: 9:03pm-typical

The next photo is me taking a nap on our couch, face pressed into the back cushion so only half of it is visible to the camera. I'm covered in an afghan that my great-grandma made and I have a stuffed doll tucked in close to my back and a colorful pillow tucked in next to her.

RECEIVED: 9:04pm-were u a big comfy couch fan?

SENT: 9:04pm-? what's that?

RECEIVED: 9:04pm- a show! That doll thats behind you is from it, thought u'd know her

SENT: 9:04pm- oh…. gosh …. I didnt ever know what that doll was from. We got her from goodwill and i never let her out of my sight. I had no idea she was from a show!

RECEIVED: 9:05pm- again, typical

I giggle to myself and send one last picture, which is me dressed in a white dress with cherries printed on it, wearing a floppy jean hat with a pink flower on it. At about three years old, I'm trying to smile at the camera but it's coming off as more of a pained grimace.

RECEIVED: 9:06pm-u still make that face. To me mostly. Daily

SENT: 9:06pm- that's because you deserve it!

RECEIVED: 9:07pm- what? Who? Me? The picture of innocence? I deserve love and kindness only

SENT: 9:07pm- i am the PICTURE of love and kindness

RECEIVED: 9:08pm- yeah thats wht u want ppl to think…..

SENT: 9:08pm-you think you're soooooo funny.

RECEIVED: 9:08pm-*****know

SENT: 9:09pm-what?

RECEIVED: 9:09pm-i KNO im so funny. Tyvm

I change into my nightgown and hole up under my covers with the headphones so I can fall asleep listening to the 'J Loves A' playlist like usual. I put the earphones in, tuck my legs up to my chest, and pull the messages screen back up.

SENT: 9:16pm- i'm gonna try to fall asleep now. Listening to the music you gave me 3 will you stop by tomorrow? I really miss you.

RECEIVED: 9:17pm- sounds good. Ill be there at 10 once everyones asleep. Gn apricot, i love you

SENT: 9:17pm-goodnight, i love you!

As I'm walking out of school the next day, my mind is busy thinking about the fact that I'll get to see Jackson later. The whole school is abuzz with prom preparation, and for the first time I'm caught up in it and excited, too. It's a nice feeling to be included. I've never experienced it before.

As I'm passing the staircase, George catches up with me. "You getting excited for Saturday?" he asks.

I nod with enthusiasm. "Definitely," I say. "A little nervous, too."

The last part is honest. I've never been to a dance before, and I'm not really sure what to expect. Especially with Jackson, everything will be new and different. People will be looking at us, and I'm not used to that. But Jackson is Jackson, and he attracts attention - especially the fact that he's going with me. I'm anxious about everyone's reception of him and also sneaking around my mom with getting him here. It's not going to be easy, but Lexie and Arizona already said they'd help me in any way I need them to.

"Dances aren't that big of a deal," he says, shrugging. "The DJ plays crappy music and Montgomery yells at people to stop touching each other." We both giggle. "You'll have a good time."

"I hope so," I say with a smile.

"I'm just…" he says, opening and closing his mouth as he decides what to say. "I'm happy to see - you know, you seem more like your old self. You're happy. It's nice. I'm happy for you," he tells me.

"Well, thanks," I say. "I am happy right now."

He smiles while looking down at the floor. "Good," he says.

I get on the same bus as my sisters and wave George goodbye, then ride home while listening to the ruckus of the people around me. It's Tuesday, so there isn't much longer now to wait.

I hurry through dinner and my homework tonight only to have nothing to do once 8pm rolls around, so that means I accidentally fall asleep while lying sideways on my bed - the crown of my head touching the wall and my feet dangling off. I'm awoken with a start a couple hours later by a slow tap on the window to my right.

I look over with a smile on my face and rush to open it. The wind blusters in violently and I recoil because of it, and Jackson wraps his coat tight around himself.

"Come in," I say, ushering him forward.

"In?" he repeats, eyes concerned.

"It's too windy out there," I say, hugging myself. "I was asleep, I'm cold. Get in here."

"If you say so," he says, and steps in one leg at a time.

Once he's inside, I hurry to my door and lock it. Everyone should be asleep, but I don't want to take any chances on that front. I turn on my humidifier to create some white noise and block out any sound that Jackson and I might make; even though we'll be quiet there's no telling what my rat of a sister, Kimmie, might hear.

"You can take your coat off," I say. "Get comfortable."

"Oh," he says, half-smiling. "Okay." I sit down on my bed and pat the spot next to me so he'll sit. He kicks his shoes off, takes a look around, then plops down where I motioned to and wraps one arm around my shoulders. "Happy late birthday," he whispers, and kisses me.

"Thanks," I say with a smile, and lean into him. "I loved your notes."

"Could you read my handwriting?"

"Oh, you mean those hieroglyphs?" I ask, planting my hands flat on his chest. "Barely."

He chuckles and pushes my hair off my shoulders, running his hands down my back after he does so. I'm in most of my uniform still - blue skirt and white blouse without a layer over it. My arms get goosebumps from his touch, but I like it. I don't want them to go away.

"I missed you," I say, kissing him and opening my lips against his. "I really miss seeing you every day."

"You're telling me," he says, mouth moving down to my jaw as he works to untuck my blouse from my skirt. Once he does, his hand slips beneath it and crawls up my belly, over my ribcage, to rest over the swell of my breast. Though he just touches me over my bra - it's enough to excite me.

I fall to lie on my back and he follows my lead, half-covering my body with his own as he kisses my neck. "How're your grades?" I ask, eyes on the ceiling.

