The Perfect First (Fulton U, #1)(8)

As I leaned in my chair, it slid backward, hitting my desk. I slowly fell out of my daze, swinging around and staring at the post I’d just put up. It already had eighty views. If I could’ve thrown up, I would have. Shit! There was no going back now. The hyperventilating would have to wait until later.

I wanted sweaty, crazy, blow your socks off, curl your toes sex, dammit. I wanted intense feelings and to finally let go for once. This was a good thing; there was no reason for a freak-out. I flipped to a new page in my notebook. This wasn’t going to be my only first. Before I left for a life of theorems, dusty old libraries, and crushing expectations that threatened to swallow me whole, I’d make this a year I’d never forget, one I’d look back on when the freight train of my life flew down the tracks and I had no say in its destination. This was going to be the year of perfect firsts.





3





Seph





I wrapped my fingers around the light blue mug and held my phone between my ear and my shoulder. A steam trail rose from the top of the hot chocolate with mini marshmallows. I was being downright indulgent, and I was tempted to look over my shoulder for the disapproving glare of my father. It smelled like brownies and Christmas—well, how I imagined Christmas smelled from movies and display windows in stores, warm and cozy, just like this place.

Since I’d be in Uncommon Grounds, the coffee shop not too far from my apartment, for a while, I’d taken some time to read over the menu. Black coffee was my default. It was what I’d been trained to drink. My dad felt there was never time for frivolous things like sugar or milk. Not anymore. My first first.

I’d ordered a drink for each hour I’d be there and asked them to deliver them on the hour. I figured it would give me something to do with my hands while I met prospective…suitors? Dates? Bang buddies? I didn’t think they’d invented a word for exactly what this was.

“Have you gone on any dates yet?” Aunt Sophie’s melodic voice calmed some of my nerves.

“I’ve only been here a couple months.” Though, I hoped to have more than a date in a few minutes. I thought perhaps I should have ordered a muffin or a slice of the coffee cake. This place smelled like a bakery and a coffee shop had gotten into a brawl. Sitting in the booth, I could have curled up and gone to sleep—that is, if I hadn’t been about twenty minutes away from interviewing candidates for my de-virginization.

“And I’m sure your father has the timer counting down until he gets you back on the hamster wheel.” I could picture her pinched face on the other end of the line, based on how short and clipped her words were. My mom’s sister, my Aunt Sophie, was a terrible influence and a disgrace, according to my father. She was also my favorite people in the world.

“It’s not a hamster wheel. There are a lot of things I can accomplish if I keep on the path they’ve set out for me.”

“Like dying an old maid who’s only ever been surrounded by men fifty years older than her.”

“Hey, some of them are maybe only twenty years older.” I pulled my phone away from my ear, closed my eyes, and then peeked at the screen out of one before quickly bringing it back up to hear.

“Listen, if you ever want to run away from that circus permanently, you know I’ve got a futon with your name on it.”

“I think it would be more like running to the circus, at least that’s what Mom says.”

“Just because I juggle doesn’t mean I’m a clown.”

“Don’t forget the trapeze.”

“Trapeze is an excellent workout, young lady. Your mom’s actually the one who started me on all this silly stuff.” Despite being nearly fifty, she was often confused for my mom’s daughter, not her sister. I didn’t know who that said more about, my mom or Aunt Sophie.

“She did? I can’t imagine my mom ever letting loose like that.”

“Yeah, she did. I used to call her Wild One. My crazy big sister…” Her voice sounded far away like she was somewhere else, maybe a long time ago. I wished I could have known Mom before she’d met my dad. If she had been anything like Aunt Sophie, I couldn’t even imagine how she and my dad had ended up together.

Clearing her throat, my aunt quickly changed the subject. “How’s your roommate?”

“Still the same. She’s very nice.”

“You can’t lie to me, kid. She’s a colossal bitch, isn’t she?”

“We’re still getting to know one another.”

“You can’t let people walk all over you. That only leads to you raging about stuff inside your head. Loosen up and take that stick out of your—”

“Aunt Soph!” I took stock of how I was sitting in the burgundy booth and let my spine relax. Glancing around at everyone else at the tables and booths around me, I loosened my shoulders, letting them round a bit. My legs made slight squeaking sounds against the vinyl as I moved. Please don’t let anyone think I’m over here ripping farts.

People sat at high tables with their laptops, headphones on, power cords and stacks of notecards piled beside them as they pounded cups of coffee. No one even noticed I was there.

“Sorry, you’re right. I’ve got a potty mouth. But one of these days you’re going to snap, kid, and when you do, just know you’re not alone, okay?”