"Bored? With you? Didn't he just text to check on you?"

"Yes, but-"

"Are you bored?"

"Bored isn't the right word. He's uncomfortable. We're stagnate, and I can tell it bothers him."

"Maybe he's waiting on a signal from you that you're ready?"

"I have been dropping them right and left, except for mentioning America's Famous No. We have an unspoken agreement to leave it unspoken."

"Maybe you should tell him you're ready when he's ready to ask again."

"What if he's not?"

Abby made a face. "Mare, we're talking about Shep. He's probably struggling with not asking you every day."

I sighed. "This isn't about me. I'm here for you."

She frowned. "I almost forgot."

The doork.n.o.b jiggled, and the door burst open.

"Pidge?" Travis yelled. His expression crumbled when he saw the food on the table, and then he looked over at us sitting on the couch together.

Abby's eyes lit up as he rushed around the couch and knelt in front of her, wrapping his arms around her middle and burying his face in her lap.

Shepley stood in the doorway, smiling.

I beamed back at him. "You're sneaky."

"He chartered a flight back. I had to pick him up at the FPO here in town." He shut the door behind him and chuckled, crossing his arms. "I thought he was going to have a heart attack before we got here."

Abby's nose wrinkled. "The FPO? You mean that tiny airport just outside of town?" She looked to Travis. "A charter plane? How much did that cost?"

Travis looked up at her, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter. I just had to get here." He looked at me. "Thanks for sitting with her, Mare."

I nodded. "Of course." I stood, smiling at Shepley. "I'll follow you home."

Shepley opened the door. "After you, baby."

I waved good-bye to Travis and Abby, not that they noticed while he practically gnawed on her face.

Shepley held my hand as we walked down the stairs to our cars. The Charger was shining like new, parked next to my scratched and dingy red Honda. He unlocked the door, and the smell of smoke a.s.saulted my nose.

I waved my hand in front of my face. "So gross. If you love your car so much, why do you let Travis smoke in it?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. He's never asked."

I smirked. "What would Travis do if, one day, you stopped letting him have his way all the time?"

Shepley kissed the corner of my mouth. "I don't know. What would you do?"

I blinked.

Shepley's expression turned to horror. "Oh, s.h.i.t. That just came out. I didn't mean it the way it sounded."

I gripped my keys in my hand. "It's okay. I'll see you at home."

"Baby," he began.

But I was already halfway around the Honda.

I sat in the worn driver's seat of my dilapidated hatchback, starting it even though I wanted to sit there for a while and cry. Shepley backed out, and I followed him.

I wasn't sure what was worse-hearing the unintended truth or seeing the dread in his eyes after he'd said it. Shepley felt like a doormat to everyone he loved, including me.

Shepley I pulled into the covered parking spot next to America's Honda and sighed. The steering wheel whined as my white knuckles twisted back and forth. The look on America's face before, when I'd spoken without thinking, wasn't like anything I'd ever seen before. If I said something stupid, anger would be evident in her eyes. But I hadn't made her angry. This was worse. Without meaning to, I'd hurt her, cutting her deep.

We lived three buildings over from Travis and Abby. Our building was less college students and more young couples and small families. The parking lot was full, the other tenants already home and in bed.

America stepped out. The car door creaked as she pushed it closed. She walked to the sidewalk, no emotion on her face. I had learned to stay calm during an argument, but America was emotional, and any effort to mask her feelings was never a good thing.

Growing up with my cousins had turned out to be a great resource for handling someone as tenacious as America, but falling in love with a woman who was self-confident and strong sometimes required battling my own insecurities and weaknesses.

She waited for me to climb out of the Charger, and then we walked to our downstairs apartment together. She was quiet, and that only made me more nervous.

"I didn't have time to do the dishes before I went over to Abby's," she said, walking into the kitchen. She rounded the breakfast bar and then froze.

"I did them before I went to pick up Travis."

She didn't turn around. "But I said I would do them."

s.h.i.t. "It's okay, baby. It didn't take long."

"Then I guess I should have had time to do them before I left."

s.h.i.t! "That's not what I meant. I didn't mind."

"I didn't either, which is why I said I would do them." She tossed her purse on the bar and disappeared down the hall.

I could hear her footsteps enter our room, and the bathroom door slammed.

I sat on the couch, covering my face with my hands. Our relationship hadn't been great for the past few months. I wasn't sure if it was because she wasn't happy with living with me or if she wasn't happy with me. Either way, it didn't bode well for our future. There was nothing that terrified me more.

"Shep?" a small voice from the hallway called.

I turned, watching America step out from the darkness into the dim living room.

"You're right. I'm overbearing, and I expect you to give me my way all the time. If you don't, I throw a tantrum. I can't keep doing this to you."

My blood ran cold. When she sat beside me, I instinctively leaned away, afraid of the pain she would cause when she said the words I feared most. "Mare, I love you. Whatever you're thinking, stop."

"I'm sorry," she began.

"Stop, d.a.m.n it."

"I'm going to be better," she said, tears glistening in her eyes. "You don't deserve that."

"Wait. What?"

"You heard me," she said, seeming embarra.s.sed.