"Mm," he murmurs, thumb moving in deliberate circles so my nipple hardens beneath his touch. My hips squirm involuntarily; I can barely handle this sensation. I find myself wanting more of him than I ever have before, right here on the twin bed that I've grown up in. In my room I've had my whole life, I want Jackson to really touch me. I can't believe I'm thinking these thoughts.

"Mm?" I repeat, giggling. "What's that mean?"

"It means," he says, unbuttoning the first three buttons of my shirt so he can kiss the open skin on my chest. "I don't want to think about grades right now."

"Okay," I breathe, and move my hand from where it was resting next to me over to touch his waist. He unbuttons two more buttons on my blouse and I take in a deep breath and gather my courage, then tentatively reach below the button of his jeans to lightly graze over the bulge in his pants.

"Fuck," he mutters, letting out a heavy gust of air. I smirk to myself and curl my fingers into my hand, but then fan them out again and cover him, rubbing slowly up and down. "Holy shit," he says, resting his face in the crook between my shoulder and jaw. "April…"

"I…" I begin, but don't really know what I want to say. With words, that is. I adjust myself so I'm lying on my back and he's lying on his side next to me, then take his wrist and pull it down below my waist. I'm not sure what I want from him - not specifically - but I know I want him to touch me, if only a little.

He doesn't understand what I'm doing at first, he just lets me manipulate his wrist. But he's not lax enough, so I can't really get it where I want it.

"Jackson, I -" I take in a deep breath to steady myself, then get a little frustrated. I don't want to say it out loud, I just want him to read my mind. I take his wrist again and guide it inside my skirt, but over my tights, so his hand rests right on the core of me - a place on my body that he's never touched before. And I get the friction I've been looking for.

"Are you-" he begins, and I nod fervently. He kisses me, one hand still in my skirt, rubbing me slowly while the other one stays acting as a pillow under my head. I squeeze his fingers between my thighs as hard as I can and I think I hear him chuckle, but he pulls away as I start to push myself harder against him. "We can't do this here," he says.

I start to fight him, but I have no grounds to stand on. He's right. "I know," I say, and he slides his hand around from the front of me to the back, where he grabs a handful of my butt over my tights as I turn on my side. "I - um, I was just…" I can't stop stuttering. I know what I want to say, but it's proving harder than I thought to actually say it. "I wanted to know if - if you wanted to, of course, I wouldn't if you didn't - but I kind of really think you do… not now obviously, like not this minute, just like sometime - and I could be wrong, I don't know, just tell me… don't be afraid to just tell me-"

"April," he says softly, slipping his hand out from under my skirt to run his fingers through my hair. "Are you trying to ask me if I want to have sex with you?"

I blink up at him and relief floods through my body along with a mixture of nerves and excitement. I nod slowly.

"Of course I want to," he says, pressing his lips to mine gently. "I've been waiting for you. For when you were ready."

"I - um," I say, tucking my hand into his back pocket. "I was thinking maybe after prom. Even though that's so cliche and I hate myself for even suggesting it, and I don't mean to like… schedulea day and time for it because that's weird, but it just came to me and it seemed like a good idea. My mom expects me to be at Lexie's. But I want to be with you. Really be with you."

My cheeks get hot and I shake my head to try and will my blush away, but it persists. I've never said something even close to that out loud before.

"I'd love that," he says. "For you to come over after prom, yeah. That'd be…" He smiles. "That'd be really good." He licks his lips. "Would you want to… I don't know, spend the night?"

I bite my lower lip. "Yeah, I was hoping so," I say. "Unless you wanted to kick me out on the street."

He rolls his eyes. "Shut up," he says. "I just wanna make sure I have breakfast food. I'm not gonna make you eat cold pizza in the morning. That'd be cruel."

"Well, thank you in advance," I say, skimming one hand over his hair that's just gotten to the length I like it. I whisper, "I'm nervous."

"That's okay," he says, holding my neck as he kisses me. "It's alright to be scared, but at the same time… I got you. It's me and you. Nothing bad is going to happen, I promise."

The rest of the week flies by, and before I know it it's Saturday morning. I wake up to a few texts from Jackson, of course, and smile as I read them.

RECEIVED: 9:08am- TODAYS THE DAY!1

RECEIVED: 9:10am-wakey wakey sleepyheadddddd its PROM DAY

RECEIVED: 9:12am- i got my teal tie ready, corsage all bought, and im even thinking about showering 2day… feel special

RECEIVED: 9:24am-wakeeeeee upppppppppppp apppprrrillllllllll

SENT: 9:31am- i think you're more excited about this than me!

RECEIVED: 9:31am- 2 quote u, :P

I hop out of bed, get in the shower, and get my things ready to head to Lexie's. Today, along with Arizona, Amelia and Steph, we're going to the salon to get our hair, nails and makeup done for tonight and our appointment is at 10, so I need to get going.

My mom takes me in the van, and I practically bounce out of the seat once we pull up in front of Lexie's house. "Remember to take pictures for me," she says. I invited her to stay with Lexie's mom for the picture portion, but she turned it down. She has church on Saturday nights and tonight is apparently something she can't miss. I wasn't too disappointed; it actually makes things a bit easier for me without her breathing down my neck with every little thing I do.

"Thank you for letting me do this, mom," I say, leaning into the car as Arizona waves at me from the porch. "Really, really thank you." My stomach is jumping with nerves for everything to come later. When I see her next, I won't be the same person I am now and she will be none the wiser. Guilt flashes through me, but it disappears as fast as it came.

"You're welcome, sweetie," she says. "Your friends are calling you. You better go in."

I look back over my shoulder to see that Lexie's joined Arizona on the porch and is smiling like a maniac. "Okay," I say. "Love you."

"Love you, too," she says, and then I wave Mom goodbye and hurry up to join my friends as she drives away.

