A sudden knocking on the car window shakes me out of my sleep, and I jump in my seat. With a start, I realize that it's actually nighttime, and I scramble for my phone to check the time. It's 9:00, I had slept for twelve hours.

A second knock on the window brings me to my senses and I turn to see who it is. It's Clay.

Fuck, I do actually like him, I think as I immediately wipe away my mascara marks and smooth my hair. I unlock the car and let him in, adjusting my skirt and cursing myself for liking him.

He climbs into the passenger seat and puts his headphones into his backpack before turning his attention to me.

I follow his eyes as they linger for a second on my short skirt, and I blush as he nervously looks away.

"So you listened to my tape, huh?" I say, shocked at my sudden confidence.

He turns his face to me and doesn't speak, his eyes darting around as he contemplates what he's going to say. Taking a deep breath, he sighs, "Yeah, I did."

I swallow the lump in my throat and try my hardest not to cry. "If you just got into my car to yell at me or say you hate me then —"

"No, Isabelle, just shut up for a minute," Clay bursts, running a hand through his hair.

Hurt but intrigued, I sit quietly and stare at the steering wheel, too afraid to make eye contact.

"Listen —" he takes a deep breath — "I don't hate you. I don't think I ever could, really. I mean, I don't have any reason to... And, your tape wasn't that bad. So you had a crush on some guy..." He shrugs nonchalantly and his hand raps on his thigh. "I don't know girl politics, but that's not a big deal. You never went out of your way to hurt her, like most of us did. I mean... Do you still like him?"

I pause, letting his words wash over me. Hannah had never said Clay's name on my tape, for reasons I never found out. He doesn't know that he was the boy who got between us.

He shifts in his seat so he was fully facing me, and I do the same. His icy blue eyes, with a deep look of a need I had never seen in him before, connect with mine across the car.

"Clay, I can't," I say quietly.

His face falls and a deep feeling of regret strikes my chest. Taking a deep breath, I summon all my courage.

"I do still like him," I start shakily, wondering if I'll have the balls to do this, "and it did hurt her, Clay. When I was Listening to Hannah's tape about me, realizing what I did, it hurt even more 'cause I realized I still can't get him out of my head. I just can't get rid of it. He's everywhere I go... In fact, he's —" Stop fucking stuttering and tell him — "he's with me right now."

Childishly, my eyes dart to his face and scan it hungrily, and I watch as slow realization dawns in his eyes. I'm starting to shake so much that I have to sit on my hands to control them, and I can actually hear the sound of my heart pounding in my chest.

The giddiness in my chest at the sight of his slowly rising blush fuels my impulsivity, which has always been a problem of mine, and before I can think of stopping it, the confessional words are spilling from my mouth.

"I've liked you since before you even met Hannah. It's actually kind of stupid now I think about it, I was so hellbent on keeping it quiet. You know how the girls I hang around are. I could never admit to them that I liked dorky ass Clay Jensen. But keeping it bottled up... it just made it so much worse... but..." My eyes settle on the hem of my skirt. "But I can't feel that way anymore."

His face turns away towards the window, and I can't see whatever emotion is on his face. After watching him for years, I've learned exactly what he's feeling just by his eyes, and not seeing them makes me feel inexplicably nervous.

"I mean, I physically can feel that way," I say quickly, unable to keep my mouth shut, "it's just that I can't let myself feel it. Hannah... Hannah's dead, Clay, and I'm one of the reasons why. She said it herself — it's my fault: she liked you, I promised her that I didn't, and I was lying to her face. I'm the villain in the movie who gets in the way of true love, 'cause here I am, falling head over heels for you, and you're always going to be in love with her."

My eyes haven't left his face this entire time.

"Clay?" I ask quietly. "Do... do you have anything to say?"

I don't know what I want him to say, exactly, but I'm not sure if I could have ever been prepared for what he does say.

"When did you first realize you liked me?" he asks in a powerful, steady way, as if I was a delinquent and he was the cop questioning me.

I blink, uncertain how to phrase it.

"Well, uh..." I choose my words very meticulously. "Do you remember that night, it was about two years ago? It was... it was when you took me home. When you found me outside the Clubhouse."

He nods, looking suddenly conflicted, and I exhale loudly, my face in my hands. I don't see when Clay draws a little closer to me, as if bidden to memorize my face.

