"Give me your phone."

I hold my phone close to my chest, keeping it away from Arizona. "No! What are you gonna do with it?"

She throws her hands up and they fall to hit her thighs. "I can't listen to you complain about being lonely anymore. I'm downloading Tinder for you."

"What? Tinder? No way." I say.

"It's not a bad thing," Nathan says.

I shoot him a look. "You're not helping," I say.

"It gets a bad rap," he says. "But people really do find love on there. I've seen it countless times. You just have to give it a chance."

I press my lips together. "Well, I'm not one of those people."

"How do you know?" Arizona asks. "Give me the damn phone."

"No!"

She sighs. "When are you free enough to go out and meet guys the old fashioned way? You don't work a 9-5, you haven't lived here for very long, this is something you need to do. Get out there! Once you get laid, it'll calm you down a little. Maybe a lot."

"That's not why-" I huff. "I'm not gonna download this app if guys are only gonna ask me to hook up."

"They're not all like that," Nathan says.

"And how would you know?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Everyone's had Tinder at some point in their life. There's no shame in it."

"I'm not ashamed," I grumble. "I just…"

"Just give me your phone," Arizona says, then snatches it from me. "Just trust me, would you?"

I watch her helplessly as she types with determination.

"There, downloaded it. That was easy. Now… do you have any recent selfies?"

"I don't know…" I say.

"Well, I'll find some," she says, and her thumb starts scrolling. "Perfect. These are great."

I crane my neck to try and see what she's doing. "What ones are you picking?"

"You'll see," she says. "Okay, bio time. What do you wanna put? Lady in the streets but a freak in the bed?"

"Arizona!" I shrill.

She and Nathan start laughing, and I can't help but begrudgingly join in.

"You're awful," I say, sighing. "I don't know. Does it really matter?"

"It definitely matters," Nathan says. "To the worthwhile people out there, it matters."

"This is stressful," I say.

Arizona extends a flat hand. "Let me. I'll work my magic."

I flop against the back of the couch in the residents' lounge and shut my eyes as Arizona works. I hear a series of keyboard clicks, and after a few minutes she finally finishes.

"There," she says. "Check it out."

I yank my phone back from her and see what she's done. I see five somewhat recent selfies along the top of my new profile, ranging from one of me smiling in my scrubs to one of me on the couch at home with my hair up. I deem them acceptable as I scroll through, then shift my attention lower to what she's written.

April, 28

Surgical Resident

Purdue University, Dartmouth College

Less than a mile away

Looking for someone to keep up with my busy lifestyle. Easily the bubbliest, most optimistic person you'll ever meet.

I have my doctorate. Teach me something I don't know ;)

"That last part is so not okay," I say. "How do you edit?"

"No, that's funny!" Nathan says. "Keep it."

"It's inappropriate," I say. "Take it off! People are gonna think I'm only interested in…" I widen my eyes for effect.

"Oh, no, sex?" Arizona says. "Would it really kill you, April?" she asks.

"I… maybe, yes, I don't know," I say.

"Loosen up a little," she says. "Stop being so worried all the time. Just start swiping, see what's out there."

I give in, leaving the tail end of my bio intact. I start swiping through men, not finding any that I'm interested in.

"All you're doing is swiping left," Nathan says.

"I haven't come across someone I want yet," I say. "I'm picky."

"Too picky," Arizona says. "Wait, stop. Stop swiping."

With my thumb poised over the screen, I stop what I'm doing.

"Are you even looking at these guys? Look at this man! He's perfect."

I let my eyes roam the screen as I flip through his pictures. He has a medium complexion, brilliant green eyes, and a built body.

"He's arrogant," I say.

"How do you know?" Nathan asks.

"And I bet those are contacts. No way."

"What's wrong with contacts?"

"He looks vain," I say.

"Just click on him, would you? Humor me."

With some muttering under my breath, I click on his profile to reveal his bio.

Jackson, 29

Police Officer

Boston College

7 miles away

Swipe right for amazing oral sex.

"Oh, my god. No! No way."

Arizona reaches over my shoulder and swipes right before I have any say in the matter.

"Arizona, what are you-"

Movement from the screen attracts my attention back to it.

It's a Match!

You and Jackson have liked each other.

"What?"

"Your first match!" Nathan exclaims.

I throw my phone to the side, unable to look at it anymore. This is starting to feel all too real, the pressure too intense.