We drop everything off inside the house and then all pile in Meredith's car to head to the salon. She hadn't really wanted to take us, but she and Lexie's dad didn't really give her much of a choice. She waits in the car while we go inside and get pampered.

I sit next to Lexie as both our fingernails and toenails are being painted. I choose silver polish for both of mine to accent the color of my dress, and she chooses red to bring out the accents in the floral detail of hers.

"I have to tell you something," I whisper, not wanting the rest of our friends to hear. Luckily, they're caught up in their own conversations and aren't paying any attention to ours. She turns to me, eyebrows raised and interest piqued. "I'm staying over at Jackson's tonight."

"Oh," she says, but then realizes. "Oh. Oh." Her eyes widen. "April."

I nod. "Yeah, I know. I… I decided the other day. I'm ready, Lex. I love him. And he loves me."

I can see the cogs in her brain start to turn. "Okay, okay, I can make this work," she says. "My mom'll be asleep by the time prom's over anyway. She won't even know you're not with us. And in the morning, I'll just tell her you decided to go home instead."

I chew on the inside of my cheek. "Will that work?"

She gives me a look. "Yes. Don't worry. You go off and have teenage sex, and I'll-"

"Stop," I hiss, jutting my chin out in her direction. "Don't say it so loud."

"I still can't believe that I'm going to meet the famous Jackson," she says, facing forward again. "After hearing about him for so long, the legend finally becomes reality. I'm gonna be a little starstruck, not gonna lie."

I rest back against my chair and breathe deeply, trying to calm my wired nerves. There are so many ways in which tonight can go wrong, but so many ways that it can go right, too. I just have to somehow make sure that the latter happens.

"April," Lexie says, grabbing my attention again as I've zoned out in my head for a couple minutes. I turn my head to look at her. "I'm gonna tell you something, and don't write me off. I'm being serious, okay? Don't say ew and tell me to shut up. Listen to me, for once in your goddamn life." I nod begrudgingly. "I need to talk to you about orgasms. More specifically, the female orgasm. It's-"

"Lex-"

"No! I said listen to me and you agreed, so shush."

I shush.

"An orgasm is not a privilege. It's a right. So whatever happens tonight, you get Jackson to make sure you get one. That's not up for discussion. Like, yeah, your first time will be scary. It will. I'm not gonna lie and tell you that it won't be. But it's not gonna be scary for the reasons you think. You trust Jackson and you love him, so that won't be the scary part. What's going on inside your head is gonna scare you more - but try not to let it. You'll get self-conscious, but it'll go away. Try to let yourself enjoy it. And if he's the kind of guy you make him sound like, he'll be there for you every step of the way. Don't feel like you have to rush to keep up with some image you have in your head. Just let yourself be. And remember, you come first."

"I come first," I repeat, having heard the phrase before.

Lexie narrows her eyes and smirks. "I don't really mean that like I think you think I mean it," she says.

"What?"

She smiles wider and shakes her head so her hair flops around. "I mean," she says. "He needs to make sure you… come first."

I give her a confused look. I'm still lost.

"April," she hisses, lowering her voice. "You need to have your orgasm first."

"Oh," I say, blushing madly. "Right. Okay. Right." I turn away slightly and rest my chin in my palm. "Thanks, Lex."

She's giggling. "No problem," she says. "And also remember, if it gets to be too much, you're allowed to stop. You can stop whenever you want to."

"Okay," I say.

"I don't mean to preach or anything. I just know no one else is gonna tell you this shit."

"No, it's good," I say. "I… this is super awkward." I laugh. "But it's good."

We all get back to Lexie's house and it's time to get into our dresses to take pictures. "Don't you girls look nice," Lexie's mom, Susan, says. "I love what they did with your hair."

Mine is in an intricate updo low on the back of my head, complete with braids and curls and even a jewel accent on the side. I touch it gently as Susan compliments it, and then head off to Lexie's room to get into my dress.

I'm in here alone, so I take a second just staring - standing in front of it in my underwear and bralette - before I put it on. I run my fingers down the soft fabric and take it off the hanger, stepping in carefully before zipping it up as high as I can. I put on my heels and come out of the room and run into Lexie in the hallway, as she makes her way down with her wide black skirt.

"Oh my god, you princess," she says, and zips me up the rest of the way. "You. look. amazing."

I smile and twirl. "So do you!" I say, looking her up and down. "I know just what Mark is gonna say."

"It's pretty… could be lower in the front," Lexie says, mimicking Mark in a low voice. We both laugh as we head downstairs and meet up with everyone else outside for pictures - Mark, Derek, Meredith, Arizona, Amelia, and Steph are all on the porch mingling and waiting for Lexie's mom to get the camera ready. We join them and I hear Lexie ribbing Mark, saying something along the lines of: I didn't ask your opinion.

I hang out by myself, just happily listening in on everyone else's conversations. I meet Derek's eyes across the way and he nods at me, then walks a little closer. "You look really nice, April," he says.

My stomach doesn't jump and my face doesn't heat up. All I do is smile demurely and say, "Thank you."

I'm not sure how long pictures take, but it feels like ten hours. Once they're over with and my cheeks hurt from smiling too much, we all get in Mark's SUV to head to the high school.

My stomach is in knots. Jackson texted and said that he's already there and waiting, just on time. My palms are sweating, so I wipe them on Mark's upholstery and don't care if anyone notices. I wonder what Jackson is going to think of me. I clutch the overnight bag that I packed on my lap and try not to catch the attention of anyone else in the car as I quietly have a nervous breakdown.

When we pull into the parking lot, the building is lit up and there are small groups of people gathered outside, socializing before going in. We park and I get out first, scanning the area for my favorite familiar face. I finally see him by a lit-up pillar, leaning against it with one leg straight and the other bent in front of it, looking down at the corsage in his hand.

