Chapter 7 Is Sex Literally the Only Thing on Your Mind?

• The fluorescent lights of the library hummed their usual monotonous tune as I turned the final page of my biology textbook, a sense of quiet satisfaction settling into my bones. I had managed to power through most of the material in a single sitting, which meant I could finally breathe easy and redirect my focus toward the other classes that demanded my attention. This little habit of mine, studying ahead of the curve, had followed me all the way from high school, and honestly, I considered it one of my better traits. It wasn't just about acing tests, though that certainly didn't hurt. There was something deeply comforting about knowing I was prepared, about having that cushion of knowledge beneath me so that when life inevitably got chaotic, I wouldn't be scrambling at the last minute. And this year, with my plan to pick up a part-time job, staying on top of my coursework felt less like a choice and more like a necessity.
• Money had always been a bit of a tightrope walk in our household. My father worked hard, putting in long hours at his job to keep us fed and housed, and I would never diminish the effort he poured into our family. But I had my own ambitions, my own dreams that required funding beyond what he could reasonably provide. Every summer, my mother, who lived in a different state after the divorce, would call and ask if I could visit, and every year I had to come up with excuses for why I couldn't make it work. The guilt of those conversations gnawed at me, a persistent ache in the back of my mind. So this year, I had made a decision. I would find work, save every penny I could, and finally make that trip happen on my own terms. I would stand on my own two feet, prove to myself and maybe to everyone else that I didn't need to rely on anyone to get what I wanted.
• My sister Sarah had no idea about any of this, and honestly, I doubted she would care. She had always existed in her own orbit, one that rarely intersected with mine in any meaningful way. Our relationship was cordial at best, strained at worst, and the thought of sharing my plans with her felt like setting myself up for ridicule. Better to keep my head down and my ambitions quiet until I had something concrete to show for my efforts.
• A dramatic groan shattered my concentration, pulling me from my thoughts. I had completely forgotten that Ashley was still sitting beside me, her head now planted firmly against the cool surface of the library table. Her textbook lay abandoned, pages splayed open in a posture of utter defeat.
• "I hate studying," she announced to no one in particular, her voice muffled by the wood grain. "Like, genuinely despise it with every fiber of my being."
• I couldn't help the small smile that tugged at my lips. "What do you hate more than studying?" I asked, already knowing she would have a list ready.
• She lifted her head, her eyes narrowing with suspicion as she studied my face. "What?"
• "Failing," I answered simply, watching her expression crumple into one of exaggerated disgust.
• Ashley pushed herself upright, propping her chin on her palm as she leaned toward me with a glint in her eyes that I recognized all too well. That particular sparkle meant trouble, usually of the inappropriate variety, and I braced myself for whatever ridiculousness was about to spill from her lips.
• "Let me tell you what really sucks," she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper despite the fact that we were the only two people in our corner of the library. "Giving Mason Barley a blow job. That really fucking sucks."
• I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly gave myself a headache. "Is sex literally the only thing that occupies your brain cells?"
• "Maybe if you'd trade in those boring sci-fi novels for some of the good stuff I read, you'd understand," she shot back, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "Those erotic romances really open your mind to the possibilities."
• The retort sat on the tip of my tongue, ready to launch, but I caught myself just in time. There was no way in hell I was going to admit that I devoured those same books in secret, that I had more than a few tabs open in my browser that would make even Ashley blush. Some things were meant to stay buried, personal little pleasures that I wasn't quite ready to expose to the harsh light of judgment. Let her think I was some innocent wallflower. It was safer that way.
• "No thanks," I said instead, keeping my voice flat. "Being dirty minded isn't exactly an achievement worth celebrating."
• Ashley's grin only widened. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Olivia Perfect."
• The nickname hit me like a slap, and I felt my jaw tighten. "Don't call me that."
• Olivia Perfect. The name my sister had coined during one of our more memorable arguments, throwing it at me like a weapon disguised as a compliment. She had said it with such venom, such contempt, that the words had burrowed under my skin and refused to leave. And Ashley, bless her chaotic heart, had latched onto it with the enthusiasm of a dog with a new toy, using it whenever she wanted to get a rise out of me. She knew exactly how much I hated it, how the title felt like a lie wrapped in a mockery. Perfect? I was anything but.