"Does this mean I'm gonna have to see him now?" I ask.

"It doesn't mean anything," Arizona says. "It means there can be open communication, since you both swiped right. So, he might talk to you. He might not."

"I sure hope he doesn't."

….

That night, I'm at the house I share with my roommates Meredith, Alex, and Izzie, cleaning up the kitchen. From the counter, I hear my phone make a sound I've never heard before, so I stop what I'm doing to go check it out.

Jackson has sent you a new message!

Instantly, my hands grow clammy. I don't want to read it. The last thing I want to do is read whatever that sleazeball has to say. But of course, I unlock my phone and click on the notification anyway.

You matched with Jackson on 10/27

Hey there. Interested in my proposition?

I click away from the screen quickly, feeling dirty for even looking at it, and pretend I never saw.

A few minutes later, I hear footsteps come into the kitchen behind me while I'm washing dishes. I turn around and see Alex, looking like he just woke up, stretching and scratching himself.

"Y'alright, Kepner? Looks like you've seen a ghost."

"I'm fine," I say, too quickly.

He leans against the counter and my phone makes another foreign sound. Right after the sound, Alex starts to chuckle.

"A match on Tinder… nice."

I flip around and my hair goes flying with me. "Stop looking at my phone!" I shriek.

"Hey, hey, get off my ass," he says. "It was sitting right here. And I'm not blind."

I pick the phone up and shove it in my back pocket. "Arizona and Nathan made me get Tinder," I say. "It wasn't my choice."

"Can't hurt," he says. "Plus, you already got a match. That's half the battle. I'd be more worried about you not getting matches."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask.

He shrugs. "You come on a little strong."

"I do not."

"Uh… sure," he says. "Listen. Just be grateful for the match. Do something about it. But knowing you, you won't."

I make a frustrated sound. "You don't know that."

He gets up from the stool he'd been sitting on. "Basically do," he says. "You're too chicken to meet anyone, no less hook up, off Tinder. You've only slept with like, one guy ever, and that was when you lost your virginity."

"I shouldn't have ever told you that story."

"Hey, I'm not using it against you. It's whatever. I'm just saying, Tinder's probably useless for you. You're never gonna use it."

He walks out and I'm left staring at the spot he'd been sitting, feeling defiant. He doesn't know me. He can think he does all he wants, but he doesn't know what I'm capable of.

I shut the lights off in the kitchen and stomp upstairs to my room, where I shut the door. After I'm alone, I sit on the end of my bed and open Tinder again, clicking on the chat between me and Jackson. I read his message over and over again.

Hey there. Interested in my proposition?

I stare at the screen some more, wondering what I should say. Or, if I should say anything at all. I shouldn't respond to him just to spite Alex, though I know that's what sparked my reaction. I need to think about what I really want, not what others want for me.

I go back to Jackson's profile and flip through his pictures. The first one is of him wearing a fall sweater standing outside downtown, smiling while looking to the side. Artsy. The next one is of him and what must be his mother in a restaurant; well, that's a good sign. He loves his family. The next picture is of him in a cop uniform, which makes me feel something funny in my gut.

I go back to the message screen and start typing.

Hi. I think I am.

I exit the app. I can't believe I just typed that. And sent it, no less.

A notification comes up in less than a minute, and I look down with surprise. I click on it before it can disappear.

You think? ;)

My faces flushes with heat. Two words and a winky smiley face just made me blush.

Do you want to come over?

I practically drop my phone on the hardwood floor. I don't know who I am right now. But as I look at his pictures and feel the way I do from the attention he's giving me - even this scant amount - I don't know what's come over me. My brain isn't doing so much of the talking as my heart is, or rather, my libido.

It has been a long time since I've had sex. Since med school at Dartmouth, when I lost my virginity to my best guy friend at the time. Since then, we've lost contact and I don't know where he's at now. It'd been satisfactory, not momentous at all, and it had hurt more than it felt good. He came, I didn't.

I'm not a total prude; I've masturbated before, but I don't know what it feels like to feel those things with another person. I don't know what it's like to have my body manipulated by someone else and made to feel things I've only ever given myself.

And if this guy Jackson is offering, why should I say no? I can't think of a valid reason. I've never received oral sex before, but judging by what I hear from Arizona, it's not something I should be missing out on. I deserve this. I deserve him.

My phone dings. I open it to a new message.

I'd love to. Give me your address and I can be over in thirty minutes.

