Free Stripped by H.M. Ward

and trailing his hands down his neck when he's done. "Damn, I haven't been this inept in a while... I thought—"
    I shake my head, not wanting him to apologize. "It's weird, I know—"
    "It's not weird at all." He looks up at me and I can tell he means it. "You have more conviction in that one belief than I have in my whole body. So, no first kiss?"
    I shake my head as my face flames red and avert my eyes. "Not yet. I'm saving it."
    He nods and looks down at his hands before shoving them in his pockets. "Then I'll be certain not to screw that up for you. I just wanted you to know—without a shadow of doubt—how beautiful and completely kissable you are..." His voice trails off like he doesn't know what else to say.
    I glance up at him from under my lashes, careful not to meet his gaze, and smile. I can't help it. Awkward silence starts building and quickly grows bigger. I hate it and smash it back with some classic Cassie. I stomp down the steps and walk up to him. "I'd kiss you if I wasn't waiting."
    He smirks. "So, you're eighteen and never been kissed?" I nod. A wicked grin crosses his face and I can't tell if he's serious or joking. "Promise me something. When you turn thirty—if Mr. Right still hasn't swept you off your feet—come and find me."
    My stomach twists hard. The way he looks at me makes me think he isn't talking about lips on lips, but something more. I swallow hard and nod, tucking a curl behind my ear. "Don't worry, when I give up, you'll be the guy I go looking for to deflower me."
    Jonathan nearly chokes at my comment, and then we both start laughing. It pushes things back to the way they had been, which is good. I spend my entire day with him, every day. Jonathan's become the reason I get out of bed in the morning and has learned more about me than most of my friends at home. I hold everyone at arm's length, but this guy managed to get closer. It makes me wonder when I dropped my guard, and if he snuck under the fence or if I let him in.

CHAPTER 13
    JONATHAN
    Jonathan Gray is a famous painter that I've been following for a few years. I made the mistake of buying one of his pieces a few years ago and giving it to my mother as a gift. She has no appreciation of art, other than the hope that it'll increase in value. When I bought it, Jonathan Gray was a no-name, just another hack slapping paint on a canvas, as mother kindly stated.
    A few weeks later the guy became huge, like instantly famous. Mom didn't care. Suddenly my good eye was perceived as luck. Even an idiot can get lucky. That's what my family thinks of me, that I have no mind and that I'm all about flash and charm, with nothing deeper.
    After a while it's easier to give in and be what they see instead of trying to convince them that they're wrong. I admit it, I gave up. I'm the monster they made me into. Serious about nothing, and a total player.
    The past few weeks here have been different though. Something about Cassie is different. She seems to see through me. It's like she knows there's something else beneath this smokescreen I'm wearing all the time. It's like she knows I'm a fake and is okay with it. It's hard to explain, but when someone actually sees the person inside and doesn't run screaming, or try to get into my pants, I don't know what to make of it.
    On the car ride over, Cassie is quiet. I bump my shoulder into hers. "When we first met, you asked me what I did that got me banished here for the summer."
    She smiles at me. "You don't have to say anything, Jon. It's none of my business. I shouldn't have asked."
    I press my lips together for a second, as my hands get hotter. This could backfire, but I want her to know. A lot has happened in a short time, and it feels like things should go this way. If there are walls between us, I don't want them there because of me. I glance at the driver. The divider is up so I know he can't hear. "I don't mind that you asked. Actually, you're the only person who did ask. Everyone else just