• "I love you," Ashley declared, her voice suddenly soft as she dropped her head onto my shoulder.
• I sighed, the tension bleeding out of me despite my irritation. "I know you do."
• We spent the next hour reviewing our notes, quizzing each other on the material we had covered until the words started to blur together. Eventually, we packed up our things and made our way out of the library, the afternoon sun warming our faces as we stepped into the open air. Ashley immediately started tugging me toward the snack shop, her enthusiasm for a mid-day treat infectious enough that I found myself following without protest.
• She chattered endlessly as we walked, her words tumbling out in a rapid stream that I had long since learned to tune in and out of. Today's topic seemed to be the new neighbor who had recently moved in next door, a guy she had apparently caught a glimpse of through her window and had decided was the most beautiful creature ever to grace the planet. I listened with half an ear, nodding at appropriate intervals, though my mind was already drifting to the job applications I needed to start filling out.
• "Are you even listening to me?" Ashley asked, nudging my shoulder with hers.
• "Of course I am," I lied smoothly. "Hot guy. Next door. Very exciting."
• She huffed in mock indignation. "You're impossible."
• The thing about Ashley, the thing I had learned to accept over the years, was that her obsession with attractive men was more about the fantasy than the reality. She could talk for hours about the way someone's jawline was cut or how their eyes crinkled when they smiled, but when it came down to actually pursuing something, she always held back. I sometimes wondered if she was afraid of what might happen if she actually got what she wanted, if the reality would somehow fall short of the elaborate stories she built in her head.
• "Why do you think I dragged us to the snack shop?" she asked suddenly, her voice taking on a sly edge.
• I blinked, brought back to the present. "Because the snacks here are the best on campus? Everyone knows that."
• Ashley laughed, the sound bright and sharp. "Not even close."
• I frowned, already feeling a familiar sense of dread creeping in. Ashley had a talent for dragging me into situations I would rather avoid, and the glint in her eyes told me this was going to be no exception.
• "Then what?" I asked warily.
• "Don't tell me you haven't noticed," she said, her voice dropping to that same conspiratorial whisper from earlier. "The snack shop is always crawling with cute guys around this time of day. Every single afternoon, like clockwork."
• I let out a long, exasperated hiss, not even bothering to hide my exasperation. "I don't know why I still put up with you."
• "Because you secretly adore me," Ashley declared, slinging her arm around my shoulders and pulling me close. "You're just too proud to admit it."
• I shrugged off her embrace, but there was no real heat behind the gesture. She was right, of course. I did adore her, even when she drove me absolutely insane with her ridiculous theories and inappropriate commentary. She was my best friend, the one person who had stuck by me through all the messiness of college life, and I loved her for it even when I wanted to strangle her.
• I didn't take her warning about the snack shop seriously. Attractive people were everywhere on campus, a fact I had grown used to over the past year. The university seemed to collect them, from the pre-med students who looked like they had stepped out of a magazine to the art majors who radiated an effortless cool that made me feel frumpy by comparison. I had learned to tune out the constant parade of good-looking faces, to focus on my own goals instead of getting distracted by the scenery.
• But when we rounded the corner and the snack shop came into view, I felt my breath catch in my throat, my feet halting mid-stride as if I had walked into an invisible wall.
• There were indeed a lot of guys clustered around the entrance, their laughter and chatter carrying across the quad. I recognized most of them from various parties and campus events, sophomores and seniors who moved through the social scene like they owned it. And yes, they were handsome, unfairly so, the kind of good-looking that made you question whether the universe was playing favorites.
• But my eyes weren't searching for any of them.
• My eyes were searching for him.
• And then I found him, standing near the entrance with a group of friends, his dark hair falling across his forehead in that effortlessly disheveled way that made my fingers itch to push it back. His brown eyes found mine across the crowd, locking on with an intensity that made my stomach do a slow, languid flip. I watched as his gaze traveled down, tracing the line of my lips, the curve of my neck, the way my fingers had started trembling at my sides. Then back up, meeting my eyes again, holding me in place.
