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cadence match ing mine.
    I forced myself to take a deep breath before pulling my mouth from his. I placed one final soft kiss on his lips.
    “Wh-why’d you stop?” he stuttered, searching my face for answers.
    Because you completely disarmed me.
    “Will you be here tomorrow?” I coyly smiled. I knew he wo uld be; I’d already asked Josh.
    “Uh . . . yea, I’ll be playing a set tomorrow.” He se emed shaken, and I liked that.
    His hands remained on m y hips, mine thumbs in his belt loops.
    “K, I’ll see you here tomorrow,” I said as I removed my thumbs and grazed them across his tight stomach, “you better get back inside to get your stuff.”
    He let out a chuckle as he gave my hips a tight squeeze and placed a kiss just under my ear lobe. Why, yes, dessert sounds great. . .
    “See you tomorrow, Ember.” He turned and shuffled back to Finnegan’s with his hands in his pockets as I balanced myself against my car.
    I listened to “Heaven When We’re Home” twice on the way home from Finnegan’s, and once in front of my apartment. Each time the intro filled my car, my body craved Bo Cavanaugh. I floated up the stairs and poured myself into bed, where I drifted off to the most relaxing sleep I’d had in nights. I woke with a smile on my face and the lingering memory of his kiss on my lips.

 
Chapter Four
     
    I’d forgotten to text Monica when I got home. That was a mistake. My post-first-kiss-smile faded as I saw roughly fifteen “are you ok?!” texts from her on my phone. I called her immediately, lest she send the police knocking.
    “Mon, I’m fine. More than fine, his kiss . . . ”
    “November! You may not kiss strange men in a parking lot and not let me know you got home safe!” Her tone was the only reminder I needed that I bro ke the best friend safety pact.
    Oops.
    “Not strange men , Monica, God. Not even strang e, it was Bo . . . ” his name fluttered in the air for a second before Monica continued her verbal chastising .
    “Well, anyway, spill it!” Monica’s desire for details outweighed her anger.
    “On the deck, we just talked. When we walked to my car…” I trailed off as the memory temporarily satisfied my still-hungry lips .
    “Wha t?” Monica squealed.
    “It was just amazing, Monica. I haven’t felt that way ever . When I pulled his lips to mine . . . ”
    Monica cut me off, “You initiated it? That’s so aggressive, Ember!” Her pitch was window shattering.
    “And that’s so fifties, Monica. Anyway, we were alive in it, like we’d done it a million times before. Don’t worry, I’m the one that pulled away first; wanted to leave a little appetite for tonight. I didn’t even give him my phone number.” I was proud that my parents taught me to love passionately, with responsibility.
    “Well, at least we know he won’t stalk you on F acebook,” Monica said snidely.
    “Fucking Facebook ,” I snarled cynically and hung up the phone.
    After our college graduation, Adrian updated me on Facebook about life at Harvard a few times in private messages, and wanted to know if we could “catch up” on the Cape sometime (he was less than 2 hours away). I found my mind wandering to a place that had us being a hot little power couple, he as an attorney for those less fortunate, and myself managing his office and all. Adrian and I always made sense “on paper” in that way; our brains, our looks, and our determination. I quickly pushed those daydreams aside and told him that I thought it best that we got on with our live s and I deactivated my account.
    Maybe it broke his heart; I didn’t ask and he didn’t tell. I do know that we would have hurt each other in the end because, judging by all of his cute little Facebook albums, he was after girls that were pretty enough to make an impression, but dumb enough not to challenge him. Screw that.
    I spent all day cleaning and organizing my kitchen in an effort to pass the time until I would get to see Bo again. Of