Lexie appears beside me. "Is that him?" she asks.

I nod while keeping my eyes forward. "That's him," I say, and I push ahead of my group so I can get to him first.

He lifts his head just in time and his face lights up in a soft smile. I try and take my time walking to him, but it's hard not to put a skip in my step when he's so close to me.

"You… look…" he says, eyes scanning me once I reach him. "Amazing. Beautiful. I… I can't even think of a good word."

I smirk and blush, right on cue. "So do you," I say, and reach up to run my finger down his blue tie. "We match perfect."

"Of course we do," he says, and kisses my cheek. "Here, this is for you."

He moves to put the corsage on me, but a voice stops us. "Wait, wait!" It's Lexie, hurrying towards us. "You have to let me get a picture of this. You're gonna want this, trust me."

We let her.

"Lex, this is Jackson. Jackson, this is my best friend, Lexie. And her boyfriend Mark, and our friends Amelia, Steph and Arizona." He waves at all of them, and I hold onto his arm while looking up at him. I feel so proud that he's mine. "I'm sure there'll be more people to meet inside," I say.

"You ready to go in?" Lexie asks, and Mark groans.

"So excited," he drones.

"Just because this is your thirtieth prom and your twelfth year of high school doesn't mean that you can't be excited," Lexie snips lightheartedly.

Mark holds his chest in fake pain and Jackson chuckles. I can't stop staring at him, watching him next to my friends. Two very important parts of my world are colliding, and I'm caught in the middle in the best way.

Jackson flashes his visitor's pass as we walk through the front doors and I keep close to him as we filter through the people on the way to the gym, where the bass of the music is thumping. As we get closer, Jackson scoffs and shakes his head. "Bad song," he says. "Horrible song."

"Agree," Lexie says. I just shrug because I've never heard the song in my life, and it sounds catchy enough to me. "They're not allowed to play mainstream music with curse words. So they find the most random shit and put it through."

We walk into the gym and get separated from the group, but I keep a good grip on Jackson's arm so I don't lose him, too. The song that's playing is fast and loud, and I look up to Jackson with a pained look on my face. "Do you want to dance to this?" I ask, shouting over the din of the music.

"Do you?" he asks me back. I shake my head no, and we sit down on the bleachers on the outskirts of the dance floor. We sit there awkwardly for a few minutes, both facing out towards the dance floor, just staring ahead. After a beat passes, we both turn in and start talking at the same time.

"Can we-"

"Do you-"

We laugh. "You go first," I say.

"No, you," he says.

I giggle a little bit. Being with him here feels so much different than being with him in his apartment; it feels like here we have to be something more. At home, I don't have to try to impress him - I've never felt the pressure to. But here, we're out in public and I want to know what he's thinking of me and all this. It's hard not to feel self-conscious as I've thrown him into a part of my life that he's never seen before.

"Do you maybe wanna get some punch and go out into the hall? It's quieter there, and we can talk," I suggest.

"That sounds great," he says, and we stand up from the bleachers. "I'll get the drinks and meet you out there, okay?"

I agree and then head out of the sweaty, loud gym and into the hallway where it's much cooler and calmer. I sit down on a bench just outside the cafeteria and slouch a little bit, wondering if my makeup is running or if my hair is deflating. I hope not for both of those things, but I don't feel like going into the bathroom to check. Most likely I'd run into girls that I would rather not run into.

Jackson doesn't take long with the punch. He comes back, sits next to me, and hands me a cup that's most of the way full.

"It tastes like sugar water, just to warn you," he says.

I take a sip. He's right, it's awful. "Geez," I say, and set the cup down on the bench next to me.

"I couldn't really tell you earlier," he says, setting his cup down too. "But you look really… really, gorgeous. You know I think you're gorgeous in the first place, but in this dress…" He shakes his head. "Damn, April. You're beautiful."

"Stop," I say, cheeks flaming.

He chuckles and holds my hand. "So this is the school, huh? Old DePaul Prep?"

I look up and join him in looking around. The cafeteria is behind us, the gym on the left, and the wide-open atrium is laid out in front. The senior hallway is tucked just behind the staircase and we could see it if we leaned a little bit to either side, but it's not that important.

"Yep," I say. "My own personal Hell every single day."

"Hey, Kepner."

I hear a voice from behind us and flip my head around to see Callie Torres coming out of the bathroom, alone for the first time in seemingly forever. She's in a long, black dress with dramatic makeup, her hair in curls around her shoulders. She's smiling at me. For a second, I wonder if I'm possibly having a stroke. Or maybe, if she is.

"Oh, um, h-hey, Callie," I respond.

"I like your dress," she says, lingering an awkward distance away from us.

"Thanks," I say. "You look really pretty, too."

She gives me a somewhat apologetic, somewhat grateful smile. "Just wanted to tell you," she says.

"Thanks," I say again, not really knowing what else to add to the conversation.

She raises one hand in a curt wave. "Have a good rest of your night," she says, and then walks off.

Once she's a far enough distance away, I turn to Jackson with a bewildered expression on my face and he asks, "Was that the Callie?" I nod silently. "Well, now I can see why she was so mean to you before. I think she probably had a crush on you, if she still doesn't."

I roll my eyes and scoff loudly. "Don't be mean," I say.

"I'm honestly not," he says. "I can see it, I'm on the outside. You can't. When you stood up to her on Valentine's Day like you told me, you probably made her confront her feelings towards you."

I scoot closer to him and touch the tip of my nose to his. "When did you get so wise?" I ask, rubbing my hands up his arms.

"Born this way," he says, and steals a kiss. "You taste like that punch."

"Punch," I say, and gently sock his bicep.

