14. Alex

ALEX

THEN – FRESHMAN YEAR- MARCH

“ I ’ve never seen you speechless,” I tease, trying to lighten the mood.

“I—well— I-I am thinking,” Freddie stutters, looking adorably flustered.

I fidget with the hem of my hoodie, sneaking a glance at him. God, he’s handsome. The way he’s scratching his jaw makes me reconsider this whole crazy plan. Maybe I won’t be able to cut off my feelings afterward.

Let me backtrack a bit. I, Alexandria Ford—four-time second-baser and definite virgin—just propositioned Freddie Donovan. Yes, you heard that right. And no, I haven’t been possessed by some sort of alien (though that would explain a lot).

It all started when I was studying at Freddie’s place. His usual hookup, Brianna, canceled on him, so he suggested I stay longer to study. That’s when my brain decided to short-circuit, and I blurted out the question I’d been mulling over since my disastrous date with Eric, followed by two equally disastrous dates with so-called “nice guys” from class.

The other two weren’t as bad as Eric, who was… pretty awful. I haven’t even been able to look at him in class since, and luckily, I haven’t seen him around much. The other dates—well, they were just boring. There was no spark, no chemistry, no tingles or feelings that made me want to throw myself at the guy right then and there. Is that too much for a girl to ask for?

Eric’s assumption that I’d basically promised him my “virtue” via text (spoiler alert: I hadn’t) freaked me out. But it also got me thinking—I don’t want to be this person anymore, this bundle of nerves at the mere thought of intimacy.

So, in a moment of what I can only describe as temporary insanity, I decided Freddie was the perfect solution. Lose my V-card to someone I trust, then move on to a life of sexual liberation and eco-friendly condoms. Flawless logic, right?

Except now Freddie’s looking at me like I just suggested we go dumpster-diving in hazardous waste. And a horrifying thought occurs to me—what if he doesn’t find me attractive at all? What if I’m so far in the friend zone, I might as well be his sister?

“Say something,” I beg.

“I mean…” Freddie begins, but I’m already in full-blown panic mode.

“Look, we don’t have to do anything!” I blurt out, words tumbling over each other like drunk college students at last call. “It was a stupid suggestion. If you’re not attracted to me and think it’s too weird or gross, we can just go back to being friends and pretend I never opened my big, environmentally conscious mouth?—”

Freddie reels back like I just told him I’ve decided to become a coal lobbyist. “Lexie,” he says, my name falling from his lips like it’s the answer to life, the universe, and everything.

“Lexie,” he repeats, as if testing how it feels on his tongue.

I blink, wondering if I’ve somehow stumbled into an alternate universe where my name is a magic spell. “Yes?”

“You’re beautiful.”

Oh. My. God. I think my heart just combusted. Freddie Donovan has officially reduced me to a puddle of eco-friendly goo. I try to remind myself that this is just a scientific proposal, like testing the pH levels of soil. Except, you know, with more nudity and potential heartbreak.

His cheeks flush, and sweet baby pandas, he looks so freaking sexy. He clears his throat and looks out the window, probably contemplating his life choices. “Give me a minute, Lex. I promise I’ll be back in one minute.”

He saunters to the bathroom, leaving me to face-plant into his pillow and question every life decision that led me to this moment. The minute feels like an eternity. I half expect to emerge from the pillow with a white beard and tales of my hundred-year wait.

When Freddie returns, his cheeks are back to their normal, unfairly perfect shade. He flashes me that signature Freddie smile, the one that makes me want to hug a tree and save the world all at the same time.

“So, Lex.” He chuckles. “Sorry for freaking out a little. I’ve thought about it, and I accept your proposal.”

Holy moly.

Freddie Donovan wants to have sex with me. I’m going to lose my virginity to Freddie Donovan. My eyes widen, and my palms start sweating immediately. Real sexy, Alex. Nothing says “take me now” like clammy hands and a shocked expression.

Oblivious to my internal meltdown, Freddie paces his room like a caged tiger. “I want you to lose your virginity to somebody who loves you, and I do. You’re the best friend I have.”

My chest tightens, each breath feeling like I’m inhaling shards of glass. I force a smile, ignoring the bitter taste of irony. Isn’t that exactly what I asked for? So why does it feel like someone reached into my chest and squeezed my heart?

“I think we should agree this is a one-time thing,” he continues. “I don’t want to lose you, and I think this could complicate things between us.”

I nod again, wondering if I’ve forgotten how to speak English. “Yes. Right. One-time thing. That’s what I was thinking. Then no sex, no kissing, no spooning, or other…fondling.”

He raises an eyebrow, looking annoyingly sexy. “Define fondling.”

Is he being serious?

