Extra Credit Page 6

  “Not exactly. There wasn’t a whole lot of spark there in the first place. That was the problem. Both of my ex-girlfriends decided — right after dating me — that they would rather be with women.”

  I watched Katie’s face as she took that in, waiting for the inevitable reaction. Her eyes flicked toward mine, and she bit her lip, trying to fight off her amusement. Those pretty eyes were sparkling now. “Go ahead,” I told her. “You can laugh. Everyone else does.”

  “Oh, Andy,” she giggled. “Both of them?”

  “Yep.”

  Her giggle became an unruly belly laugh, and we had to stop on the sidewalk while she pulled herself together. She took a deep, gasping breath and wiped her eyes. “You know that had nothing to do with you, right?” she said eventually. “You didn’t turn those girls gay.”

  “Yeah, I know it. But my friends are pretty amused anyway.”

  “Both girls,” she tittered.

  “Yep!”

  We had almost arrived at Fresh Court, and the inevitable end of the night. This was the moment when I had to screw up my courage and ask her if we could go out again some time. But how to phrase it? Some guys were smooth and could ask for anything.

  I was not one of them.

  “Wait.” Katie tugged on my hand just as we were about to walk underneath the Fresh Court gate. “Are you going to copy the art history notes for me?”

  I paused. Did she mean tonight? “Any time. My printer makes copies.”

  “Can I get them now? The test is only three days away.”

  “Well, sure.” I changed direction, steering us toward Beaumont. Katie’s fingers gave mine a squeeze, which I returned. That little exchange made me ridiculously, irrationally happy. I walked on, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world to have Katie Vickery stop by my room. But inside, I was dancing a jig.

  Calm down, idiot, I chided myself. The girl is just very serious about her art history exam.

  Even at the pace of someone walking on high heels, the trip from the gate to my entryway only took a few minutes. But that was plenty of time to fret about the condition of my room. For once I’d made the bed. Yes! I’d straightened it out, anyway, because I needed a surface on which to lay the evidence of my not-very-masculine fashion crisis.

  Wait — I’d picked all those clothes up afterwards, right?

  Uh, oh. This was going to be bad.

  But it was too late to worry, because we were already arriving at my entryway stairs. Katie followed me up to the second floor, where I unlocked the door. Peering into the room, I gave a split second prayer that either things weren’t as bad as I remembered, or else elves had come by to tidy up while I was gone.

  No such luck. The bed was covered with my clothes. Stepping into my room behind me, my date laughed. “Looks just like my room.”

  “I was in kind of a hurry,” I said, lamely.

  “See? That’s what I tell Scarlet when she complains about the mess. But apparently I’m always in a hurry.”

  Embarrassed, I went over to the desk to find my History of Art notebook. Flipping through the pages, I said, “The review lecture took me six pages. But it will only take a couple of minutes to copy.”

  “No rush,” she said, sitting down in my desk chair, which was mercifully clean.

  No rush, my brain repeated, listening for clues.

  Stop, I ordered myself. Don’t fuck this up. Give the girl her notes, walk her home, ask her out and count your blessings.

  Chapter 9

  Katie

  I watched Andy fumble with his printer. While it warmed up, he moved over to the bed and grabbed an armload of clothes. Most of them were shirts, still on their hangers. These he ferried to the closet, jamming them onto the bar and shutting the door. If another guy did that, I would assume that he was trying to clear off the bed, in order to steer me onto it. But Andy didn’t give off that hey-baby-come-upstairs-to-see-my-trophies vibe. And it was refreshing. I was so done with guys who had big expectations and very little gratitude.

  In contrast, Andy reminded me a bit of a chocolate lab puppy — cute and clumsy. He even had big puppy feet.

  As I watched him frowning over his art history notebook, I found myself wondering what it would be like to kiss him. Tonight it had dawned on me that I’d approached the dating scene at Harkness all wrong. Someone like Andy, who didn’t carry himself like God’s natural gift to women, probably had a whole lot of untapped passion.

