Free Secondhand Heart by Kristen Strassel Page A

there, catching our breath, our hands reaching out for one another just to make sure we were still real, not saying anything for the longest time. Every so often, I’d have a thought that I couldn’t find the words for, so I’d just kiss him instead to get the answer.
    We never moved off the landing, I rested my head on his shoulder and dozed off, feeling safe for the first time in a long time with his strong arms wrapped around me, our legs tangled in an impossible knot.
    My eyes opened just enough to be startled by the brightening gray sky announcing morning through the skylight. Fuck, it was tomorrow already.
    “Cam,” I whispered. He had to let me go. “I’ve got to go home.”
    “No, you don’t.” His eyes didn’t even open. “Stay with me.”
    His words made me want to put my head back down and lay with him, naked at the top of that staircase, forever. “I have a stupid math test this morning.” Way to ruin a good thing, community college.
    “That sucks.” He opened his eyes and rolled over on to his side. I rolled back on to my knees, collecting the trail of my clothes we’d discarded just hours before. Putting your clothes back on with an audience was nowhere near as sexy as taking them off. I almost wanted to shy away from him, but Cam didn’t think my show was as much as a lost cause as I did. He watched my every move. “You can’t stay just a little bit longer?”
    “If my ass isn’t in that seat at eight, I can’t take the test. If I can’t take that test, I wasted my entire summer for nothing.” I leaned back over in kiss him, just in my bra because my shirt was still downstairs. Cam pulled me back down, his fingers lingering too long against my bra hook. If he undid it, I could kiss this class goodbye.
    And at that moment, I wasn’t even sure how much I cared.
    Suddenly, he slapped my ass, and we both cracked up laughing. “Go take your test. We’ll celebrate tonight. At the bar. I have an open mic night and I would love some company.”
    I forced myself back upright. “Celebrate what?”
    “Your math genius.” He shook his head like it was obvious. “Go, before I change my mind and never let you leave.”

S o many times I’d snuck in the house in the early morning hours, after meeting up with Jordan, and doing things that would have gotten us locked in our respective rooms for the rest of our lives. Our parents had been kind of naive, in our defense. They let us have sleepovers, like in the same room, until we were thirteen. If you’re a parent reading this, here’s a newsflash for you: thirteen is way too old for innocent coed sleepovers. It took ours that long to catch on. At least Jordan did eventually make an honest woman out of me.
    But never once sneaking back in from Jordan’s house did I ever run face to face with my dad in the kitchen.
    Fuck.
    His mouth dropped when I came in, and his free hand steadied his coffee cup. I might as well have hung a “freshly fucked” sign around my neck. It was just obvious. I wanted to die.
    “You were out late.” He probably didn’t mean to frown, but he did.
    “Yeah, I fell asleep watching the movie.” He was never going to buy that.
    He grunted against the cup, and didn’t make eye contact with me. I took the stairs two at a time to get away from him. I ducked into my room, grabbed my pjs, and headed straight into the shower before my mother woke up. I pulled my shirt up over my head, the scent of Cam’s arousal clung to me.
    I left my house as soon as I got dressed, opting to get my coffee and breakfast out than face anyone else I lived with. I texted Bree, those kids woke her up at the crack of dawn every day, to tell her about my night.
    You need to get a babysitter. Cam’s hosting an open mic night tonight, and I don’t want to sit there by myself while he’s on stage. I pleaded with her.
    Are you sure? It’s not like a date date? I’ll do my best. No one ever wants to watch these kids. I can’t really blame