"That was a whole year ago," I say into my hands. "You saved me, and I just couldn't forget you after that. I mean, it's exhausting. And it's so..." I stop and look at Clay, who is smiling and leaning across the car. "What are you —"

"You're rambling," he whispers, his lips parted and his eyes full of excitement.

Clay's getting closer to me now, and his gaze trails down my face until it lands on my lips, and remains there as if instructed to memorize their shape.

Though my heart is beating scarily fast, the pace so fast I worry for my health, I welcome this new exhilaration of Clay wanting me. Clay fucking Jensen — forever the boy who got away — wanting me. Butterflies fill my stomach, and their wings beat and flutter in my heart as our eyes, blue on brown and dark with longing, connect.

I've always been impulsive, but often let insecurity get the best of me. But right here, right now, I am in a car alone with Clay Jensen, he's inches away from my face, and the night is covering us in a blanket of secrecy; no one beside the two of us would know if the very thing I swore that I would never do really did happen.

Clay's eyes are so glittery, so blue. His lips are so pink, his skin so soft, his face so close to mine. So, so fucking close —

I close the space between us, slamming onto his lips. He instantly kisses me back, with a passion I never knew he was capable of. Clay's mouth moves in a perfect melody with mine and his hand falls on the back of my neck, pulling me closer to him.

The kiss is deep and emotional, but with a need I had never felt before. It was deep when I kissed other boys, but never with such a strong intensity and overwhelming affection. We fit like a perfect puzzle piece and move in a way that seems too perfect to be real.

My hands travel up his back and latch around his neck, and his strong hands pull at my waist. He stays connected at my lips as his hands tug at the small of my back, pulling me from my car seat into his lap.

My mind goes blank with euphoria as his hand encircles around my waist, gently lifting my leg up so I am wrapped around his lap. His hand moves my hips exactly where I silently want him to, with the other hand entangling itself in my hair. My senses are so overloaded with energy that I'm worried I might just explode, and I have to remind myself by the tangible feel of his lips, gentle and slow, that I'm not dreaming.

Clay buries his face into my neck and, to my shock, bites there gently, leaving undeniable marks as he moves towards my chest. Once I'm over the surprise that Clay Jensen even knows how to do that, I giggle about how I will have to hide those in the morning.

But, however much I don't want it to, uncertainty flows into my chest just as steadily as the wanting, and I find myself speaking before I can stop myself.

"Hey, hey, listen," I blurt out as I feel his hands start to climb up my shirt.

Gasping for breath, I pull away from him and he looks at me questionably, his eyes bright with blue electricity. I need to check, no matter how amazing this felt.

"Clay, you have to be honest," I say through gasps, my chest heaving for breath. "Do you... do you like me too? Or are you just here for a hookup?"

My hands fiddle nervously in my lap, the same way my brothers always did when he was feeling anxious.

Clay bites his lip, staring up into my eyes and pulling his hands off my waist. I become very aware of my position, sitting in his lap with my legs wrapped around him, my short skirt leaving nothing to the imagination.

"Of course I do," he says earnestly. "I've just been thinking about this too, and I can't believe it's actually happening."

He breaks out into a wide grin, and I smile knowing that it was me who made him the happiest I've seen him, at least since Hannah died.

"You're so fucking corny, Jensen," I giggle as he laughs and pulls his t-shirt over his head, placing his hands back on my waist.

His arms are strong and powerful, with veins up and down them in the hottest way possible. Again, I have to remind myself this isn't a dream version of Clay, despite the shock of it. Though he's skinnier than most boys I've hooked up with, I can feel undeniable abs and see curves of a v-line sculpted under his stomach in the dim-lit car.

Shocked, I let my eyes wander and travel his body, settling on his surprisingly large biceps and veiny arms. He watches me curiously, and I can't bear to make eye-contact as my eyes scour his chest.

"When did this happen?" I ask, running my hands down his arms and feeling his muscles tense under them. "Since when do you look like this?"

"It's more of a skinny fit," Clay says timidly, and my heart grows warm as I see him blush.

His hands tug softly at the hem of my shirt, and he turns his face to me with a gentle look in his eye. I rip myself out of my muscle-obsession and look at him, tipping my head to the side when I see the worry in his eyes.

"Is... is this okay?" he asks sweetly.

An irresistible smile fills my face, and I kiss him delicately on his forehead and whisper, "It's perfectly okay."

Remembering the cost of my shirt, I take it off gently even if I want to rip it off like in the movies.