• God, those eyes.
• I bit down on my bottom lip, a nervous habit I thought I had kicked years ago, and felt my heart start to hammer against my ribs like a caged bird desperate for escape. My palms had gone clammy, my knees weak, my entire body betraying me in ways I couldn't control.
• Aiden Blacksmith.
• What were you doing to me?
• A week. It had been a full week since that night, since the party that had changed everything. A week since he had first caught my eye across a crowded room, since we had ended up alone together in that bedroom for what was supposed to be seven minutes but felt like a lifetime. A week since he had taken my first kiss, had tilted my world off its axis and left me spinning in the aftermath.
• I had been avoiding him ever since, ducking into doorways and changing my route between classes to minimize the chances of running into him. And he, it seemed, had been doing the same. I told myself it was for the best, that whatever had happened between us was a mistake, a momentary lapse in judgment that should be forgotten and never mentioned again.
• But standing here now, with his eyes boring into mine from across the crowded quad, I realized how fragile that self-deception had been. The memory of that night played on a loop in my head, the way his hands had cupped my face, the heat of his mouth against mine, the taste of him that lingered even now. I couldn't stop thinking about it, couldn't stop wanting more.
• How was I supposed to walk into that shop and act normal when just the sight of him made my hands shake and my heart race? How was I supposed to pretend that nothing had happened when every cell in my body was screaming for me to cross the space between us and pick up where we left off?
• I couldn't do this. I absolutely could not do this.
• I turned to Ashley, my voice coming out higher than I intended. "I need to use the restroom. I'll be right back."
• Before she could respond, before she could ask any questions I didn't have answers for, I pivoted on my heel and started walking. I didn't know where I was going, didn't care, as long as it was away from those piercing brown eyes that seemed to follow me even when I wasn't looking.
• My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears, a frantic drumbeat that matched the panicked rhythm of my footsteps. I felt like I was going to be sick, my stomach churning with a mixture of fear and excitement that I couldn't untangle.
• This was ridiculous. I was acting like a coward, like some timid little mouse afraid of its own shadow. Yes, I had made out with Aiden Blacksmith. Yes, he had taken my first kiss. Yes, he was my sister's best friend, completely off-limits in every way that mattered.
• But that didn't mean I had to fall apart every time I saw him.
• Was it guilt that had me running? The knowledge that Sarah had warned me away from him, had made it crystal clear that he was her friend first and foremost, not someone I should be entertaining any ideas about? Or was it fear, the terror of being caught, of having my secret exposed and being forced to face the consequences?
• Or maybe, just maybe, it was something deeper. Something I didn't want to examine too closely. The realization that what I felt for Aiden wasn't just a fleeting attraction, wasn't just the thrill of something forbidden. It was want, pure and simple. I wanted to feel his lips on mine again. I wanted his hands on my body, his breath hot against my skin. I wanted to know what it would be like to stop running and actually let myself feel everything I had been trying to suppress.
• The thought was terrifying in its intensity, so overwhelming that I felt my head start to spin. I was so lost in the maze of my own thoughts, so consumed by the chaos of my emotions, that I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. My feet carried me forward on autopilot, my eyes unfocused, my mind miles away.
• And then I collided with something solid.
• I stumbled back, my hands flying up instinctively to brace myself, and looked up to apologize. The words died in my throat.
• Aiden Blacksmith stood before me, his hands reaching out to steady me, his dark eyes burning with something I couldn't quite name. There was no surprise on his face, no shock at our sudden collision. He had been watching me, I realized. He had known I was coming, had positioned himself here deliberately, waiting for the moment I would finally stop running and face him.
• "Olivia," he said, and his voice was low, rough, like he had been holding back a storm that was about to break.
• I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. "Aiden."
• We stood there, frozen, the space between us crackling with unspoken tension. Every instinct I had screamed at me to run, to turn and flee before I did something I couldn't take back. But my feet refused to move, rooted to the ground by the weight of his gaze.
• And somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Ashley's whispered that maybe, just maybe, running wasn't the answer.
• Maybe it was time to find out what happened when I finally stopped.