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I was already in my pajamas when the doorbell rang. It was just before ten, so even if my parents had been home, they technically couldn’t have objected.
I knew it had to be Nick. And I’m pretty sure I didn’t mind.
I yelled for Peter to get the door. Then I scrambled around, quickly throwing on the new b*a Joyce recently fitted me with (36C!) and then pulling a sweatshirt over the whole thing.
I was just starting to leave my room when someone knocked on my door. Of course Nick knew the way—we’d spent some quality grope time in my bedroom already.
But it wasn’t Nick.
And there was chocolate.
Matt looked really ... good. He was wearing a gray sweater, and his hair was all mussed, and he had on jeans and sneakers, and I have no idea why that all seemed so attractive, but at the mome
