She Laughs in Pink (Sheridan Hall #1) by Jessica Calla

thought when it happened again, it would be Ben. I spent years waiting—waiting for the right time, the right place, my right boy. But as I stand on shaky legs while Chase’s hands run over my chest, down my back, and over my hips, I realize I’m a total idiot for missing out on what’s wrong. Because making out at the train station in my sweaty dancewear with this wrong beautiful boy with his mysterious New Life Plan is absolutely amazing.
     
    Chase
     
    Holy fuck . I can’t stop kissing Juliet. Color explodes in my mind, red mostly, but also oranges, yellows, and of course pinks as she moves in my hands, in my arms, on my lips. I’m not sure if I’m grateful or disappointed we’re in public. Probably grateful . She turns me so my back is against the dirty wall and her hips push into mine. Nope. Disappointed. Definitely disappointed.
    The train’s brakes squeal as it approaches the platform, and I pull away, breathless. “We should get back.” We’d already missed one train, not that I care. Juliet doesn’t seem to care either. She looks at me through half-closed eyes and grins. “Jesus, Juliet.” I kiss her again because I have to when she looks at me like that. It’s like a sexy smirk that strikes me right in the groin.
    Without focusing too hard on Juliet, I grab her ballet bag in one hand, her hand in the other, and lead her onto the train. She guides me to the back. I throw her bag on an empty seat and sit down.
    Juliet doesn’t sit next to me. Instead, as the train begins to pull away, she straddles me. Holy. Fuck. I lean back against the seat and try to play it cool, but I can’t resist touching her thighs as they stretch over my mine. I run my hands over them as I wait for her next move.
    The sexy smirk she flashes me is almost as powerful as the touch of her body. The image of her on my lap in the dim light of the train with her hair tangled and loose over her pink sweater and her lips puffy imprints itself on my brain. I’ll have to paint it . I return her smile and push her hair over her shoulders, then pull her close and kiss her again. “If this is what dance class does for you, I’ll gladly escort you home every time,” I half-joke.
    She laughs her cotton candy cloud. Pink . “I’m a sweaty mess.” Her lips graze mine as she talks.
    “You’re fucking incredible,” I whisper between kisses. As the train reaches the NJU stop, neither of us makes a move to get up. I’m afraid if I get off the train—this magic train where I get to kiss Juliet—I’ll never get to touch her again. NJU means Ben. The train means her soft skin under my fingertips, her hair tickling my neck, her smile directed at me. The train means her pink clouds of laughter, her lips and sighs, the little pants as her chest rises and falls against mine.
    The lights dim and the train moves again, away from NJU and Ben into God-knows-where Jersey. It doesn’t matter to me as my hands wrap in Juliet’s hair to smooth it down her back. I’m hard as a rock and, if I were with any girl besides Juliet, I’d be digging the condom out of my wallet and searching for a suitable place to finish what we’d started. But with Juliet, I let her take the lead. I want her to want me. For some reason, that matters with her. As she kisses me, my heart pounds and my body tightens, but I stay in control, committing every touch of her body to memory so I can replay it later.
    She’s in my lap. She’s all over me, I’m touching her, and she’s amazing, then suddenly, she stops. She grins, but twists off and sits in the seat next to me. The space between us, only an inch or so, seems more like a mile with the warmth of her body absent. Her pink cloud turns grey.
    She leans her head on my shoulder and grabs my hand, playing with my fingers. I hear her sigh, and she says the one word I always expect to hear from her: “Ben.”
    I wish Ben were a dick so I could hate him. I say his name to remind me. “Ben.” My roommate, her