  Now, conventional wisdom said that confidence was a turn-on. And that was true, but only up to a point. Because confidence implied experience. And I was learning that experience wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Both my football players had plenty of experience. But neither one had ever made me feel as if our moments together were truly special.

  Except for that last night with Dash. That was the only time he ever convinced me that I made a difference. And that had turned out to be a big fat lie.

  Ugh.

  It’s just sex, I reminded myself. But I liked sex, and I’d often enjoyed it with him. Both of my football players had had beautiful bodies and plentiful stamina. In fact, if someone had asked me to draw a picture of the kind of guy I thought I wanted, I would have ended up with a likeness of them.

  But it hadn’t been enough, had it?

  Andy handed me the first page of notes, still warm from the printer. “Have a look at this, and tell me if any of the handwriting is inscrutable,” he said.

  I scanned the page. Each painting’s title was listed carefully, along with its artist, approximate date of creation, and sometimes the materials used.

  He leaned over my shoulder, and for a weird moment I wondered if he was looking down my dress. And I kind of hoped he was. Judge me if you will.

  But no. His long fingers touched the page in front of me. “Wherever I didn’t write down the materials, that’s because it was oil on canvas,” he said. “There are a lot of those. And I may have misspelled Caravaggio. That’s kind of embarrassing.”

  “No, that’s right,” I said. “One R and two Gs.”

  He flashed me a smile that said “friendly” more than it said “do me.” Then he went over to flip the notebook around in the printer. “Good thing.”

  When I received the second sheet, I found a little drawing in the corner. “What’s this?”

  Andy sat down on the bed and folded his long arms onto his knees. “That is an X-wing fighter. Don’t judge.”

  Aw. “I would never!”

  His warm brown eyes smiled back at me again. “Good. Because there may be some rebel ships on the next page. I had to amuse myself while that blowhard in the Knicks hat asked seventeen questions.”

  I knew exactly which student he meant. And the guy really was a blowhard. But I teased Andy anyway. “Now, now. Do you hate him because he always wants to talk about Cubism? Or because he wears a Knicks hat?”

  Andy gave me a full-on smile this time, and it was really pretty hot. “Both.”

  “Who’s your team?” Not for nothing had I learned how to talk sports, even when I didn’t give a damn. But boys? They loved it.

  “I’m a Celtics fan. Not that it’s easy.”

  “They’re not a good team?”

  He put a hand to his chest in mock distress. “Katie, they’re the best team. It’s just that they lose most of the time.”

  “How is that possible?”

  Andy blinked at me with wide eyes. Then he leaned over the printer to copy the last two pages of notes. “Aren’t we surrounded by evidence that the people who win are not always deserving?”

  Interesting. I was pretty sure he wasn’t talking about basketball anymore. “Thanks for your notes,” I said softly. “It’s going to make a huge difference.”

  “Don’t mention it.” He stapled the sheets together and handed them to me. And that was the moment when I no longer had a reason to stay there, chatting with the nicest guy I’d met in forever.

  We’d reached that moment. The one which conclu
ded the predictable chapter of our evening. Now a page would be turned. And we might find “THE END” stamped there. But I found that I wasn’t really ready to hear those words. I’d taken a big gamble telling Andy my uncomfortable little story. And trusting him with it had been the smartest thing I’d done all week. He’d let me get mad, and he didn’t think I was an idiot. I’d know it if he did. Those big eyes were just too expressive to hide it.

  I wanted a little more of Andy. Truly I did. I stood up, then, and turned to him.

  Unfortunately, he didn’t catch the look of intent I was trying to give him. “I’ll walk you back,” he said quickly. He grabbed his jacket and shrugged it on.

  Andy was truly adorable. And lovably uncalculating. Even gentlemanly. (Look, Mom! I found one.) But that would simply not do.

  Not at all.

  Chapter 10

  Andy

  Katie moved slowly over to the door of my room, but she didn’t open it. “Thank you for the notes. And for taking me to that wacky party. And for inventing a game that distracted me from feeling like a moron.”