He’s looking at me with an intensity that makes me realize he is. “I—well, you know. It’s when I would, well, grab or maybe suck?—”

Freddie bursts out laughing, and I glare at him, secretly relieved he broke the tension. He sits next to me on the bed, and suddenly the air feels charged, like we’re in the eye of a very confusing, very hormonal tornado.

“Seriously, Lexie,” he says, his voice softer now. “I think those rules are good. Smart.”

My brain, ever practical, kicks in.

“Wait,” I blurt out. “When was your last STD test?”

He runs a hand through his hair. To my surprise, he doesn’t look put off. “Last week, actually. Part of the gym’s free health check I always take advantage of.”

“And?” I press, because apparently, I’m committed to this awkward line of questioning.

“All clear.” His lips quirk up. “You?”

“Got tested at my last check-up. All negative.” I take a deep breath, willing myself not to blush. “And I’m on the pill, so…”

“Good to know,” he replies, his voice low, but his eyes are dark in a way that makes my stomach flip.

“Okay,” I manage.

“Okay,” he echoes.

We sit there for a moment, the silence stretching between us. Finally, I blurt out, “Well, shall I take my clothes off then?”

His eyes widen comically. “You want to do it now?” I tuck some hair behind my ear.

“Why not?” I say, trying to sound nonchalant and not like I’m about to hyperventilate. If we don’t do this now, I’m worried I’ll chicken out. Besides, I’ve thought this through. It’s a foolproof plan:

Step 1: Lose virginity.

Step 2: Date hot college men with newfound confidence.

Step 3: Stay best friends with Freddie.

Step 4: Try not to cry when he inevitably dates a supermodel who probably speaks five languages.

See? Foolproof. What could possibly go wrong?

“I guess so,” Freddie says, taking a deep breath that makes his chest rise in a very distracting way. He puts a hand on my knee, and sweet baby llamas, his hands are warm and large. I can’t help but wonder how they’re going to feel elsewhere.

“Lex,” his voice is low and serious, like he’s about to give a TED talk on the art of making perfect toast. “I believe sex is better when both people talk.”

“Talk?” I echo, wondering if I misheard him.

“Yeah.”

“That doesn’t sound very sexy,” I point out, imagining us discussing the finer points of quantum physics mid-coitus.

“Not about the weather,” he clarifies, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Oh really?” I ask sarcastically, because apparently, my default setting is smartass, even when I’m about to lose my V-card.

He tilts his head, looking annoyingly attractive. “Really.”

I suck in a breath as his hand strokes my thigh, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Suddenly, I’m very interested in this whole talking thing.

“It’s better when you both say what you’re enjoying or not enjoying, if you want more or less of something,” he explains. “And of course, if you want to stop, you just have to say so, and we will.”

“Okay,” I squeak, my earlier bravado evaporating. Holy shit. I am going to have sex with Freddie Donovan.

“I like this,” I offer lamely, glancing down at his hand on my thigh.

Freddie grins. “That’s the spirit.” He stands up, and a wave of heat rushes over me. My body is very on board with this plan, even if my brain is still short-circuiting. He dims the lights to just the right level, and I try not to think about how he clearly knows the optimal mood lighting for deflowering socially awkward college students.

He pulls off his hoodie, revealing strong, tanned arms under a tight white T-shirt. I shift, feeling like I’m starring in my own personal National Geographic special, “The Mating Rituals of the College Student.”

“Take off your hoodie,” he instructs, and something in his low voice makes my skin tingle.

Of course, because I’m me, I manage to get tangled in it. The fabric catches on my earrings, and I make a frustrated sound.

Freddie laughs—not mockingly, but low and warm, sending heat straight through me. “Here,” he murmurs, his fingers gentle as he untangles me. When he finally pulls the hoodie free, his eyes are dark with want.

I expect him to kiss me right away, but he just looks at me for a moment, like he’s memorizing something. Then his lips brush against my neck, barely touching, testing. The gentleness of it makes me shiver.

A small sound escapes me—embarrassingly needy—but Freddie’s response is immediate. He kisses me again, open-mouthed this time, trailing down to my collarbone.

“Do you like this?” he whispers against my skin.

“Yes,” I breathe, afraid to move, afraid to break whatever spell this is. I’ve fooled around before, but this is different. Every touch feels electric, important.

His hands find my waist, thumbs tracing circles on my hip bones as he explores my neck with his mouth. I make these little gasping noises that should mortify me, but the way Freddie growls in response makes me forget to be self-conscious.

When he pulls me onto his lap, we’re face to face, and oh. Oh. I can feel how much he wants this—wants me—and suddenly this feels very real. I’m about to have sex with Freddie Donovan.

I shift on his lap, and he makes a sound that shoots straight through me.

I lean in and catch his mouth, something primal taking over. This kiss is different—deeper, hungrier, like we’re both trying to consume each other. His hands tangle in my hair as he pulls me closer, and I forget everything else exists.