I send him my address and immediately freak out. Thirty minutes?! I toss my phone onto the bed and gather a towel up in my arms, heading with purpose to the bathroom, so hurriedly that I knock into Izzie on the way there.

"Whoa, watch out!" she says, laughing. "Where's the fire?"

"I - uh…" I say. "Nowhere. Just…"

"Got a date?" she asks.

The look in my eyes must tell her everything she needs to know, because she pushes me between my shoulder blades towards the open door.

"Well, by all means, go!" she says, lightheartedly. "Don't let me keep you."

I don't have much time. I do what I can in the shower, shave what I have time to shave, but that ends up not being everything. I'm stressing about time because I don't want Jackson to get here and knock on the door and have Alex answer. I need to be down there waiting when he gets here, making sure Alex is nowhere to be found. He'll never let me live it down if he sees.

I get out of the shower, dry my hair and body, put lotion on, and try to seem casual with my outfit. I don't know what I should put on, so I choose leggings and a loose t-shirt and hope that's okay.

My stomach is in knots as I notice that 27 minutes have gone by, so I hurry down the stairs and nonchalantly linger by the window.

"Waiting for somebody, Kepner?" Alex asks, passing by as he makes his way towards the stairs.

"What? No," I say, shaking my head. "I'm just looking."

He raises his eyebrows. "Have fun, I guess."

A few moments after Alex disappears, headlights appear in the driveway. I feel like I might throw up. I tuck my hair behind my ears compulsively and put Chapstick on, then back away from the door so it doesn't seem like I was waiting and staring out the window, which is exactly what I'd been doing.

Jackson knocks. I stutter step to answer, and when I open the door, he's standing there in a long-sleeved shirt and jeans, yet somehow still looking impeccable.

"Hey," he says. "Jackson Avery. Are you April?"

I swallow hard. "April Kepner," I say. I forget my words for a long moment, a long moment we spend staring at each other, thinking about what he's come here to do. At least, that's all I'm thinking about.

"Nice place," he says, after I welcome him inside.

"Thanks," I say, trying to gain some confidence. "Um… do you want a drink?"

"I'm good," he says. If I'm not mistaken, he winks at me.

"Okay," I say. "Do you… I… we can…"

"Your room?" he finishes.

"Yes," I say, relieved.

I lead him up the stairs quickly, hoping to dodge any and all of my roommates. Luckily, none appear.

"You live with other people?" he asks, noticing the myriad of mismatching items in the hallway.

"Yeah," I say, opening my door. "Three roommates. But they won't bother us."

He chuckles as he walks inside. "I'm not worried about that," he says.

I stand awkwardly in the middle of the room, staring at him with my hands clasped together. I don't know what the next step is; I've never done this before. I have no idea what to say or where to put myself.

"So, you're a police officer," I say, still wringing my hands.

"Uh-huh," he says, surveying my room. "You're a surgeon?"

I nod. "A resident."

"That's awesome," he says. "So, you're smart."

I nod, fully owning it. I am smart. I know that. Even though, right now I feel like the exact opposite of smart.

"Why do you do this?" I ask, blurting out the words I'd been thinking since I read his bio.

"What?" he asks.

"Just offer… oral sex," I say. "Don't most guys want the whole thing? What's in it for you?"

He smiles, the corner of his lips pulling up. "Knowing what I'm able to reduce you to, that's what's in it for me. By the time I have my way with you, you'll be begging me to stop while hoping that I never do."

The back of my neck starts to sweat. I don't know what to say. Luckily, he fill the silence.

"So, shall we?"

I nod, then situate my hands around the waist of my leggings in preparation to pull them down.

"No," he says. "I'll undress you. Sit down."

I sit and watch him come closer, every step calculated. When he's standing in front of me, he takes the bottom hem of my shirt and and I lift my arms to assist, and off it comes over my head.

"I want you naked," he says, hands ghosting over my shoulders soft enough to give me goosebumps. "Is that alright with you?"

I nod. I know I won't be able to speak.

He circles his hands around my back and unclasps my bra, eyes roving over my chest once he sets it on the floor.

"Lay down," he says, and I situate myself with my head on the pillow, top half completely bare. I haven't been naked in front of a man for years, but I barely feel self-conscious. My nipples are hard in response to the cool air hitting them, but I don't cover myself. In fact, I extend my arms over my head and stretch out.

