**FAIR WARNING: YOU WILL HAVE TO BE PATIENT WITH CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT, BUT IT IS THERE, AND WORTH THE READ. IF YOU ARE OVERLY SENSITIVE, DO NOT READ THIS BOOK*
Logan Pierce and Noah Locke are sworn enemies. Both at the top of their class, holding t...
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Despite growing up in a time where rom-coms rule, and still being a girl who would over-fantasize about being with the world's hottest man (someone like Michael B. Jordan, obviously), sex was something that often frightened me.
Thanks to the lackluster American education system, sex ed didn't really help. When it came to my parents, they avoided the birds and the bees discussion like it was the fucking plague. I wasn't even upset at them for that because I decided that it would be one thousand times more uncomfortable for my parents to try to give me the sex talk, than it would be to just figure it out as I went.
And so I did.
I couldn't say sex was or wasn't on my mind, but it was prom night. It was the ultimate cliché, and it was sort of perfect.
The penthouse suite was fucking insane. Noah was so rich sometimes, it was easy to forget how different our worlds were. Both with our own different sets of challenges. We'd gotten through several together.
I was getting undressed in the master bedroom, which Noah had pointed me to. I was going to meet him on the balcony once I was out of this prom dress, which honestly, would be such a relief. Peeling the high heels off my feet was already blissful the moment I walked into the room.
My mind was incredibly susceptible to over-thinking. Which is why I assumed I'd be panicking right now. Freaking out about the fact that I was getting ready to spend the night in a fucking dream of a penthouse suite with someone who, quite literally, felt ripped out of a dream and made for me.
But I wasn't. My mind didn't falter once. Sex didn't pop up in my mind to freak me out, or make me question if I'd shaved my legs enough, or if every part of my body was absolutely sparkling clean, as perfect as could be. Like a Barbie doll. It was a false standard that many women believed they needed to fit into a certain category in order to be desired, to have their body be respected, and treated with tenderness in bed rather than to be used as an object of some man's lackluster affection, or his horny needs. It was ridiculous to think that you needed to change any part of yourself, even your hairy fucking legs, for a man to look at you and your body, and your mind and think that you are the most beautiful person he's seen.
Noah was the most beautiful person I'd seen. Inside and out.
Yes, it felt like a dream. I could've been caught up in questioning, once again, why he settled with me. I found myself bringing up how unworthy I felt when I joined him out on the balcony, wrapping him up in my arms first, as if I could keep him there, like a present.
I didn't expect perfection from Noah, and I knew perfection wasn't a true thing one could achieve.
But to me, he was perfect. When we fought, he was still perfect. When he was an ass, he was still perfect. And it wasn't because he was never wrong, it was simply because, in my eyes, there was very little that could stir my heart away from his. We were tethered together. It felt as though I'd known him for a lifetime.