A little over an hour passes where not much happens. I come to realize that prom got hyped up so much only for it to be pretty boring, and the only thing I'm thinking about is what's going to come after this. I can't help but be anxious to get out of here, even though I wanted so much to enjoy it - I'm not. And I can tell that Jackson really isn't, either.

As I stand on the outskirts of the dance floor, though, he seems to have disappeared. I confusedly look around for him, but don't see him anywhere. I shrug to myself and stay standing where I am, knowing he'll find his way back eventually, and then feel someone's fingertip run down my entire arm.

When I turn around to see that it's Alex, it gives me chills in a bad way.

"Virgin Mary Fuckie is showing her shoulders off to the world," he says. "Trying to get laid tonight or something, Fuckie? I've never seen you in something this slutty." My forehead crinkles and I take a step back away from him. My dress isn't slutty and I know that, but that doesn't mean his words don't hurt. "You tried to look all nice, yet still had to keep those fucking ugly glasses," he continues, then scoffs. "Dumbass. You're never gonna fully get it, are you?"

I turn my back on him and luckily, he gets swept up in the crowd. A few moments later, Jackson shows up with a proud grin on his lips. "Do you wanna leave?" I ask, almost as soon as he reaches me.

He raises his eyebrows in surprise and winds his arm around the small of my back. "Let's wait one more song," he says.

"Jackson," I whine, maybe a little too dramatically.

"April," he says, matching my tone and smiling. "Trust me, okay? You're gonna want-"

Interrupting his sentence, the first notes of 'Try A Little Tenderness' by Otis Redding come on - the song that was my most favorite from the first CD he made me. I look up at him with a big smile, and he tips his head to the side in response.

"Told you," he says, then extends his hand. "Dance with me?"

I take his hand and my heart flutters as we walk to the middle of the gym floor. He wraps his arms around my waist and I link my hands together behind his neck, and as I look up into his face I know for a fact that I've never been more smitten with someone in my entire life, and I don't think I ever will be again. I want him to last. I want him to be forever.

"You know she's waiting… just anticipating… the thing that she'll never, never, never, never possess, yeah, yeah… But while she's there waiting, and without them, try a little tenderness…" he sings along softly, just to me, taking one hand from my waist to tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear.

My smile is going to break my face, I'm sure. I'm positively beaming up at him, basking in the light of his eyes, wondering how I got so lucky.

"April, remember to leave room," I hear Ms. Montgomery say as she passes by, and I glance over at her with worry only to see that she's grinning with a twinkle in her eyes. She gives me a minute shake of the head, and I smile back at her.

When the song speeds up, Jackson and I dance crazy. I throw my arms above my head and jump around in circles, and he does the same. I'm sure we look unbelievably stupid, but I can't find it within myself to care. When the song ends, we're breathless and happy, red-faced and sweaty as we walk off the dance floor and towards the front doors, hand-in-hand.

I press the length of my arm to Jackson's and look up at him as we stroll through the parking lot, my lips tugging up at the corners. He looks down at me and asks, "Did you have a good time?"

I squeeze his hand. "All because you were here," I say.

"Aw, would you look at that," Alex says, standing up from the curb where he'd been sitting. "How cute. Look at you, Kepner. How much did you pay this poor guy to take you here? Or, Jesus Christ, did you finally find someone who'll fuck you? Nah, that can't be-"

Everything happens in slow motion, yet faster than the blink of an eye. Jackson drops my hand, takes one steady step forward and punches Alex square in the nose with what looks like all the strength he can muster. I cover my mouth with both hands, gaping as Alex stumbles and falls to land flat on his back on the concrete.

"Jackson!" I shriek, and he tries to go for him again but I yank him back by his left arm. "No, don't!" Alex is already bleeding from his nose and mouth, and it'd be wrong to go for him while he's down. "Come on," I say, throwing a look over my shoulder at Alex, who hasn't gotten up from the ground. "We should go."

When we get in the car, Jackson shakes out his hand and I turn the light on so I can see it. "This'll need ice when we get back," I say, then look at him all wide-eyed. "You punched Alex." I'm still in shock over it.

He chuckles, then giddily says, "I punched Alex."

There's a moment of charged silence where we're both breathily laughing, and then we turn towards each other and he grips my face and I lean over the console so he can kiss the complete life out of me. His hands roam all over my body, starting at my bare shoulders and then drifting down to my waist and hips where they come to rest. When we come up for air, his eyes are hungry and hooded. "We should go," I say again, my voice low. "We should get out of here."

Jackson keeps his hand on my thigh for the entire ride back to his place, and Lexie's words won't leave my head. You come first. You come first. You come first.

I can't stop thinking about it. How will this feel for me? How is it supposedto feel? I had thought about doing research beforehand, but I felt silly and then I told myself that it would probably just scare me. And I don't want to be scared.

I glance over at Jackson and smile at him as he looks at the road. I'm not scared of him, not at all. That's not it. But my body has always been mine and mine alone. Now, it feels like I'm giving a part of it over and I want to, but it's still a big step.

I try and take Lexie's other advice and get out of my own head. Like she said, it's just making things worse. I concentrate on the warmth of his hand on my leg and go back and replay all of what just happened at prom. I can't believe that all of this is happening to me. Of all people, I get to experience this. It doesn't seem real. I rest my hand overtop of his to make sure that I'm here and this is happening, and he glances over in response to my touch.

"Hey," he says softly, and I squeeze his fingers.

When we get up to his apartment, I fall into the usual routine and take my heels off right away, which my feet are glad for. I haven't been here in a while, so after I drop my overnight bag off on the couch, I smile because the air smells like him. Being away from it for so long has reopened my eyes to the way he smells and I'd be lying if I said I didn't love it.

He slips out of his shoes, too, and I can feel his eyes on me as I look out the window down towards the street. When I turn back, I see that I was right and he'd been watching me from across the room, hands in his pockets. "What?" I ask.