He pulls my leggings down and over my feet, then lets them rest on the end of the bed. Now, I'm left in only my underwear, which are just a pair of simple black bikinis.

He takes my hips in his hands and turns them. "On your knees and elbows," he says. "Ass up."

I look at him warily, but he's sure of himself. Of course he is. So, I do what he says. With my underwear still on, I position myself in the way he wants.

He holds my ass in his hands, running his palms up my back after a moment. My weight drops further forward as I let my forehead touch the comforter, and I gasp when he rubs his hand deftly between my legs.

I spread my knees wider and arch my back, thirsty for the attention. I hear him make a small sound from his throat, then feel warmth on my center over the thin material of my panties.

I breathe heavier, long through my nose and out my mouth with a soft moan. While his tongue runs along the fabric, his first two fingers rub tight circles higher, over the electric bundle of nerves that took him no time at all to find.

He presses his lips to the backs of my thighs, running his hands along the insides until he gets back to the apex. Once he does, he flips me over in one quick motion and I'm on my back again.

"I needed to make sure you were wet," he says, then pushes my knees apart. "You are."

I lick my lips, feeling his fingertips on the waistband of my underwear, then lift myself up to my elbows. "Wait, I…" I say, heart in my throat. "I'm not shaved."

He looks at me pointedly through his eyelashes, then gently pushes me down by my shoulder. "Lie back," he says.

When my underwear come off, I tremble as his breath hits my skin.

"Have you ever been eaten out before?" he asks, running his thumbs across my thighs.

I shake my head, letting a stream of air through my puckered lips.

"I'm honored," he says. "Are you a virgin?"

I shake my head again. "A-a long time ago."

"I see," he says. "So, you've had an orgasm before."

"Not… not from him," I say, then blink hard. "Just from…"

"Your own doing," he says. "I understand." He kisses below my bellybutton. "Let's change that."

He starts slow. His mouth brushes my outer lips and I gasp, legs tensing. He massages my thighs to counteract it, seemingly knowing how I'll react before I do.

"Relax," he says, drawing a line of kisses between my hip bones. "I know what I'm doing."

I haven't even known this man for an hour, yet I find myself trusting him. I don't know if that's me letting down my walls, or just proof that I'm incredibly stupid.

He tucks his face further between my legs, parting my thighs so he has room. When his tongue delves inside me, my spine goes slack and my fists clench the covers. I close my eyes, gasping as I feel him explore the warmth inside me.

"Open your legs," he says, coming up for a moment.

I realize that, with time, I've shrunk in on myself from the new sensations. So I widen my knees and grant him access, and he situates between them again.

He strokes my skin as he licks me, long and slow, like I'm something he wants to savor. I've never felt something like this before, and I don't quite know how to handle it.

The sounds I'm making are ones I've never heard before. Desperate whimpers, whines, and cries that I have no control over. When he slips two fingers inside me and bends them at the knuckle, his name tumbles from my mouth and I plant my feet firmly on either side of his shoulders.

He uses both his thumb and his tongue to manipulate my clit, and I can't contain myself anymore. I cover my face with my hands and lift my ass off the bed, arching until he shoves me back down and sucks harder than before.

"Oh, my god," I moan, breathing loudly. "Jackson, please, oh my god… oh my god…"

He presses his thumb deliberately against the spot and my eyes shoot open, feeling all of my muscles clench and pulsate as an orgasm ripples slowly through my body. My hips buck without any sense of rhythm, his fingers still inside me, and my breath comes erratically.

Then his lips are on my breasts, dropping kisses and licking my nipples to make them stand even harder than before. I grapple for him, trying to get a good hold around his neck so I can kiss him on the mouth, but he shies away and stands up from the bed, leaving me lying there spread eagle and naked.

I'm much too spent to care, though.

"You… can stay, if you want," I say.

"I shouldn't," he says. "I should go."

I sit up, covering my chest as I do. "You don't want… in return… you…"

"No," he says, walking toward my bedroom door. "You know where to find me."

I nod shakily. "I'll… I'll text you. Er- message you."

"Please do," he says, and raises his hand in a wave. "See you again, April."

I nod again, unable to form words. When my bedroom door shuts, I flop back on the bed, unable to believe what just happened.

But before I can fall asleep, my door bursts open and I have to rush to cover myself. I end up throwing the comforter around my body so I'm decent for Izzie, who took it upon herself to barge in with no warning.

