“Where are we going?” I asked when we got to his truck.

“Surprise,” Noah said, helping me up into the cab.

He drove west of campus in the direction of two of the city malls.

“Are we going shopping?” I asked Noah, worried that I wasn’t quite dressed for the occasion. “Because I’m wearing a cover up and flip-flops.”

He glanced over at me and said, “You’re perfect.”

For some reason this caused me to blush, and I tried to disguise my response with another question. He didn’t really think I was perfect. It was just a saying. “What’s our destination?”

“Casa de Hombre.”

“The Man House?” I translated with some amusement.

“Yup.”

“You have a pool at your house?” And I thought I lived in swanky college digs.

“Finn’s dad is in construction. He was building this house at the Woodlands.” Noah said it like I should know about it, but I didn’t.

“Never heard of it,” I admitted.

“The Woodlands is a gated community. Very rich. The guy who contracted for the house lost his shirt during the downturn, and his financing fell through. Finn convinced his dad to let him finish the house and buy it. We all contribute to the mortgage, and when we sell it we’ll split the equity,” he explained.

“Sounds all too grown up for me,” I said. I couldn’t wait to see where Noah lived. This was personal and intimate stuff, and I could barely sit still with my excitement.

Noah stopped at the gatehouse in front of a two lane street and pressed a button on a remote. The gate opened, and he waved at the attendant.

The Woodlands was aptly named. A variety of trees, none of which I could identify, hung over the streets and filled the yards of the houses that dotted the landscape. Each home looked like a private oasis of forest and green grass.

“It’s really nice back here. You have parties? Don’t your neighbors kick up a fuss?” This area looked too sedate to tolerate a bunch of college or near-college aged kids.

“We invite them or pay them off. You’d be surprised how many people won’t call the police if you give them a little money. Plus, other than the occasional party, we’re pretty good neighbors. We mow our grass and don’t keep the trashcans on the drive for too long.”

He pulled into a wide driveway that dipped down and ended in front of a large two-story house that looked primarily made of glass with a few wood beams to hold it up. The end of the drive separated the main house from another smaller structure that looked like a detached garage.

I shook my head. “I guess I understand why there are so many of you living together.”

“Yeah, it’s a pretty sweet setup,” Noah replied with pride.

We walked in the side door. Noah said, “I think Adam is practicing in his studio.” He pointed to the detached building across from the house. “Finn and Mal are watching football. The pool is empty and the games are bad.”

He led me through the kitchen and out the back door onto the patio.

“Tell me the truth. Finn whacked the buyer so he could get this house.” I couldn’t believe my eyes. The place was gorgeous. We stopped before the pool, which was laid out in a classic mosaic pattern with an infinity edge. The drop-off made the most of the forested woods behind the house.

“It’s possible. You’ve met Finn. He’s totally got that serial killer vibe,” Noah joked. Finn looked like a mischievous choirboy, innocent but with a lot of knowledge in his eyes. He probably got away with a million naughty deeds.

“It’s obvious from the start what with his illicit coffee cup in the library and his predilection for architectural design magazines. Classic signs of perversion,” I snickered.

The pool was spectacular. It had jets in the concrete on one side that arced into the pool. Attached to the shallow end of the pool was a raised, tiled round area that looked like a Jacuzzi. The pool itself was rectangular, with one end framed by a sizeable pool house. A covered deck area contained a brick oven that looked to be in disarray.

Noah led me around the scattered bricks. “Finn and Mal are building an outdoor grill, but it’s a project that has taken them all summer to get this point.”

It looked like a mess, as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to a brick wall. If this was the process of reconstruction, I worried about the houses that Finn flipped.

The pool area was empty and quiet. A large fence and barrier of trees on either side of the property shielded us from the neighbors.

“Just drop your stuff on a lounger. You can change in the pool house,” Noah directed.

“I’ve got my suit on already,” I told him. “I thought you were against water.” I had once asked Noah what his greatest fear was, after sharing that mine was spiders. He had told me it was water, but that the Marines worked that out of him.

“I overcame that fear, remember.”

He took off his shirt and jumped into the deep end. When he surfaced, he gestured for me to join him. It felt like a thousand degrees, and I was eager to cool off. I dropped my bag on the lounger, disposed of my cover up, and jumped in right next to Noah. It wasn’t the most elegant of jumps, but I didn’t care. I wanted to have fun today.

Noah and I played catch with a Nerf football and challenged each other to see who could make the biggest splash. Apparently the games inside were so bad that Finn, the serial killer, came out and challenged Noah to a race. I played the flag girl, which meant I sat at the end of the pool and yelled go and then lied about who won. Noah won every time, but I said Finn did.

After the very exhausting effort of watching two fine male specimens swim, I decided to go lie on one of the loungers. It was, I decided, one of the better afternoons of my life.

Later, Mal came out and fired up the grill that apparently worked amidst all the rubble. Adam emerged from whatever part of the house he had hidden in, and we all enjoyed steaks and beer. Bo was conspicuously absent, but I refused to let that dampen my enjoyment. Noah and I made a grocery run for s’mores fixings. I was nearly comatose after all the food.

“Can you just wheel me home and dump me on the porch? I’ll sleep there. It’ll be cooler, and I won’t have to walk up stairs,” I asked Noah, who sat next to me on an outdoor loveseat. I wanted to just pull up my feet and lay my head in his lap. I wanted to stay on this love seat replete from chocolate and marshmallows and the heat of his large body next to mine.

“You can’t expect me to drive you home,” Noah protested. “I’m at least four s’mores over the driving limit.”