He shakes his head a little. "You just look so effortless," he says.

I walk over to him, the skirt of my dress billowing as I go. "You sound like those romantic poets you love so much," I tell him, running my fingers down his tie. "I think they rubbed off on you."

"Hopefully I won't be sticking my head in the oven anytime soon," he says, snorting.

"Sylvia Plath was not a romantic poet, dummy," I say.

He leads the way into the kitchen and opens the freezer. "I'm ignoring your insult," he says. "Because I have ice cream. Want some?"

I'm never one to turn down ice cream, and he dishes us each a bowl. We stand across from each other, both leaning against opposite sides of the counter, still in our prom clothes as we eat.

"I still can't believe you punched Alex," I say.

"He had it coming," he says. "I've been wanting to do that for a long ass time. And if he didn't pull anything, I really wasn't going to. But it was his choice to say shit, so he got hit." He laughs at himself. "Talk shit, get hit. That's what they say."

"I've never heard that."

"Well, they say that."

"Who's they?"

"You know, they. Just people. They."

We laugh and he finishes his ice cream first with me coming only a few minutes after. We put our bowls in the sink and then have a moment where we both know what we're not saying, but neither of us are sure if it should be said. My nerves are on end as I wring my hands and finally ask, "Can we go to your room now?"

If I'm not mistaken, I see his face flush. "Of course," he says. "I just didn't… I didn't wanna rush, or push or anything. I didn't know if you still wanted… what you said, the other day - if you were still thinking about…"

"I am," I assure him. "Are you?"

He nods and gives me a killer smile. "Yeah," he says. "For sure." He makes a wide gesture with his arm and says, "After you."

I walk into his room and though he lives alone, he shuts the door behind us. I'm not sure why, but that comforts me and I'm glad he does it. I sit down on the edge of his bed, which is made up and nice, and rest my open hands on my knees. "You cleaned up in here," I say, looking around.

He rubs the back of his neck. "I… yeah," he says with a grin. "I wanted to make it nice for you."

"I like it."

"Good."

We're quiet for a moment and then he takes off his suit jacket, which leaves him in a periwinkle dress shirt that makes his eyes pop. The silence lasts until I look up at him and say softly, "I'm nervous."

He smiles a little. "I know," he says, and sits down next to me. "I can tell. You're not talking."

"Am I really that easy to read?" I ask.

He moves a piece of hair out of my eyes. "Kind of, yeah." He laughs and I pretend to pout. "If you're not ready-"

"No, I swear I am," I say. "Really. I'm not just saying that. I… I want you. I just want to put it out there that I'm nervous."

"Communication is good," he says, nodding. "How about this. We just go slow. Do stuff we've done before. No one's rushing, we're not being timed. There's no rules we have to abide by. It's just me and you," he says. "Like always."

My gut settles a little bit. "You could help me take my hair out," I suggest.

"That works," he says.

I start with the clips in the front while he works on the ones in the back, and when those are all out, he weaves his fingers through the braids so they come undone, too. Lastly, he takes the decorative barrette off the side of my head and sets it on his nightstand, and I turn towards him with one knee bent up on the bed and the other foot still on the floor. "Do I look pretty?" I ask teasingly, knowing my hair must be a wreck.

"As always," he says, completely genuine.

I want out of my dress, but that means I'll be left in only my underwear and bralette. My heart is ready for that step, but I'm not sure if my head is. He holds my jaw in his hands and kisses me softly, and I rest my hands on his chest and hold onto his tie as he presses his mouth harder against mine. I'm ready. I want out of it.

"Can you unzip me?" I ask breathlessly, pulling my mouth from his.

If he's surprised he doesn't show it, and I appreciate that. "Sure," he says, and I swivel around so my back is facing him. He slowly pulls my zipper down until I feel the air hit my back, and he runs one finger deliberately down the bumps of my spine after it's exposed.

The goosebumps rise up immediately on my skin. I take in a deep breath and stand up so I can step out of the dress and hang it somewhere nicely so it won't wrinkle. I place it over the back of his desk chair, and I can tell he's trying not to look at me so I won't be uncomfortable. My underwear are sky blue and my bralette is the same color - I've had this matching set buried in my drawer from when Lexie got them for me as a joke for my birthday last year. I never thought I'd have a reason to wear them - I would've never expected this.

He swivels around and pulls open his laptop, clicking quickly to pull open his Spotify and turn on a playlist that I can see is called 'sex jams.' Sultry hip-hop fills the room and covers the silence, and I'm glad for that. It makes things seem easier. Music is our connecting force.

"You can look at me, Jackson," I whisper, and I sit back down on the bed next to him. His eyes drift up from the navy blue comforter over my legs, up my torso, across my chest, and finally to lock with my eyes. I inhale deeply and fold my hands on my lap, feeling so incredibly naked yet not at all afraid.

"I've never shown someone this much skin before," I say. "I know I'm all scrawny and small and bony-"

"Stop," he says. "Come here."

He tentatively wraps his fingers around my waist and then situates his arms in their place to hug me close. He buries his face in my neck and I feel his mouth open against my skin; the heat of his breath and the slight suction of his lips is making my heart go crazy.

"I feel overdressed," he says.

"You are," I reply, and pull back from him to try and undo his tie, but I don't get very far. "I can't do it."

"That's okay," he says, smiling. "I've had a lot of practice, ever since I was a kid." He undoes it in one fluid motion and then casts it down to the floor.

"Why do you have so much practice?" I ask, fiddling with the top button of his shirt.

"My mom liked me going to fancy benefits with her starting at a young age," he says. "By 8, I knew how to network. It was sad."