"Jesus Christ, April," she says. "I knew these walls were thin, but you were the last person I thought I'd have to worry about. Who was that fox?"

My whole body is blushing, I'm sure of it.

"Sorry, I'm… I didn't realize, I didn't know, I'm really sorry-"

"No need to apologize," she says. "Good on you for finally getting some. Especially from someone who looks like that. What was he, a Tinder hookup?"

I want to say it was more than that, but was it?

"Yeah," I admit.

"Lucky," she says. "No one I've met on Tinder has ever made me moan like that." She points a finger at me. "You need to see him again."

I knew that before she said it.

…

"Let me guess. You deleted Tinder."

I managed to avoid Arizona and Nathan for almost the entire day, but I hear a voice from behind me as I walk out of the main doors of the hospital.

I stop in my tracks as she catches up to me.

"Yeah," I lie.

I had spent the rest of last night wondering whether or not I wanted to tell her what happened. I came to the conclusion that she'd be much too proud of herself and would never let me live it down or ignore her advice again.

Jackson is a secret I'll keep to myself.

"You didn't even give it a chance to work, April," she says. "It wasn't even 24 hours."

I shrug. "It just wasn't for me."

"Okay…" she sighs. "Not like anything else was working, either, but… I rest my case. You are as stubborn as they come."

I smile sweetly. "I try. Have a good night, okay?" I say, as I get to my car.

"You, too."

I know I will. Because I'm not going home. I'm plugging a specific address into my GPS and going to Jackson's apartment, which he shares with no one. Where, hopefully, we'll engage in the same activities as last night.

This morning, I had a message from him when I woke up. I had to turn off the sound on my phone because we've been messaging all day, about nothing and everything. Every time I get a buzz from him, my stomach feels weird and jumpy. I don't know what that's about.

His neighborhood is classy, newer than mine and more modern, too. I squint for the addresses on the apartment complexes and finally find his, which is a tall, square building.

On the way inside, I wipe my hands on my jeans. I can't stop sweating, which is a problem, and my thoughts are flying a million miles per hour. I press the buzzer and hear his voice instantly.

"Yeah?"

"Hi, um, it's me. April."

"Oh. Come on up."

I hear a loud buzzing sound and the main door comes open. I find the elevator and ride it up, and it opens right into his apartment, where he's waiting in a comfortable outfit with a soft smile on his face.

"Whoa," I say, stepping inside. "What if someone accidentally pressed the wrong floor and came right in?"

He chuckles. "Happens less than you'd think."

I take my shoes off and am left in my socks just like he is. "I brought this," I say, and extend my arms to present the bottle of wine I'd been holding.

"Oh," he says. "Thank you."

I nod.

"Would you like a glass?" he asks.

"Oh…" I say. "No, thanks. I'm not a huge fan of wine."

"No?" he says, amused. "What are you a fan of, then?"

I shrug, scanning his sculpted chest. I lift my eyes to make eye contact, but I know he noticed what I was doing. I gulp involuntarily.

"Beer," I say. "I know that's weird, and all women are supposed to like wine, and-"

"No," he says. "I feel you. I'm the same way. I'll get us some."

I wait, standing by his kitchen counter, posture stiff as a board. When he comes back, he's already opened the bottles and he takes a long swig from his, so I follow suit.

"I couldn't get you off my mind all day," he says, and my stomach jolts when he looks at me.

"Really?" I peep.

He nods.

"I thought about you… too…" I say, then connect my lips with my beer bottle again.

He chuckles. I feel self-conscious because of it.

"I'm not laughing at you," he says, undoubtedly noticing my facial expression. "You're just… you're funny."

"I'm not trying to be," I say.

"I know," he says. "That makes it better."

I chew on my lower lip, contemplating what he means.

"Thing is, you're this awkward little mouse right now. Timid as all getout. But last night… when I got you in bed…" He shakes his head. "Mmm. That's a side of you I need to see again."

My breath catches in my throat. I came here with a plan, and I promised myself I wouldn't bail on it.

"I want to do something… for you," I say. I'm so nervous that my fingertips go numb.

He raises his eyebrows. "Meaning?"

I clear my throat and set my beer down. "You were amazing last night," I say. "I want to repay you."

He leads me to his couch, which is both modern and comfortable at the same time. "I told you I don't expect anything," he says. "This was my offer. I told you everything it entailed. It's not a 'repayment' sort of deal. So, don't worry about that. I'd never expect something of you that you're not comfortable with."