Freddie kisses like he’s trying to ruin me for anyone else. His tongue slides against mine, teasing, tasting, and his fingers dig into my hips like he’s afraid I might disappear. I rock against him instinctively, chasing more friction, more contact, more everything.

When his hand slides under my tank top, my breath catches. His palm is warm against my skin as he cups my breast, thumb circling experimentally. The sensation shoots through me.

“Good?” he asks, voice rough.

I try to nod, but he shakes his head. “Tell me, Lexie. I need to hear you.”

“Yes,” I breathe. “God, yes. Don’t stop.”

He makes a sound—half growl, half groan—that makes heat pool low in my stomach. His mouth finds mine again as his hand continues its exploration, and I can feel how much he’s holding back, how careful he’s being with me.

Freddie pulls back slightly, eyes dark with want. His fingers find the hem of my top, hesitating. “Can I?”

I nod, lifting my arms. He peels the fabric up slowly, like he’s unwrapping something precious. When he reaches my bra, his breath catches.

“Fuck, Lexie,” he murmurs, tracing the lace with his fingertip. His touch is so light it makes me shiver.

I arch up so he can reach the clasp, and his hands are surprisingly gentle as he undoes it. When the bra falls away, his expression makes my heart race—like he’s seeing something incredible.

Before I can feel self-conscious, he’s pressing me back into the mattress, his weight deliciously heavy over me. The feel of skin on skin sends electricity through my body.

“My god, Lexie…” he breathes, looking at me like I’m something extraordinary. His hands trace patterns on my ribs, my stomach, learning every curve.

I run my palms over his chest, exploring the muscles I’ve tried so hard not to notice during our study sessions. “Is this okay?” I ask softly.

The smile he gives me is tender yet laced with hunger. “More than okay.” His voice comes out rough, each word charged. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

I barely have time to absorb his words before his mouth claims mine again, hot and demanding, pulling me into his orbit. His hands slide lower, squeezing my thighs as he urges them apart, the warmth of his touch searing even through my leggings. A shiver races through me, and I gasp, helplessly arching toward him.

When his fingers find that sensitive spot, a surge of pleasure bolts up my spine. “Oh,” I breathe, tipping my head back, unable to hold back the response that he draws from me.

He grins against my neck, his warm breath brushing my skin before he trails a line of kisses down to my chest. When his mouth finally meets my breast, a whimper slips out, unbidden. His tongue moves in deliberate, slow strokes, teasing me, and every nerve in my body thrums, heat pooling in my center as I melt against him.

Boldness I didn’t know I had pushes my hands to explore his body, tracing the curves and lines with a newfound curiosity. When I reach for him, he catches my wrist gently, holding it with a tenderness that contrasts with the strain in his voice.

“Not yet,” he murmurs, his eyes intense. “Let me take care of you first.”

His thumb hooks into the waistband of my leggings, his gaze meeting mine, searching. “Can I?”

My fingers tremble as I peel off my leggings, leaving myself fully bare in front of him. Vulnerable, exposed. This is Freddie Donovan, my best friend—and now he’s looking at me with a quiet awe that sends a rush of warmth to my cheeks.

Freddie’s gaze travels over me, slow and deliberate, like he’s studying every inch, savoring every detail. His look alone makes heat blossom across my skin, and I can feel my heart pounding as he takes me in.

“You’re gorgeous,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse with desire.

Before I can respond, his lips press against my stomach, trailing lower, each kiss drawing another spark of heat through me. My body arches of its own accord, instinctively leaning into his touch. He pauses at my hip bone, lifting his head to look up at me through his dark lashes, a question in his eyes, a silent promise that makes me catch my breath.

“Let me make you feel good,” he says softly. “Is that okay?”

“Yes,” I breathe, already trembling with anticipation. “Please.”

He settles between my thighs, pressing a kiss to my inner knee. “Tell me if you want to stop.”

“Freddie,” I manage, propping myself up to look at him. “Don’t you dare stop.”

His answering smile is wicked, predatory, and then his mouth is on me. The first touch of his tongue sends pleasure coursing through my body like electricity. I fall back against the pillows, a moan escaping my lips.

He drags his tongue across my slit slowly, licking his way to my clit. When he reaches it, he swirls his tongue around it, agonizingly slow.

He hums approvingly, the vibration making me gasp. His tongue moves in slow, deliberate circles, building a rhythm that has me clutching at the sheets. When he slides lower, tasting me deeply, I cry out his name.

“God, Freddie…” My voice is barely recognizable, breathy and desperate.

Lost in sensation, I arch as he slides a finger inside me, curling it in a way that makes pleasure spark through my entire body. When he adds his mouth again, sucking gently, the dual sensation is overwhelming.

“Freddie,” I gasp, fingers twisting in the sheets. “I’m close… I?—”

“Let go, Lexie,” he murmurs against me. “I’ve got you.”