His eyes widen as he looks at my body, and I thank God I decided to wear my most expensive bra that day. I wonder if he's ever seen a girl in such an intimate way, and the thought makes me worried for a moment, but then his hands are back at my waist and all my stress dissolves like water.

I lean into his body and kiss his neck as he snakes his hands around to the zipper of my skirt. He is clearly trying to be suave, and failing miserably. His hands clumsily fiddle and fumble with it and I hold in a laugh as I feel his jaw tighten in concentration.

Finally, just as I'm considering helping him out, Clay manages to unzip it, and I kick the tiny skirt off in a hurried fashion to make up for lost time.

I move my lips down his neck and chest until I reach his belt, and a flash of shame goes through my body as I realize what I am doing. I've had sex and hook-ups with lots of guys, and not even all have been my age, but this is Clay's first time ever.

Am I going too fast? Am I ruining this for Clay?

But those thoughts leave my mind instantly as Clay keeps one hand on my waist, using the other to undo his belt. He reaches clumsily behind me and I lean back.

"I got this one," I whisper with a giggle, bringing my hands behind my back to take off my bra.

Within seconds, his pants are gone as well. I take a pause to acknowledge the skill of Clay removing his bottoms with me still on top of him, and another pause for us both to admire each other.

Clay laughs and I smile as we both stare at each other, not sure what to do from here. I touch his face and kiss him, filling the silence.

"You sure you want to do this?" he asks gently, and I smile again.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" I respond, holding eye contact with him. "I mean it is your first time, and this is usually saved for the third or fourth date, at least in my experience."

His eyes break away from mine, and I can see that he is starting to process what is actually happening.

"I mean," I gently pick his head back up, "we don't have to go all the way. I could always just do a little something for you."

I kiss his chest and trail down to his belt, leaving soft marks in the outline of the v-line. I feel Clay shudder underneath me and I bring my face back up to his, where I find a smile on his lips.

"You are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. Of course I want to go all the way." Clay kisses me again but then pauses and looks worried. "But only if you want to, I don't want to pressure you or anything..."

Smiling, I wrap my arms around his neck. "Of course I want to," I repeat his words as I kiss him on the cheek reassuringly, feeling him smile under my lips. "By the way, there's condoms in the glove box."

"Perfect," he says, lifting me off of his lap and laying me in the backseat, where I stretch out onto a very convenient blanket.

Then the realization hits me. I'm really about to take Clay Jensen's virginity (at least I think so) in the back of a car, and he's worried about me. If this isn't peak high school experience, I don't know what is.

Nearly kicking me in the face, Clay clumsily pushes his way from the front of the car to the back. I try and fail to resist laughing. Clay finally reaches me and pauses unsurely at my nonstop giggles.

"I'm not laughing at you!" I say between gasps of laughter. "I promise!"

Clay's uncertainty melts. He smiles and shuts me up with another slow, deep kiss, instantly quelling any awkwardness.

He slowly pulls away and moves down my body, hooking his fingers around my panties and pulling them off of me. I gasp as I feel his cold hands on my thighs, and he lays himself down on top of me. His body leans into mine gently, but firmly enough to feel muscles pressing into my skin.

"You still sure?" he asks, his breath warm against my ear.

"Very," I say clearly, struggling not to whisper it.

"You want this to happen?"

"So fucking much," I sigh and kiss his neck as he pulls his boxers off. He passes me the condom, and I reach down to blindly apply it. He thankfully doesn't question how I can do it that easily.

My hands move back up and wrap around his neck, and we both take a deep breath.

Then, with a gasp, I feel Clay start to enter me. He's much bigger than I thought, and I wince in response to the pressure.

His hands find their place at my hips, and I bite my lip as he begins to move me on the carseat with his slow thrusts. My head bumps slightly on the door as he finds a rhythm. The pressure turns quickly into pleasure as his strokes become deeper and harder.

A small "Clay!" escapes my lips as he goes faster, hitting my spot each time. I grab the blanket, curling my hand into a fist around it. My back arches upwards involuntarily as he continues on for what feels like an endless amount of time.

He brings himself up, moving one hand to my neck and using the other to guide my hips. His fingers curl around my neck, and I hook my hands under his arms as we both reach our climax.

Collapsing besides me, I hear Clay instantly fall asleep and smile to myself.

It finally happened. I think, putting his arm around me and wrapping the blanket around us, falling into a deep sleep.