She disappeared back into the hall, and I stood, following her. I opened the door to our dark bedroom. Just a sliver of light bled from the bathroom, revealing the made bed and the side tables weighed down by gossip magazines, textbooks, and black-and-white pictures of us. America peeled off her clothes, one piece at a time, leaving each one like a pathway to the shower, before turning it on.

I imagined her standing outside the curtain, reaching in, the soft curves of her body shifting slowly with each movement. The crotch of my jeans instantly resisted against the bulge behind the denim. I reached down and readjusted, walking toward the door bordered with harsh florescent light.

The door creaked as I pushed it open. America had already stepped behind the curtain, but I could hear the water sloughing off her with loud slaps on the floor of the tub.

"Mare?" I said. My d.i.c.k was begging me to strip down and step into the shower behind her, but I knew she wouldn't be in the mood. "I didn't mean it. What I said earlier just came out. You're not a tyrant. You're stubborn, outspoken, and strong-willed, and I am in love with all those things. They're part of what makes you, you."

"It's different." Her voice barely carried through the curtain and over the sound of the whine of the water running through the pipes.

"What's different?" I asked, immediately pondering if it was the s.e.x. Then I cursed the sixteen-year-old voice in my head that had spouted such infantile stupidity.

"You're different. We're different."

I sighed, letting my head fall forward. This was getting worse, not better. "Is that a bad thing?"

"It feels that way."

"How can I fix it?"

America peered at me from behind the curtain, only one beautiful emerald eye peeking out at me. Water raced down her forehead and nose, dripping off the end. "We moved in together."

I swallowed. "You're unhappy?"

She shook her head, but that only partially alleviated my anxiety. "You are."

"Mare," I breathed out. "No, I'm not. Nothing about being with you could ever make me unhappy."

Her eye instantly glossed over, and she closed it, pushing salty tears mixed with the tap water down her face. "I can see it. I can tell. I just don't know why."

I pulled the curtain to the side, and she stepped back as far as she could, watching me step one foot inside and then the other, even though I was still fully dressed.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

I wrapped my arms around her, feeling the water pour over the top of my head, soaking my shirt.

"Wherever you are, I'm there with you. I don't want to be anywhere you're not."

I kissed her, and she whimpered in my arms. It wasn't like her to show her softer side. Normally, if she were hurt or sad, she would get angry.

"I don't know why it's been different, but I love you the same. Actually, more."

"Then why ..." She trailed off, losing her nerve.

"Why what?"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry about the dishes."

"Baby," I said, putting my finger beneath her chin and lifting gently until she looked up at me. "f.u.c.k the dishes."

America lifted my shirt, up and over my head, letting it fall to the floor with a slap. Then, she unbuckled my belt while her tongue flicked along my neck. She was already naked, so there was nothing for me to do but let her undress me. That was strangely arousing.

As soon as my zipper was down, America knelt in front of me, taking my jeans with her. I kicked off my tennis shoes, and she tossed them outside the tub before doing the same with my jeans. She reached up, curving her fingers until they were snuggly between my skin and the waistband of my boxers, and she slid them down, carefully pulling them over my erection. Once they slapped against the tile outside the curtain, America pulled my entire length into her mouth, and I had to steady myself, palms flat against the wall.

I groaned as the tugging suction and her grip worked together to create quite possibly the best sensation in the world. Her eager mouth was so warm and wet. Hers was the only one that made me wish I could kiss it and f.u.c.k it at the same time. For a fleeting moment, the thought that she had gone down on me to change the subject popped into my head, but it was hard to argue with her if that were the case. s.e.x with her was one of my most favorite subjects.

Her free hand reached up to cup my b.a.l.l.s, and that nearly threw me over the edge.

"I need to be inside you," I said.

She didn't respond, so I lifted her to a standing position and then hitched her knee to my hip.

She grabbed my ears and pulled me against her mouth, and I positioned myself, deciding in the moment to lower her onto my d.i.c.k-slowly since she'd already worked me into a frenzy. I lifted her other leg. Just as I moved to position myself, I lost my footing. America squealed as I reached out, scrambling for something to save us, and then I resorted to bracing for the fall. The nylon curtain ripped from the rings, only giving us half a second before my back slammed onto the floor.

I grunted and then looked up at America, her hair dripping wet, her eyes clenched shut. One jade eye popped open and then the other.

"Christ, are you okay?" I asked.

"Are you?"

I breathed out a laugh. "Yeah, I think so."

She covered her mouth and then began to giggle, making laughter erupt from my throat and rip through the apartment. Soon, we were wiping our eyes and trying to catch our breaths.

The giggles faded, and we were left on the floor, water dripping from our skin onto the tile. A droplet formed on America's nose and dripped to my cheek. She wiped it away, her eyes shifting back and forth, waiting, as she wondered what I might say next.

"We're okay," I said softly. "I promise."

America sat up, and I did the same.

"We don't have to do what everyone else is doing to be happy, right?" Her voice was tinged with sadness.

I swallowed down the lump forming in my throat. It wasn't that I wanted to do what everyone else was doing. For a long time, I'd wanted what they already had.

"No," I said. For the first time since we'd met, I lied to America.