Slow It Down

Part 1 •REWRITTEN•

At the elevators, we find a handful of other students hauling suitcases, boxes, and totes full of their own belongings, waiting for the doors to open.

Kayce stands in front of us, tapping his foot impatiently. He glances over his shoulder at Natalie. The smirk on his face is enough warning—he's about to say something to one-up her last remark.

"Honestly? Probably not," he says, deadpan. "Sex and football help with my endurance, though. What about you?"

"You ever think of shutting up?" she quips.

Kayce's smirk grows as he glances forward again. "You ever think about growing?"

Natalie glares, but I can see the glint of playfulness in her eyes. "You ever think about not being an asshole for two seconds?"

"I try," he shrugs, "but I get bored." I'm concerned with how genuine he sounds.

The elevator finally dings, and the doors slide open. The students ahead of us start piling in, and it's clear there's not enough room for all three of us to fit.

Kayce sighs and steps back. "We'll take the stairs."

I barely suppress a groan. "We're on the fourth floor."

He smirks. "It wouldn't be hard if you had the same endurance as my football and sex filled one."

His reply is more towards Natalie and to mess with her. With that, he heads toward the stairwell, jogging up the steps like he's out for a casual stroll. With a fifty-pound tote.

I glance at Natalie, who stares after him, matching my own look of shock. Her lips form into a small pout, which only makes me laugh before linking my arm through hers.

"Don't worry," I say, dragging her toward the stairs. "You'll get him next time. Now let's try to catch up with our low endurance."

Natalie scoffs. "We both know you're the one with low endurance here." She gives me a knowing look. "When are you finally gonna experience having a man touch you in ways that'll make you say and do things you never thought you would? Because I swear, this one guy had me—"

My face burns red.

I know exactly where this conversation is going, and I refuse to let her finish.

Yes, I'm an eighteen-year-old girl who has only been kissed once. The most sexual thing I've done is sit through an awkward movie scene where two people breathe dramatically while bouncing around under the covers.

Even then, most of those scenes don't actually show anything. Just a flash of skin, an occasional nipple or buttock, some heavy panting, and a whole lot of implication.

And if that's all I'm missing out on, I have no problem waiting.

Waiting for what? I'm not sure.

I know I don't want to wait until marriage. I want to at least have some experience beforehand—to know what to expect, to know what I'm doing.

But I also don't want my first time to be with a complete stranger. Or any of my times, for that matter.

The thought of someone seeing me like that, completely vulnerable, sends a wave of anxiety straight through my chest.

Luckily, my thoughts distract me enough that I miss whatever explicit detail Natalie was about to share. By the time we reach the fourth floor, we're both breathless.

I really need to work out more.

Kayce is already halfway down the hall, standing outside a door on the right, flipping through his keys. He doesn't even look winded. If anything, he looks annoyed that we took so long.