I give myself a toothy grin in the cracked mirror of the tattoo parlor. Metal music busts from a set of speakers in the back and the whir of a tattoo gun adds to the rhythm. "Mom's going to murder us."

Lila throws her arm over my shoulder, squinting at the glinting little tooth gem stuck to my canine. The blue eyes we share sparkle as she surveys my first act of rebellion in 18 years. "It'll be fine, Wren. Just don't smile when you see her for Thanksgiving Break."

"Or Christmas," Nate adds, grinning.

I narrow my eyes at his reflection. Handywork done, he pulls off his black gloves and rolls down his sleeves, covering his thick layer of tattoos. The last time I saw him, years ago when Lila was still in school and they were dating (very briefly), he was scrawny and almost completely bare of the inkings.

Lila turns away before I can see her smirk, too. "How's Ainslee?" she asks him, dropping down onto the chair I was just in, clutching onto the arms for dear life to keep from shaking.

"Being her usual self," he says, a knowing smile on his lips. "Texts me pictures of the baby fifty times a day."

While my sister catches up with Nate, I practice smiling in the mirror. The little Swarovski crystal catches the light just right and I can't help but shiver. My first body modification—how exciting. And I signed all the paperwork myself. I know it's temporary and essentially the same thing as when I had braces in middle school, but I want to embrace the rush of it.

I'm nearly a real adult.

This whole day has been surreal, from finally—finally—moving to the city, lugging a semester's worth of my crap up Lila's five-floor walk-up, having her show me around Laurent University and getting my textbooks, to dinner at her favorite sushi place, and now here, because she wanted to give me a graduation present since she couldn't make the ceremony.

I turn away from the mirror when she and Nate make their way to the front of the shop.

"Thank you so much," I say to him, flashing a big smile.

He laughs and pats me on the head like a tolerable pet. "You just come back to me when you decide on some real work, yeah?"

"Count me out on that one," Lila chimes in. "Mom would really kill me if I had any part in that."

And after she rises on tip toes to give him a hug, we're out into the night.

"So?" She asks, giving me a nudge as we make our way down the lit-up street. The city is bustling, alive, even though it's closing in on 10 o'clock and I know for a fact our hometown in Connecticut has been dark for hours.

"So, what?" I say, giving her a nudge back.

"You feel it, yet?"

"Feel...?"

She leans into me and whispers, "The freedom."

I sleep late into the morning, ignoring my alarm and letting myself drift in and out. All the activity from yesterday has me exhausted and tense at the same time.

Lila's up and out of the house by seven thirty to get to work, and I'm on my own until she gets home around six tonight. I'm accustomed to fending for myself, since Mom and Dad work long hours, too. A part of me is actually anticipating the day when I find I job I'm so passionate about that I can't wait to get to work—

But I need to find that thing I'm good at, first.

Sunlight streams in from the part in the curtains and music is coming from somewhere below. Most of my things are in bags and boxes about the room, but Lila had the foresight to get me a halfway decent mattress and bedding while I'm staying in her guestroom (formerly her office).

"There's no way my sister is going to live in campus housing," she said when I called to tell her I got accepted to Laurent University, her alma mater. "I did that shit, and my roommates still haunt me to this day. No, you're staying with me."

I stretch, licking my tooth gem and running a hand through my long tangle of hair.

Then, a little tickle roams down my body. I close my eyes and let the sensation stop down below. The hand in my hair moves down, enclosing around a breast, over the oversized Backstreet Boys T I lived in in middle school. My other hand slips down my stomach and beneath my black panties.

I let myself picture Noah, the boy who took my virginity last year. He gets me going the easiest, especially when I think about that bulge he pushed against me when we were locked in Cece McClain's closet during my first (and honestly, only) 7 Minutes in Heaven.

His light auburn hair tickled my cheek and his rough hands found my waist, hardened from working for his father's lumber company. He wasn't exactly drop-dead gorgeous handsome, but he had this boyish thing about him that I couldn't quite ignore. Plus, he was the only boy who had ever grabbed me like that, like he needed me.

I didn't have a lot of experience with boys before Noah. I wasn't super social in high school and kept my friend group small. But my friends were more boy-crazy than I was, so I was perfectly fine in living vicariously through them.

That is until we somehow ended up at CeCe's party and I found myself in a small dark closet.

"I've been wanting to get you in here all night," he whispered into my neck.

My heart had never beat so fast. I didn't know what to do with my hands. "Why?"

Maybe because it was expected of him, and because the lights were off, he had the courage to say, "Because I want you, Wren."

And then he led me gently back until I hit the jackets hanging behind us, pushing his whole body up against me. That's when I felt the swelling, the heat from his body, his hot breath on my neck.

We didn't dare do anymore than kiss in those 7 minutes—

My mind jumps to the last time we had sex. I knew it would be our last time; I had just gotten accepted to Laurent and he didn't plan on going to college at all. That's what ultimately did it for me, made me realize I didn't love him like I once did—if I ever did. But he was my only, so I took full advantage while I could.

"Fuck me," I begged. "Please, Noah."

He shoved me against the wall in the stairwell—we had ten minutes before class let out and the stairs would be flooded with students, but I didn't care. My hormones were all out of wack and sex had become my favorite hobby.

"You remembered your birth control?" he asked huskily as I undid his jeans.

"Of course," I snapped, nearly irritated. "I've never missed a day, you know that."

Instead of snapping back like he was prone to do in those days, he hiked up my dress and yanked my panties out of the way. A new thrill sprung through me at his aggressiveness, but I didn't have time to think about it then because his mouth found mine. He forced my lips apart with his tongue and gripped the side of my face with one hand.

I moaned as I pulled him out of his underwear; he was already hard and throbbing. By then I was dripping and he slid into me with ease. Once he was completely inside, filling me up, he hoisted me off my feet and I wrapped my legs around him. Using the wall as leverage he pushed against me, hard and deep.

I couldn't help it; I moaned again, fingers gripping his hair. He thrust against me, hitting that oh so sensitive spot inside, but he was going too fast—

I knew it, right before he came, that I wouldn't be finishing.

But that was months ago, and now, alone in my new bed in my new city, I could have him fuck me as long as I wanted.