"Sad?" I ask, slowly undoing the buttons one by one. "Sounds like a good skill to have."

He gives me a half-smile. "Did you like sitting through long ass sermons when you were a little kid? Or would you have rather been at home, playing with your sisters and you know… being a kid?"

My mouth forms a straight line as his words sink in. "Oh," I say.

"Yeah," he says. "I learned from it, but it wasn't something I enjoyed. But guess what?"

"What?"

"You're something I enjoy," he murmurs. "And you're the only thing I wanna think about right now."

At this point, all of his buttons are undone and his shirt falls open to either side to expose his sturdy chest and torso. I untuck it from his pants and skim my fingers down his muscles, feeling heat pool between my legs as I do so, then lean forward and press my lips to his collarbones.

I trail my hands over his shoulders, even as my fingers tremble, to push his shirt down his arms. He shimmies out of it and throws it to the foot of the bed, then hurriedly undoes the button of his pants so he can step out of them and leave the discarded pile on the floor next to the bed.

Now we're both in our underthings. It dawns on me that I've never seen his legs before now; they're toned and sculpted and the hair on them brushes against the smoothness of my calves as I lay back and we intertwine.

With our hips pressing insistently against each other, I feel him heavier than I ever have before. There's only two layers of impeccably thin fabric that separates us and I'm painfully aware of that fact as my pelvis writhes under his pressure. His mouth is hot on my neck, and I feel his tongue part his lips to skim over my throat and then go lower - exploring the open plane of my chest and then the lace of my blue bralette.

I take in a short gasp and my body twitches up towards him as he spreads his fingers out and rubs them down my back as far as he can reach. He closes his mouth and smiles against my breastbone, the tip of his nose squashed against my chestplate. "You heartbeat," he murmurs. "It's wild."

I let out a shaky breath. "I know," I admit, and press my hand overtop of it as light as a feather.

"Can I take this off?" he asks, lifting his head up and tracing the lace on the underside of my bralette. With each inhale, my ribs show through my stomach with his free hand resting overtop of them, his thumb moving in slow circles.

"Yeah," I say, and sit up halfway so I can pull it off over my head. Once it's off, I stay covering my chest with my hands and look at him nervously. "No one's… no one's ever seen…"

"I know," he says. "I know. You go at your pace. You tell me when you're ready."

I lay back down and look up at him, and as our eyes concentrate on each other, slow smiles break onto both of our faces. "I'll just keep kissing you," he says. "And you move your hands when you feel like it."

He pushes his body back up and presses his lips to mine, and when he opens his mouth and I breathe him in, I slip my hands off of my breasts and circle them around his shoulder blades so our bare chests are pressed up tight against each other. Skin on skin. Heartbeat against heartbeat. Him… and me. And that's it.

Jackson takes his time with me. The minutes slow down as he drops kisses down my jaw, over my neck, and then when he pulls his head back to look at me full-on. He bites his lower lip and his eyes flit from my breasts to my eyes, back and forth until I feel that familiar blush flooding my face. "Well, say something," I murmur.

"I don't know what to say," he admits, and lowers his face back to my chest. He nips a tiny bit of the skin at the apex of my ribs and chuckles against me, then gently kisses the swell of my right breast before covering my nipple with his tongue.

"Oh," I gasp, and my hands fly to his head as his teeth graze over a spot on my body that's never been touched by another person before. "Oh, my gosh." I rake my fingernails over the back of his neck and down across his shoulder blades, and involuntarily arch my hips up to collide with his. I feel that same stiffness between us, except this time I know what it is.

I feel a budding sense of pride knowing that I'm the one who did that to him.

He covers my opposite breast with his hand as he removes his mouth from the other one and licks his way down my torso and down to the waistband of my underwear. He's breathing hard now, I can see his shoulders heaving, and his eyes have a certain heady quality to them that I haven't seen before. When his teeth drag over the lacy band of my underwear, I can't help but jolt in the opposite direction so hard that the crown of my head smacks against his headboard.

"Ouch," I hiss, rubbing the spot.

He looks up at me. "You okay?" he asks.

"Just, what… what… just -" I try and catch my breath and as I do so, one of his hands sneaks up and squeezes my breast as he smiles sneakily. "I just don't know… what are you doing?"

"I was planning on going down on you…" he says, with that same smirk.

"I… what?"

He kisses the top of my thigh and then smoothes his hands over my underwear on my hips. My chest is heating up and I'm starting to feel self-conscious for the first time, and I don't like it. "April…" he begins. The tone of his voice is gentle and it's the one he uses specifically for me. I tell myself that I don't need to feel stupid, that this is Jackson we're talking about. "Sorry. I forget that you… you make me forget that you don't … oral sex. I want to help ease you into it with something that's just for you." He pauses a moment. "Well, not just for you. I'm also going to enjoy it, but… you know what I mean. I hope."

Lexie's words run through my head again. You come first. I hadn't even needed to say anything; he's just going to do it. By his own accord. It's like he knows.

"Okay," I say. "Okay."

"If you want me to stop, just tell me," he says, and curls his fingers around the lace to pull it down. I lift my hips up so he can, and then kick the fabric off the bed when it gets tangled around my ankles.

I'm naked. Completely naked in front of a boy for the first time, and I find myself feeling safe. And wanted. And loved. And seen.

He presses a gentle kiss to my thigh again and then gently parts the both of them. "Relax…" he says, his voice low and soothing. "I got you. Relax."

I do my best to make my breaths come evenly. I can't bear to watch him, for some reason that just makes it all too much, so I'm staring at a specific spot on the ceiling when his lips connect with my core and my body rockets into sensory overload. I've never been touched like this before, and he knows exactly what he's doing. I clap one hand over my forehead as he opens his mouth, and I feel the warm wetness of his tongue and the low hum of his voice vibrating against my center. It takes me a moment to realize that the soft, desperate whimpers that I hear are coming from myself.