He sits me down on the couch and stands between my spread knees. Somehow, we've found our way back to this position.

"Doing this for you…" he says. "Gets me off more than I can say."

"But you don't even know me," I say, shaking my hair out after he strips me of my shirt.

"I know you better than anyone in your life," he says, bending at the waist to speak directly into my ear, which gives me chills. "That's true, isn't it?"

I'm not sure how, but I believe him.

I close my eyes, bite my lip, and nod.

"Lean back," he says, and I do.

He pulls off my jeans and leaves my bra on, yanking my hips to the edge of the cushion. He lowers to his knees, making his way to my center starting at the insides of my calves, kissing his way up between my legs.

When his mouth covers me, the sounds I make are uncontrollable yet again. I throw my head back, push my hips as far forward as I can without falling off, and keep my eyes open. I find it's much hotter to watch him work, watch the way he closes his eyes, the way he moves his head, the way his strong hands grip my thighs like he doesn't ever plan on letting go.

I'm panting when he finishes, smiling breathlessly when he wipes the shine off his chin. The shine that came from my body, from what he was able to do to me.

I waste no time. I tighten my legs around his shoulders and pull him close, and his eyes flash in response. Now that I have control of him, I substitute my legs with my hands, pushing him to lie flat on the rug, and I straddle his waist.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"I might be inexperienced," I say. "But I'm not uncomfortable."

I pull down the elastic waistband of his sweatpants and the bulge through his boxer-briefs is impossible to miss.

"You're gonna give me head?" he says.

I nod. "I'm gonna make you feel the way you make me feel." I smile deviously and copy his words. "Lay back."

He lies flat with his elbows bent, hands supporting his head. I get his underwear off and his erection springs free, which is a shock.

"How long's it been since you've seen a dick?" he asks, noticing my reaction.

"I see… penises… all the time," I say. "I'm a surgeon."

"Sexually," he clarifies, though I'm aware he knows I knew what he meant.

"A long time," I admit.

"And let me guess," he says. "The last one you saw - that lucky fella who took your virginity - his didn't exactly look like this, did it?"

His cockiness shouldn't be turning me on like it is. I shake my head and chew the inside of my cheek.

"And you've never given a blowjob before," he continues.

I have no choice but to shake my head again, because he's right. It doesn't feel great to be called out on it, but I don't want to lie and look stupid later.

"I want to," I say.

We make prolonged eye contact. I think he's trying to read me, and I'm doing the same right back.

"Grip it," he says. "Not too tight. But don't be afraid, either."

I reach out to do just that, but he stops me.

"Wait," he says. "Spit on it."

I widen my eyes. "Spit on what?"

"The head."

"I'm not going to spit on you," I say.

"Fine," he says. "Spit on your hand, then grip the shaft."

I lift my palm to my face, screwing my eyebrows up at the concept. But I do it. I spit on my hand then wind my fingers around the shaft of his penis.

The skin is softer than I expected and more fluid, too. I don't mind the way it feels. I actually think I might like it.

"Move your hand up and down," he says. I flit my eyes to his and he nods me along. "Start slow. The whole thing isn't gonna fit in that pretty little mouth of yours, so you're gonna need the help from your hand."

My spit helps my skin move smoothly against his. As I start to pump my hand, I watch the muscles in his lower abdomen tense and he releases a strangled-sounding sigh.

"Good," he says. "See that at the tip?"

I look and see a bead of liquid there. I know what it is; I paid attention in health class and the human body is my thing. "Pre-come," I say.

"Mm-hmm," he says. "Get it with your thumb. Use it as lube; that's what it's there for."

When I swipe my thumb over the tip, more liquid seeps out and I collect that, too. His penis has gotten even harder under my touch, and I feel incredibly powerful. I wonder if this is how he feels when he's got his mouth on me.

"Kiss the head," he says, as I continue to stroke him. "Kiss the head, and take as much in your mouth as you can. Run your tongue along the underside… and I'm gonna try not to come watching you."

I bend at the waist and press a slow, deliberate kiss to the tip. He moans, eyes fluttering shut, and I move to take as much of him in my mouth as I can.

It tastes salty, like skin. Like something else, too, but I can't quite place it. When I run my tongue along the underside, I can feel the ridges of the veins, so I trace them lightly, with the tip of my tongue. He moans loudly because of that, and his hips buck towards my face.