  I smiled at her. In fact, I’d been grinning like a mental patient all night, probably. But she had that effect on me. “You’re welcome. For all of it. Best sorority party I’ve ever been to.”

  She gave me a teasing eye roll. “Very funny. You told me earlier that it was the only sorority party you’d ever been to.”

  “That doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

  For a second, I got lost in the happy look on her face. Also, I expected her to move away from the door. But she didn’t. Katie put her back against the door instead. Raising her chin, she looked up at me with soft eyes.

  Hold up. Those weren’t just soft eyes. They were eyes that asked for something.

  Whoa. Time out.

  I’d heard Bridger use the phrase “fuck me eyes,” before. But it was a safe bet that I wasn’t getting “fuck me eyes” from anyone. Like, ever. And I wouldn’t know them even if I saw them. These, however, seemed to be “kiss me eyes.”

  I was pretty sure, anyway.

  Oh, hell.

  A couple more precious seconds were wasted while I did the math one more time, just to be confident I wasn’t about to make a terrible mistake. Girl steps in front of door, so you can’t leave without pushing her out of the way. Girl stops, head against your door, mouth tilted up toward yours…

  Okay. Not too many ways to read that.

  I stepped closer. Then, stalling, I lifted a hand to smooth that silky hair away from her face. She leaned into my hand slightly, and that tiny gesture gave me the courage to tip my face down to hers. Even then, I almost chickened out. I’d wanted to kiss this girl since the first time I saw her. This couldn’t possibly be happening.

  But it was.

  Our lips met softly. My heart was a freight train in my chest, urging me on. But I fought the impulse to rush. Because Katie deserved better than that. I kissed her slowly. Teasingly, even. Once. Twice.

  It was glorious.

  She made a sweet little noise of approval, and the sound shot through me like a sonic boom. Feeling bold, I deepened the kiss. I scooped one hand into the silky hair at the back of her neck. And when she opened for me, the first slow slide of my tongue against hers sent my brain on a week-long sailing trip around the Caribbean.

  Leaning in, I lost myself in Katie’s sweet mouth. She tasted like wine and honey. Her hands slipped around to my back, and I practically died of happiness.

  Still, after the most amazing ninety seconds of my life, I made myself pull back. Because all my blood had departed the thinking regions of my body to run south. And I needed my brain to come back online, before I somehow found a way to wreck this perfect evening. “Katie,” I said, my forehead resting against hers. “Thank you for this awesome night. You are excellent company. I hope we can do it again sometime.”

  God, I hoped that was the right thing to say.

  She was quiet for a moment. “Andy?”

  “Yeah?” I whispered, my voice thick.

  “Can we do it again right now?”

  Chapter 11

  Katie

  I saw Andy take a long, slow blink. For a second there, he looked like he was trying to remember a formula for his physics exam. But then he gave me the cutest smile. And there was more warmth in his face right then than I’d ever seen in my jerkface ex’s expression. For a moment I worried that he was going to be a gentleman and beg off. But once again, Andy proved that he wasn’t a stupid man. His hands came up to cup my jaw, and then his mouth slanted over mine again.

  This time, his kiss was filled with the most delicious tension. There was plenty of hunger in that kiss. When our tongues met, he made an achy little sound. But wrapped around his obvious need was a sweet layer of restraint. He wanted this. I could taste how much. But he wasn’t going to lunge at me. He did not grab me or press me against the door.

  That left us taking kiss after long, slow kiss. Each one felt a little harder to control than the last. The big hands which were so gently cradling my jaw were actually trembling.

  Hottest. Thing. Ever.

  If I’d been a good girl, like my mother had hoped, I wouldn’t have taken this as a challenge.

  I was not, however, a good girl.

  I reached for him again, my palms grazing his ribs, venturing down to his waist. The feel of all that solid boy flesh under my hands was divine. He wasn’t bulky like The Fullback Who Shall Not Be Named. Instead, he was taut and firm in all the right places. And as I explored his upper body, his breathing kicked up a couple of notches.

