GRACE

I never thought I would become the kind of girl who hid boys in her closet.

I never thought I would become the kind of girl to sneak a boy into her bed and get tangled up in a mess of limbs, whispers, and giggles while her parents slept unaware down the hall.

I never thought I would become the kind of girl who fell in love. Ridiculous, exhilarating, childish love.

Just a mere hour earlier, my parents had retreated to their bedroom and Sam and I were both fully clothed sitting cross-legged on the floor in my room. He was immersed in a heavy, dusty novel and I was drowsily completing a page of repetitive, time-consuming calculus problems. Surrounding us, was an array of bowls, spoons, chocolate syrup, maraschino cherries and other various remnants of our homemade ice cream sundaes.

"Grace," Sam spoke, interrupting our separate activities, "are you tired?"

I shifted to sneak a glance at my alarm clock that was perched on my bedside table; 12:40 glowed in a muted, neon green color. "No," I replied, rather surprised that I had not yet been overcome with drowsiness despite the fact that it was nearing one in the morning.

Sam flopped his book on the floor, pages down, and motioned with his pointer finger for me to come closer.

"Sam," I attempted to murmur seductively, "are you suggesting that we…" I mockingly whispered as I crawled a couple feet closer to his smiling face.

That was an hour ago.

Now, I was lying on my back in my black sports bra and pink hipster panties squirming and trying desperately to cover my frantic giggles from waking my parents while a glowing, boxer-clad Sam straddled my hips and threatened me with an upturned bottle of chocolate syrup.

The floor was now not only littered with utensils and ice cream toppings, but also with the majority of our clothing. Just moments ago I had been euphoric as Sam pinned me to the bed and yanked off my socks with his teeth while I laughed hysterically and gripped the bed sheets in my fists.

"God, you're such an animal, Sam," I had let slip as he growled through his teeth while my socks lay torn on the floor.

Sam had taken it into his own hands to punish me for my inconsiderate words.

"How am I supposed to kiss you Grace when your mouth is bitter from all the name-calling you do?" He mused as he snapped open the cap to the squeezable bottle of chocolate syrup. "I'm going to have to sweeten you up, angel" he continued to torment me as a long, thick string of chocolate syrup began to dangle out of the nozzle and get dangerously close to my face.

"Sam," I managed to gasp through my giggles, "Sam, stop!" I pleaded, but his yellow eyes gleamed with mischief. I managed to take a swat at the bottle just as the strand was about to drop on my face, and instead of landing on a grinning Sam like I had hoped, the gooey, colossal drop landed on my chest where it began to drip into my humble cleavage.

Suddenly all of my giggling ceased. "Sam. Roth." I attempted to whisper sternly while still trying to keep a straight face and keep the contagious giggles from returning, "if you don't clean up this mess you are dead," I continued after catching a glance of my messy room and now equally messy body.

Without breaking eye contact or muttering a word, Sam lowered his lips to my chest and snaked out his slippery, pink, warm tongue to the chocolate mess that had painted my chest a deep chestnut brown.

I gasped and tried to struggle free from his stern grip, but my attempts were futile. "What are you doing!" I managed to whisper with equal parts shock, delight, and authority in my voice.

Sam shrugged his shoulders mischievously and leaned in close until his lips were at my right ear. I could feel the chocolate staining the outer shell of my ear and he brushed his lips across it. "I'm just cleaning up my mess like you asked, angel," he whispered as he smoothed a fly-away hair from my forehead. Shivers rocked my body from my little toe to the ends of my hair and instead of calming my desire, Sam aroused it further by once again bringing his lips to my chest and planting a kiss in between my clothed breasts.

Sam brought his chocolate stained lips to mine and gave me a wet, sugary, open-mouthed peck before leaning away about an inch and whispering into my lips "now maybe your words will be sweeter next time you open your mouth."

The normal, sane Grace would have argued endlessly about freedom of speech, respect, and all other related topics, but the image of Sam's sugary lips and the feel of his hard, muscular abdomen pushing into my stomach effectively shut me up.

I could feel the sticky syrup transferring from my chest to his as he leaned in for another kiss. Bliss.

I would always learn my lesson as long as it was taught by Sam.