I smile. I can't help it.

"Touch my balls," he says, struggling to speak. "Gentle. Tease me."

I reach between his legs and drag my fingertips over his balls while still moving up and down on his penis, my lips suctioning at the top with every stroke.

"Fuck," he curses. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. I'm coming. You wanna move. You don't-"

I pull my mouth off but keep my hands where they are, and his semen gets all over my working fingers and wrist, spurting in uneven bursts.

"Jesus Christ," he breathes, stomach moving in and out dramatically.

"Was that good?" I ask.

"Fucking amazing," he says.

…..

A week passes where I don't hear from Jackson. I text him twice - we've gone so far as to exchange numbers and I delete Tinder because of it - but I refuse to do it a third time in fear of looking desperate.

I try to get him off my mind, but I can't. I know it's stupid to be hung up on someone I met only twice, but he made me feel things I never have before. Physically and otherwise.

So, when I get a text from him asking to see me, I have to calm myself before I jump to answer. I wait thirty minutes on the dot, then read it again.

Hey April. Would you be down to talk tonight?

Down to talk. I have no idea what that means, but I know I need to see him.

Sure. My place, 9pm?

He agrees, and my excitement doesn't fade for the rest of the day. I don't know what roommates will and won't be home, but I find myself not even caring. The only important thing is that I get to see Jackson tonight.

Later, as 9pm approaches, Izzie comes home.

"Hey, honey," she says, finding me on the couch closest to the front door. She kicks her shoes off and hangs up her bag, flashing me a tired smile. "Waiting for your man?"

My eyes widen with shock. "How did you know?" I ask.

"Haven't heard you moaning since last week," she says. "Figured you're due. Also, the look on your face is one I'd know anywhere."

"I'm not desperate," I say.

"I know," she says. "Breathe."

I nod to myself, hands capped over my knees. As I'm about to say something else, the doorbell rings and I realize I didn't even see his headlights pull up.

"That's him," I say, hurrying to the door and expecting Izzie to leave when I do. I open it and find Jackson standing there with his hands in his pockets, shoulders tense. "Hey," I say. "Come in."

As I shut the door, I hear Izzie's voice. "Hi there," she says, extending her hand. "Izzie Stevens. I'm April's roommate and friend, more importantly." She smiles her signature wide smile. "She's special, as I'm sure you know. And if you hurt a single hair on her head…" She clears her throat. "I was raised in a trailer park, and I know how to knock your teeth right out. Done it before. I'll do it again. I'll wreck that pretty face of yours."

I rub my temples. "Izzie…"

"Have a good night," she says, grinning again as she walks away.

"Sorry about her," I say, ushering him upstairs.

He follows without speaking, which strikes me as odd. So, once my bedroom door is shut, I ask, "Is everything okay? What did you want to talk about?"

He sighs. "Can you promise that your roommate won't kill me?"

"Probably."

He looks troubled. Creases appear on his forehead, and I have the urge to reach over and smooth them out.

"I can't keep doing this," he finally says.

My heart drops to my feet. "What?" I say.

"This," he says. "Us. I can't."

"Why?" I ask, defensively. I suddenly feel like I've done something wrong, even though I'm not sure what it could be.

"It…" he trails off. "It's complicated. But you deserve to be with someone who's far from complicated."

I frown. "Stop being so cryptic," I say. "I don't know what you mean."

"I don't mean anything," he says. "That's the thing. That's pretty much my MO. I'm good for a single night where I blow your mind. That… our second time was not supposed to happen. And I wasn't going to let it. But you… you reeled me in, you got me. I'm not supposed to mean something to you, and I know I do… and that's what got me."

"Why shouldn't you mean something?" I ask.

"I shouldn't have done what I did," he says. "I should've known that someone like you doesn't have casual sex. It wasn't going to stay meaningless. I know you didn't want it to be meaningless, you want something. And I can't give you what you want."

"Why?"

"Why?" he repeats. "Because…" He throws his hands up. "That's just not what I do."

I frown. "So, you came all the way here to tell me you don't want to see me again."

He nods. "I guess so, yeah."

"Because you're afraid."

I don't know where this confidence of mine is coming from, but it's completely welcome.

"I'm not… no," he says. "I'm not afraid. I'm just looking out for your best interest."

"I don't think you are," I say. He's been on my mind for the past week. I've thought about him and what kind of person he is - on the inside and out. Because those two versions of him differ greatly from one another.