I've started to sweat. I feel it on my neck and my hairline; he's making me hot in every sense of the word. I never knew my body was capable of feeling like this. I never even knew this was a thing- how would I? It's not like my school, my church, or my parents would ever teach me.

Now Jackson, my student, has become my teacher.

He hollows out his cheeks and sucks hard, which makes me unabashedly scream. I don't know what exactly he's touched, but it's something right and I'm pretty sure I'm seeing stars. My jaw hangs open and for the first time since he began, I touch him. I run my fingers over his curls and yank on them as he continues to do what he's doing, and then an even stronger feeling washes over me. My thighs start to quake and my hips buck up towards his face, even as he firmly holds them in place. Even with my body writhing beneath his hands, his mouth stays connected and he doesn't give me a reprieve.

"I… I…" I pant. I'm not sure what's happening. I'm feeling a million things at once and everything feels so… good.

"You're about to come, babe," he says, speaking out of the side of his mouth so he doesn't have to lift his lips from me. "Let it happen."

I lay back and he sucks on the same spot that made me see stars, and then it happens. I hear sounds that don't even sound like me somehow come out of my mouth as my back arches sideways off the mattress. Jackson still holds my lower half down as I move erratically, and it takes me forever to ease down from the feeling. When I do, my heart is beating over my entire body and he's smiling from between my thighs.

I glance down at him before my eyes roll back in my head. "What," I pant.

He crawls up and kisses the sweaty part of my neck, running his tongue over the perspiration. As he lifts his face, he presses his lips to my chin and then my mouth, where he lingers. "You just had your first orgasm," he says, one hand searching my body until it lands over my left breast. "How'd it feel?" I can't answer him with words. I cover his hand with my own and squeeze his fingers, and he gets the hint to grip me tighter. He smiles as we kiss and rubs his thumb roughly over my nipple to made it harden into a peak, which he then takes into his mouth after moving down to my chest. "You're amazing," he says, words falling out over my skin.

We make out for a long time after that, and then the thought passes through my mind that I'm ready and I want this to happen. "Jackson," I breathe, and hold his shoulders. "Is this going to hurt me?"

He licks his lips and pecks my cheek, rolling off of me so we can talk. "I was doing some research," he says. "I've never… um, been with a virgin before. So I thought it would be good to read up." I turn on my side and rest my hand in the middle of his chest, where I can feel his heart beating through his sternum. "I read a lot of articles. They said that it might hurt, but it won't be that bad. And you might bleed, but just a little."

I nod and whisper, "Okay."

"I got some lube, too," he says, and reaches over me to open the drawer of his nightstand. "This is water-based. Oil-based dissolves condoms, which...no." I hear the sound of foil and he comes back with a bottle and a gold square that I can only assume is the condom. "They also said you might not come because your body isn't used to it. So if you don't…" he says with a smirk. "That'll just give me an excuse to go down on you again."

We spend a moment watching each other's faces, and then I touch the waistband of his underwear and say, "Okay. I'm ready."

"Yeah?" he asks. I nod. "Okay."

He takes off the last piece of clothing that remains on his body, and I can't help but stare. I don't have anything to compare it to, but I can tell he's not small by any means. He snorts and I look up at him with a look of alarm in my eyes.

"I -" he stammers, then shakes his head. "You're… kinda staring."

"Oh - um, I - sorry," I say, chewing on a small portion of my lower lip.

"It's okay," he says. "No need to apologize. I just want to make sure you're okay."

I meet his eyes. "I am," I say. "I swear."

He puts the condom on and then lubes himself up. I'm glad he thought of that, because I hadn't even known that a man-made form of lubrication existed before now. "Okay," he says, and kisses me. "I'm gonna go in now."

"Okay," I whisper, and sling my arms around his neck as he thrusts his hips slowly against mine and pushes inside me. When he's in, I feel a heavy, insistent pressure, but it doesn't really hurt that bad. I remind myself to breathe and try to relax my muscles, and I close my eyes to try and center myself. Jackson buries his face in my neck and opens his mouth on my pulse point as he moves his hips again, and when he moans... that makes me feel something entirely new.

I can't exactly say that it feels pleasant while he's inside me, but I do like being this close to him. And I can tell he's really enjoying it, which makes me feel proud and incredibly sexy. He's doing his best to be gentle, so when his hips buck roughly against me I know that he's starting to lose himself. He pulls his face up from my neck and looks into my eyes - and I see the rawest part of him that I've been introduced to so far. There's something primal in his eyes as he moans with his mouth hanging slightly open, and it's making me want him even more.

He grinds his pelvis with a lasting thrust and inhales deeply, asking me, "You okay?" in a low, guttural voice.

"I'm great," I say, reaching up to run my fingers down from his temples to rest on his cheeks. "Keep going."

He does. He goes until I hear him make a sound low in his throat, and his hips twitch and move much more erratically than they'd been doing before. I move my hands from his face to grip his waist so I can feel him as he comes inside me, and the sounds he's making are so absolutely delicious that I wish I could somehow contain them and keep them with me forever. I never want to forget this moment.

He's breathing hard when he comes down fully, and now he can't stop kissing me. He pulls out, does something with the condom, and wastes no time in lowering himself back down below my waistline. He makes me come with his mouth again, spending ample time making sure that I feel good and that my body is appreciated.

When he comes back up, I'm lying with my arms strewn on the pillow above my head, panting wildly. He props himself up on his elbow and swipes a bit of my sweaty hair off of my forehead, looking down at me like I singlehandedly hung the moon.

"Holy shit," he says, and kisses me before meeting my eyes again. "I am so in love with you."