And with those words, I shatter. The orgasm rips through my body, leaving me trembling and gasping for air. Freddie works me through it gently, until I’m a boneless puddle on the bed.

When I open my eyes, Freddie’s watching me with an intensity that makes my heart race. He moves up my body, pressing soft kisses as he goes.

“That was…” I trail off, unable to find words.

I feel the warmth of Freddie lying beside me, his hand tracing soft patterns on my hip. Even this light touch sends gentle aftershocks through my body.

After a moment, he turns to me. “Do you want to keep going? We can stop here if you want.”

I nod. “I’m ready.” The smile he gives me makes heat pool low in my stomach. He kisses me deeply, and I can taste myself on his tongue.

“Only if you’re ready,” he murmurs against my lips.

“I want you,” I breathe, pulling him closer.

He positions himself over me, his eyes locked on mine. The intensity of his gaze makes my heart race. “Tell me if anything doesn’t feel good, Lexie.”

I nod, nervous yet wanting this—wanting him—more than I’ve ever wanted anything. “Just…go slow?”

“Of course,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “We’ll take it at your pace.”

As he starts to push in, I tense up involuntarily. It’s not painful, exactly, just…different. It’s intense—the stretch, the fullness, the way my body tries to adjust to him.

“Breathe, Lex,” he whispers, his voice strained with the effort of holding still. “You’re perfect.”

I take a deep breath, willing my body to loosen up. “Sorry, I’m just…you’re kinda big, you know?”

He chuckles, the sound rumbling through my chest. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

I focus on his face above me, the tenderness in his eyes, the way his muscles tremble as he holds himself back. Slowly, inch by inch, he pushes deeper. The stretch is intense, bordering on uncomfortable, but not quite painful. My body gradually relaxes, accepting him.

We both exhale shakily. His forehead drops to mine, and for a moment, we just breathe together.

“ Fuck , Lexie,” he groans, his voice raw. “You feel incredible.”

“Oh,” I whisper, surprised by how right this feels. How complete.

“You okay?” His eyes search mine, full of concern even as his body trembles with the effort of holding still.

I nod, finding that I am. More than okay. “Yeah. It’s... different, but good.”

“Just good?” He raises an eyebrow, and even in this intense moment, I catch a flash of that signature Freddie charm. “I think we can do better than that.”

Before I can respond, he starts to move—slow, gentle rocks of his hips that send sparks of pleasure through my body. As I adjust to him, any discomfort fades into building warmth.

“Oh,” I breathe, my eyes widening at the sensation. “ Oh .”

His lips find my neck, trailing kisses up to my ear. “Better?”

Instead of answering, I pull him down for a kiss, deep and desperate. He responds immediately, his tongue sliding against mine as he picks up the pace.

When I wrap my legs around his waist, the angle changes and suddenly—”There,” I gasp, stars exploding behind my eyes. “Right there, Freddie.”

He groans my name, hitting that perfect spot again and again until I’m falling apart beneath him. My hands clutch at his back, his shoulders, anywhere I can reach.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmurs, his voice strained. “So perfect.”

The praise sends another tremor of heat through me. I’m babbling now, a stream of “yes” and “please” and his name, over and over.

The pressure builds low in my stomach, more intense than before. “Freddie,” I pant. “I’m close…I?—”

“Lexie,” he urges, his rhythm growing erratic. “Come for me, Lexie. I want to feel you.”

His voice pushes me over the edge again. The orgasm courses through my veins, more powerful than anything I’ve ever felt. I cry out his name as pleasure ripples around me.

Dimly, I hear Freddie groan, feel him tense above me as he follows me over the edge. His face in that moment—eyes squeezed shut, lips parted, completely undone—is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

He collapses beside me, pulling me close as we both try to catch our breath. For a long moment, we just lie there, tangled together, hearts racing in sync.

“ Wow ,” I finally manage.

“Yeah,” he agrees, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Definitely better than ‘good.’“

As my breathing steadies, I become aware of the pendant resting between us, the metal warmed by our skin. I reach to adjust it, a habit so ingrained I barely notice doing it anymore. Freddie catches my movement, his fingers following mine to trace the silver chain.

“You never take this off, do you?” The tender curiosity in his voice makes my chest tight.

“Emma gave it to me,” I whisper. Most people change when they hear about Emma—get uncomfortable, look away. But Freddie just nods. His thumb traces the delicate leaf design, and I find myself adding, “She said it was for the hearts that burn for justice. That I had a heart like that.”

“She was right,” he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to where the pendant rests against my collarbone. The gesture is so tender it makes my eyes sting.

I turn to face him, suddenly shy despite everything we’ve just done.

“You okay?” he asks, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

I nod, feeling wonderfully floaty and complete. “More than okay.”