The room was incredibly nice, larger than she'd expected, with all warm color, tans and soft creams, and the carpet was plush and soft under her worn sneakers. There was a massive bed pushed up against the wall, close to the wide window that golden afternoon sunlight streamed in through. A luxurious room for such a taboo thing.

The door clicked shut behind her, making her jump. Her heart was hammering loudly as Derek walked deeper into the room. He was like a big, dark shadow in the middle of a white canvas, and it shouldn't arouse her as much as it did. Her palms were wet, her tank top sticking to her skin, her breathing quick and shallow as she watched him, wide-eyed.

Her nerves were frayed as he stopped in the middle of the room and turned to her. His eyes were hard to read. His face was flushed in hot-pink patches that spread further down his throat and she couldn't help but wonder how far it went.

"Are you hungry?" she blurted without thinking, suddenly conscious of the heavy sensation in her stomach, the single slice of pizza a heavy ball in the pit of her stomach. "Sorry. Just—just nervous." Her voice came out high-pitched and squeaky with anxiety.

Derek took a small step back. "Are you okay

? We don't have to, you know that, right? I'd never—" He stopped, jaw working, face flushing even darker. "—I'd never force you. Ever."

She felt herself turn pink. "I know. How should we—do you wanna start with kissing?" she asked, looking at the buttons of his shirt that glinted slightly in the dim sunlight that was rapidly fading.

He froze at the words, his breath catching with an audible click.

The longer he stood still and silent, the worse she felt and forced herself to look away from him. "Forget it," she muttered quietly and, without looking at him, she all but sprinted into the bathroom.

Her face felt hot, her mouth quaking, as she leaned against the door, trying hard not to cry. Stupid, she told herself, scrubbing at her eyes to keep the tears at bay, this will never work. You're so stupid for thinking it might.

She pulled out her phone and texted Rae.

Chloe: 'I hate this! This was never going to work & he hates me & its gonna hurt so much!' — 6:03 pm

Rae replied almost immediately. 'Why? Did he hurt you? What happened?' — 6:03 pm

Her hands trembled as she typed the words. Tears ran down her face. 'He doesn't wanna touch me — he's that disgusted by me. Am I so gross? Maybe I'm the only person who's soul-mate is so disgusted by her he doesn't want her. He hates my guts. My soul-mate hates my fucking guts.' — 6: 05 pm

The reply was instantaneous and exactly the body-positive, build-Chloe's-self-esteem she expected. 'No. He's lucky to have you. You're a total babe.' — 6:06 pm

'He literally went like a statue when I suggested we start with kissing. He didn't even respond! I don't think a guy who thinks I'm "such a babe" would do that!' — 6:07 pm

As she sat on the phone, she heard creaking outside. Was he listening? Did he even care? Her phone buzzed with a barrage of texts.

'It'll be ok, I promise! I mean, yeah, he's an asshole, but I really don't think he'd make it awful for you. I don't think he'd purposefully hurt you, Chloe. It's his first time too, right? I know he's generally not a pleasant guy, but maybe he's scared of hurting you or fucking it up. Remember he just got Bound to you too so he's probably feeling out of his depth just like you.' — 6:10 pm

Chloe's thumbs moved swiftly across the screen. 'Maybe. I guess I never thought about how he'd be feeling. I've been scared out of my mind about how it's gonna hurt. I think I'm gonna try again. Really try.' — 6:11 pm

Rae's response was predictable Rae—reassurance with a dash of murder. 'It's gonna hurt, but if he makes sure you're wet, and if you have an orgasm or two before, it shouldn't be as bad. Love you, Chloe. It'll be okay. If he does hurt you, well, remember my mom and I know how to dispose of a body.' — 6:13 pm

Chloe snorted, unable to stop the noise from escaping her. 'Just because you watch true crime doesn't mean you know how to hide a fucking body, Rae. Love you too. Thanks.' — 6:15 pm

A sharp knock on the door made her climb to her feet, stepping away from the door as she eyed it warily. What would he say? Would he mock her? Would he push open the door? Her hand tightened around her phone, the plastic creaking in her grip.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly, his voice low and startlingly soft. "I'm—I'm sorry about all this. I know this is a lot…and I know I'm the last person you probably want to touch you." He gave a low laugh that had an unexpected edge. Anger maybe, but it felt more self-deprecating, like he didn't believe anyone could ever want him.

She stood there silently for a moment, heart hammering, blood whooshing in her ears, before she grabbed the doorknob. The floor outside creaked like he was shifting his weight.

Holding her breath, she twisted the knob and pulled open the door, watching as he took a step back, giving her space. His expression was uncharacteristically pinched and anxious, his mouth thin. It occurred to her he was just as nervous as she was.

"It's not that you're the last person I'd want to touch me," she said when she found her voice, "but rather you're the first. This is big, considering we don't really know each other that well, and I'm more than a little terrified out of my mind."

"Terrified? Do I scare you that much?" Horror laced his words as he stared wide-eyed at her.

She shook her head. "Not because it's you but because I've never done this before. The most I've done is some kissing and heavy petting, but that's it. I've never gone farther, so yeah, I'm a little terrified."

She moved to walk past him, stumbling over a bump in the carpet, and when he gripped her arm tight, the noise that escaped was an embarrassing, squeaky moan that made him reel back the minute it escaped her lips.

"You—I wasn't—are you—didn't meant—wasn't trying to—" He swallowed abruptly, drawing her attention to the hammering pulse in his throat, and dropped his hand so fast her skin burned.

The smell of him, a heady mix of body wash and perspiration, made her dizzy as she felt herself fall onto the bed, her legs weak. She looked at him, drinking in his imposing height, the tilt of his head, his deep green eyes. She couldn't make herself stop staring at him.

His eyes were deep and half-lidded, hooded; his hands were stuffed deep in his pockets as he slouched boyishly; his full, too-red mouth was drawn thin; vivid color stained his face beneath the pocket of broken, irritated acne. His long fringe of eyelashes cast frayed shadows across the swell of his cheeks. His hair was in a disarray, windswept, wild—easing the harshness of his scowl and angular features.

She swallowed, looked away and felt her stomach turn with anxiety. The sound of his soft, heavy breathing made a little tension ease out of her, her hands uncurling from the fists she hadn't realize she'd clenched them into.

"You wouldn't," she said finally, her voice thick.

He inhaled sharply. "What?" His voice was soft, confused. Disbelieving. As though he couldn't fathom her words.

"Be forcing me. I think—I think it'll be okay. If it's you. I-I know—" She stopped, unable to keep talking due to the hard, thick lump in her throat that had sprouted. She wasn't even sure what she would say.

He shuffled closer, his footfalls muffled by the carpet.

As she sat waiting, her hands tucked beneath her thighs, her pulse drummed in her ears.

"I'll make this good for you. Can I—can I kiss you?" His voice was so quiet, so gentle, as he choked the words that it took her a second to register he'd asked her something. When it did, her heart skipped a beat as heat rushed to her cheeks.

She nodded, silent. Unable to speak even had she wanted to.

He sat down beside her gingerly, the bed dipping drastically with his weight. She'd never been so close to him before. "Are you sure? We don't—we don't have to. I won't force you. Ever. Not even a kiss," he said sincerely, turning to face her.

Chloe glanced up at him. His expression was a neutral mask but his eyes spoke volume, as they often did, revealing the depth of his emotion. Soft and kind, they let her make a decision.

She placed her hand on his shoulder, feeling the solid warmth of him through his shirt, and squeezed her fingers. She leaned in close, closed her eyes, and waited.

A moment passed before he kissed her.