  Because I’ve never been good about backing off, I reached around, cupping his ass. With a tug, I pulled him against me. And gabardine doesn’t hide much. His belt buckle was not the only thing suddenly stabbing me in the belly.

  The feel of him just lit me up. This smart, kind boy knew all the dumbest things about me. He’d received my ugliest secret without judgment. And now I was kissing the stuffing right out of him.

  And he was really into it.

  He broke our kiss with a groan. His lips wandered down my jaw next, and onto my neck, dropping kisses in their wake. When he moved, the part of him which was currently straining inside his pants brushed against the silk of my dress. And the result was a single and wholly unsatisfying drag of friction between my legs.

  I didn’t bother to hold back my moan of frustration.

  At the sound of it, Andy’s lips ceased their travel down my neck, and his body went completely still. Carefully, he rose up to his full height again, pulling me into a gentle hug against his chest. Into my ear, he whispered, “Katie, you are making me completely crazy. That’s why I think it’s time to walk you home.”

  In the silence which followed, I could hear only two beating hearts. “Just tell me this,” I said finally. “Do you really want me to go home?”

  He gave a strangled chuckle. “What I want is for you to wake up tomorrow and say, ‘I had an unexpectedly great time last night. In fact, I want to see that skinny guy again.’”

  “Unexpectedly great?” I whispered.

  “Well, yeah. Or good. I could work with good, too.”

  I smiled into his neck. “Mmm.” I had no trouble thinking up a few things that would feel unexpectedly great. His skin against my skin, for example. Sex had just always made sense to me. I treasured that communion, whether it was slow and sweet, or hot and wild.

  The guys I’d dated weren’t really fond of showing much emotion. So getting them naked had always been my go-to method for getting a glimpse of their unguarded selves. Andy wasn’t like the others, though. He didn’t mind sharing how he felt. But that only made me hungrier for him. All evening he’d been funny and generous. Without clothes, I imagined more of the same. Only much more intense.

  That sounded delicious.

  Still… I felt myself hesitate, and it wasn’t a sensation that I was used to. Perhaps second-guessing myself was going to be a new habit. I nuzzled into his collar, where I coul
d feel Andy’s pulse ticking against my nose. I took a deep breath. He smelled like clean laundry and strong, steady boy. At that moment, I could swear that I’d known him for years.

  “See,” I said to his collarbone. “The last time I did something impulsive with a guy, it was a total disaster. I’ve spent the last week telling myself that I’m a big idiot.”

  His arms tightened protectively around me then, and I loved him for it.

  “But I don’t want to be embarrassed anymore. And I don’t want to feel guilty about wanting you right now.”

  He took a deep, slow breath, and then let it out the same way. “I want you, too. But I’m willing to wait.”

  “I know.” It came out as a husky whisper. “But that’s why you don’t have to.” Reaching up, I undid the first button on his shirt. Teasing the collar apart, I stood on my tiptoes and began kissing his neck. This brought my body closer to his, and I did not waste the chance to brush against the bulge in his trousers.

  Andy let out a groan that could probably be heard the next town over.

  Suddenly we were lip-locked again, and simultaneously stumbling out of our shoes. Without my heels on, I was a lot shorter than him. Andy had to lean down fairly far to kiss me. So I gave him a little shove toward the bed. He took a couple of awkward steps back, until the bed collided with his legs.

  Down he went, bringing me with him. Reacting fast, he tucked my head under his chin as we landed with a mutual “oof.”

  “Are you okay?” he laughed.

  Scrambling into his lap, I said, “Yes.” Kiss. “I.” Kiss “Am. And I’d be even better if we could lose some of these clothes.”

  Andy’s eyes squeezed shut. “That’s… um…”

  Uh oh. “Don’t you want to?” I whispered. A little wave of insecurity splashed over me then. Although Andy had the flushed, lusty look of a turned-on guy. And I loved that look. The face that said: You have my complete and undivided attention. So I didn’t really know why he’d hesitate.