I made a halfhearted slap at him and reminded him that of all of us, he ate the least and had only one s’more. “I’d hit you harder, but I’m going into a sugar coma and am losing control of my limbs.” Inwardly I was hugging myself. Noah wanted me to stay. Any nervousness I had before had been eroded by the sun, swimming, food, and company.

“We’d better get you to a safe place before that happens,” Noah said, standing up. Then he bent over and picked me up in his arms. “Get the door, Finn.”

“Yessir,” Finn slurred. He’d had many beers with his s’mores. He claimed he hated chocolate and was only able to eat it with copious amounts of alcohol. I wasn’t sure if he was serious.

“I was only kidding about the carrying business,” I said to Noah’s chest.

“You’re my guest. I don’t want you getting injured. I’m not sure we’re current on our homeowner’s insurance,” Noah joked. I could feel the rumble of his voice through his chest. If I had eaten or drunk less, I’d have protested more, but right now I felt too satiated and happy to argue. If he wanted to carry me out to his truck, I was okay with that. Only he didn’t proceed out the kitchen to the driveway. Instead, he started up the stairs.

“Are you trying to work off your s’more?” I asked.

“Nope, I’m putting you to bed.”

I started to struggle weakly. “I can’t stay here.” My protests were half-hearted, though, and Noah merely ignored them.

He carried me down the hall like I weighed no more than a marshmallow and took me into a room on the right. The room was dark and the walls seemed to be painted gray or white. I couldn’t tell in the dimness.

A large bed was positioned between two windows. Noah walked straight to the bed and laid me down on top of the gray striped comforter. He went over to a dresser and pulled out a T-shirt that had the letters USMC. “You can sleep in this,” he said, tossing the shirt to me.

I took the shirt and held it up to my face. It was cool and smelled clean. I wished it was the shirt Noah was wearing so I could be wrapped up in his scent and surrounded by the warmth of his body.

When I didn’t move, Noah said, “Should I help you? You mentioned something about non-functioning limbs.”

The offer was a joke, but an invitation lurked underneath. I wasn’t ready for that yet. “No, I think I can manage but, um, are you sure I can’t just call a cab?”

“Cab service is shit out here, and I don’t want you to leave,” Noah replied firmly.

I went to the bathroom and put on the borrowed shirt. Noah had also lent me a pair of cotton boxers that were too large in the waist. I rolled the waistband down twice so it settled on my hips, the extra fabric from the turns ensuring the boxers wouldn’t fall off. Noah definitely passed the“ not fitting into my jeans” rule.

He stood next to the bed holding the covers up for me. I exited the bathroom and slipped under them. If I were braver, with more experience, I’d have reached for him. He’d press his body into mine, and I’d run my hands over his broad back. I’d map the dips and peaks of his ridged chest, the one I’d stared at all day in the pool.

I was restless and unsatisfied, wanting something I knew only Noah could give me. My open expression was easy for him to read. Noah sank down on the edge of the bed and put one arm across my body. His head dipped low, and I saw his eyes darken. His descent was slow and measured, telegraphing that I could stop him at any time.

I must’ve known the day would lead to this, even if I hadn’t acknowledged it consciously. I placed a tentative hand on both of his forearms, braced at my sides. I felt him shudder and for a moment, I was filled with a strange sense of power. I could make him shudder for me.

I slid my hands up his arms and around his shoulders, enjoying the feel of hot flesh over hard muscle. My fingers laced around his neck. The first touch of his lips against mine was soft, almost like whispers of a kiss. His touch wasn’t tentative so much as patient. If we went any further, he was saying, it would be at my urging.

So I lifted up and pressed into him, using his body as leverage for mine. And that was enough. His arms swept around my body, lifting me flush against him. His hand came up into my hair and cradled my head against the now hard onslaught of his lips and then his tongue. I felt like he was a marauder, invading my mouth and my senses.

His other hand was braced around my ribs just under my breast. I felt my nipples tighten in anticipation of his touch. But when I thought he would move his hand, perhaps caress my breast, he stopped. He pulled his mouth away and rested his forehead against mine. We were both out of breath, but Noah was panting like he had run ten miles with his heavy rucksack.

His hand tightened in my hair and then let go. He ran his fingers over the strands, smoothing them down. I stared at him, trying to read his intentions, his thoughts, to divine the meaning of it all.

“I didn’t bring you here today for this,” he said finally. His thumbs were tracing patterns on my face, and it was hard to think or form coherent responses. I just wanted to lie down and draw him next to me. Do my own exploration.

But the separation of his lips from mine brought me a moment of clarity. Taking this path with Noah would make me far more vulnerable than I’d ever been. And suddenly the memory of the ache I had felt upon his rejection was piercing. The warm glow that had been fostered through out the day and the tender night was snuffed out by the chill of that memory.

“Don’t close up on me now, Grace,” Noah said. He held my face and leaned down to kiss me again, but I drew back.

“Maybe this is a mistake.”

“No, it’s not.” He sounded firm and convinced.

I took a deep breath. I was going to roll over and show my soft underbelly, but it shouldn’t be any surprise to him. He had to know he could hurt me. I hadn’t ever had a real relationship before, and I didn’t know all the rules and moves to make. I’d never been good at games, and I hated uncertainty even more.

“I thought I did know you, Noah, but I don’t. You show up here at Central without a word. You ignore me for two years and then you’re everywhere.” I waved a hand between us. “You even decide when we start kissing and when we stop.”

He began to open his mouth, but I interrupted, “If you really want something to work out between us, I’m going to need the whole story.”