Chapter 8: Second Favourite

I turned off the burner, and Caleb left without explaining.

I decided to count that as an apology.

The next afternoon at five, I climbed the stairs of Harlan Hall to the roof, where the door sticks and the wind never stops.

He was already there, sitting on the low wall with his coat folded beside him.

He didn't say hello.

He held out his hand, and I took it, and he pulled me down onto his lap so fast that my bag hit the gravel.

"You're cold," he said.

"It's October."

"Be warmer."

"I'm working on it."

He kissed me, and this time it started slowly, almost carefully, and I had a moment to think that he was learning something.

Then his hand slid into my hair, and the careful part ended.

I pushed his shirt open, one button at a time, because he likes to be looked at and pretends he doesn't.

Under it he was warm and hard and perfectly built, and I spread my palms flat on his stomach and felt it jump.

"Sabrina," he said, rough.

That was the first time he had said my name like that.

I filed it away in a place I would be thinking about for a week.

He tugged my sweater up over my head and dropped it on the wall.

The wind went across my bare shoulders, and he put his mouth where the cold had been.

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