counter at work anyway—then stood and stared around my living room like I’d never seen it before. I felt like I should do something to … prepare. But damned if I knew what.
To distract myself from the endless list of things I suddenly realized I didn’t know about sex—not the science stuff, the real stuff; stuff I’d never really contemplated, but that now seemed vital—I made my bed. Then brushed my teeth. Then changed out of my boring cotton underwear for a pair of slightly less boring cotton underwear, silently cursing the embarrassment that had kept me from buying actual grown-up clothes when Emma had dragged me into Victoria’s Secret a couple of months earlier.
When none of that helped, I glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. T-minus nine minutes, and counting. It would take five just to boot up my laptop. So I sat on the couch and pulled out my phone. Then did the unthinkable.
I called Sabine.
The mara answered on the third ring. “School doesn’t start for another twenty-one hours, Kaylee,” she groaned. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to Beck yet.”
“I know. I, um … I need some advice.” I closed my eyes and put one hand over them, silently cursing myself.
“From me?” She couldn’t have sounded more surprised if she’d woken up bald and toothless.
“I wouldn’t have called you if I had any other options, but Emma’s at work, and my mom’s dead, and Harmony’s … well, she’s Nash’s mom, so that’s out of the question. And that only leaves you.”
Bedsprings creaked again—was I the only one who got up before lunch?—and her hand scratched the receiver as she covered it. I couldn’t make out whatever she yelled at her foster mother, but it definitely wasn’t … polite.
Then a door slammed and most of the background noise died. And Sabine was back.
“I’m assuming this is about sex. If I’m wrong, correct me now, or this conversation is going to get really weird.”
“You’re not wrong. I have questions, and I need answers, fast. Nash will be here in—” I glanced at the clock again “—seven minutes.”
“Cutting it pretty close, aren’t you?” She sounded distinctly unhappy to hear that I was minutes away from sleeping with Nash, and I choked back the sudden fear that her answers would sabotage my first—and likely only—sexual experience.
“The opportunity came up kind of fast.”
“What aspect of our relationship made you think I’d give you advice on sleeping with Nash?”
“We have a truce!” I fell back on the couch in exasperation.
“I said I wouldn’t get in your way—I never said I’d help.”
“Please, Sabine. You’re going to have him for the rest of your life, but I may only get this one shot.” When that didn’t work, I sighed and tried from another angle. “You were right. I don’t know what I’m doing. Please help me.” Even I could hear the anxiety in my voice, so I wasn’t surprised when Sabine laughed.
“Okay,” she said, and suspicion lingered on the edge of my mind. Why would she agree so easily? “But first, breathe, Kaylee. He’s not even in the room yet, and you sound like you’re about to pass out.”
“That’s your fault.” I sucked in a deep breath and held it for a couple of seconds. “You told me I wouldn’t be any good.”
“Yeah, and I also told you it wouldn’t matter.”
But it would. I stretched out on the couch with my eyes still covered. “Look, I don’t have time to get good at this and I’d like to avoid humiliating myself. Just this once. Are you going to answer my questions, or do I need to go create the most embarrassing Google search history known to womankind?” Not that there was time for that anymore.
“Fine.” I could practically see her pouting, in my head. “What do you want to know?”
Another deep breath. “Don’t laugh, but … what am I supposed to do?”
Sabine didn’t laugh, and I almost died of shock. “Anything,” she said. “Nothing. Whatever feels right.”
“That’s a nonanswer.” And it only made me more nervous.
The mara sighed. “It’s the truth. If you don’t know what to do, don’t worry about it. Nash knows what he’s doing. Trust me.”
My stomach clenched around my ice-cream breakfast. “Could you please not remind me of the two of you together?”
“Who’s asking who for help here?”
I was regretting asking already. But there was no one else. “What about my hands? What do I do with them?”
That time Sabine laughed, but she sounded genuinely amused, not cruel. It was a nice—if suspicious—change. “Touch … whatever you want to touch.”
I groaned and squeezed my eyes shut tighter. “Anything more specific?”
“Use your imagination. But really, you can’t go wrong. He’s going to want you to touch him.” I started to ask another question, but she spoke again before I could. “Fortunately for you, the process is kind of foolproof, Kaylee. The basics, anyway. People have been doing it since the beginning of time—with no instructions. Just keep it simple.”
Right. Simple.
“Do you know how the French describe an orgasm?” Sabine asked, and the familiar edge of mischief in her voice was almost a relief.
“How the hell would I know that?” Sexual euphemisms weren’t covered by Mrs. Brown’s French II class syllabus.
“They call it la petite mort. The little death. I think there’s irony in there somewhere. At least for you.”
“Wow. Thanks for that,” I snapped. “I love being reminded that I’m about to die.”
She exhaled heavily. “You know how much this sucks for me, right? I have one thing with Nash that he doesn’t have with you. One thing. And you just called me for advice about how best to take that away from me. If we hadn’t just called a truce, I’d think you were finally learning how to play the game.”
“I’m not—” But before I could finish insisting that I hadn’t meant to rub it in her face, Nash knocked on the door, and I stood so fast my head spun. “He’s here. Gotta go.”
“Swell,” Sabine said, and her voice cracked a little on that one syllable. “But call Emma when you want to talk about it afterward. I’m not that kind of friend.” She hung up and I slid my phone into my pocket. Then I wiped sweat from my palms onto my jeans and opened the door.
Nash stood on the porch, smiling. Waiting.
His smile slipped a little when he saw my face, and a thread of doubt swirled through his eyes before he could squelch it. “Are you sure about this?”
“Yeah.” I grinned nervously. “Yes.