There were pictures in his house, ones hanging on the wall of him posing with his mother. When he was little, at his high school graduation, in his cop uniform. His college diploma was displayed. He had a sticky note on the fridge that said 'call Grandpa back!'

He doesn't want me to know that, under all this arrogance and good looks, lies a heart. And a pretty soft one, at that.

"You're not looking out for me," I say. "You're looking out for yourself. You're scared."

His mouth opens in a bewildered expression. "Why do you keep saying that?"

"Because you are," I say. "Scared. You're scared because being with me makes you feel something. Because we have a connection. I feel it, and I know you do, too. You're used to booty calls and one night stands. And now that this might be something more than that, you have no idea how to handle it. How to handle me. So you wanna just cast me aside, because that's what you're used to. You have feelings, and you're freaked out."

He sputters for something to say, but it seems I've rendered him speechless.

"You said I reeled you in," I say. "Well, guess what? You reeled me in, too. I haven't found a guy that I cared about in years. Years! Then you… you come along with your stupid, cocky Tinder bio and my friend swiped right for me. Yeah! Did you know I was gonna swipe left on you?" I plant my hands on my hips. "You're not my type. Guys like you have never been my type. I go for the nice, safe, white bread nerds. The kind of guys who write bible verses in their bios, not brag about how well they can go down on a girl. But I took a chance in meeting you. And it worked out like this." I take a deep breath. "And yeah, I'm scared too. I'm scared you're gonna hurt me, I'm scared I'm gonna hurt myself by having feelings for you. But I'm ignoring all that, because I'm trying to do something different for the first time in my life. And I think you should, too."

We spend a heated moment just staring at each other, until the air cracks and it happens. He takes my face in his hands and kisses me - kisses me with everything he has. He kisses me so hard, so passionate, that I swear I feel the life leaving my body.

When we pull apart, the look in his eyes is hungry and I feel the same. I go for his lips again, opening my mouth as he strips off my shirt, so I pull at his, too. When both of our top halves are bare, we collapse onto my bed with me straddling his hips, and he works on undoing the button of my jeans.

"I'm fucking terrified," he says, skimming his hands roughly up my back until he gets to the band of my bra. "Of being with you. I've never…" My bra comes off and he covers my breasts with his strong, wide hands. "Been in a serious relationship. Only fuck-buddies. But I'm also…" He flips us over so he's on top of me, and opens his mouth on my neck. "Damn scared of leaving you, too."

"So, don't," I say, shoving his pants down. He shimmies the rest of the way out of them until he's left in his boxers, then puts me in the same state. I run my hands over his scalp as he sucks on my collarbones, and say, "Stay. Be with me."

He traces the curve of my waist and holds my hips between his hands, adjusting my body between his legs. "I don't know how," he mutters.

"Then let me teach you something this time," I say, fingertips ghosting over his shoulders. "We'll figure it out together."

"You wanna date me?" he asks, pulling up so we can look into each other's eyes. "You don't just wanna fuck?"

I frame his face. "I wanna be with you," I say. "Is that so crazy?"

"No one's ever told me that before," he says, and kisses me slow. "You're different. You're special. You're…"

"Yours," I finish. "I'm yours, if you want me to be."

"I want that so bad," he says, dropping kisses under the corner of my jaw. "I want you so bad."

"Then take me," I say.

And he does. When he pushes inside me, I wrap my arms around his shoulders and tuck my face into his neck, feeling my inner muscles stretch to accommodate him. There's never been a more pleasant pressure, a more welcome pain, than that of getting used to his body within my own.

I've never felt a connection like this before. One so physical, so primal, so deeply loving. As his pelvis thrusts against mine, I can't believe that all of these feelings came from an account on a dating app. It seems impossible that someone like him could come to me from something so banal.

He comes, and makes sure that I do, too. And when we're lying together in the aftermath, he doesn't make a move to leave. His body is relaxed and calm beside mine, and I can hear his steady heartbeat under my ear as I wrap my arm around his waist.

"So, you wanted to swipe left on me?" he asks, his lips moving against my hairline.

I smack his stomach playfully. "What matters is that I didn't do it."

"But you wanted to."

"I take back the fact that I wanted to," I say. "Happy?"

I lift my face to meet his eyes, and he holds my jaw when he kisses me.

"For the first time in a long time," he says. "I can say that... yes. I am."