The first two weeks of December flew by for Reagan. She was positive that she’d studied more in the past ten days than in her entire previous school years combined. She was ready for the three-day break all the students had before final exams. On Saturday, she wanted to catch up on her sleep. Unfortunately, Lydia had other plans.

“I finally got the housing transfer I wanted,” she shouted into her phone.

Reagan groaned and covered her head with her pillow, but inside she was doing a happy dance. She wouldn't have to put up with insults, snooping, and loud rants at all hours of the day and night anymore. No more being woken by loud phone calls. If her next roommate was just as bad as Lydia, she would most definitely cry. Hopefully, she would get a friendly, quiet roommate.

Reagan sat up when her phone chimed with a text. She didn't recognize the number, and the message was nothing more than an address that she thought was nearby. Her entire body flushed with heat as she pushed her tangled hair out of her face and looked down at the text again. She understood entirely what was going on, but she didn’t like it. She was more than a booty call. Resolved, she deleted the text and the address before texting Luna to ask if she had anything going on. After Luna’s reply, she got up and dressed for the day, ignoring Lydia completely.

If Hudson thought he could stand her up, ignore her for weeks, and she’d still come running the second he thought about her again, he was mistaken. It didn't matter that she wanted to be with him more than almost anything in the world at that moment; he had to at least make an effort or there could never be anything between them.

She went to Luna’s instead. They made cookies and gossiped about Davis and his efforts to try to get Luna to date him. They watched a movie and ate their cookies, and Reagan never once checked the cell phone she purposely left in her purse. The girls made plans for the day before winter break to exchange gifts and have a mini Christmas party. They discussed exams and the upcoming term and Reagan tried not to focus on the fact that she had Professor Clark for another several months. Luna invited Reagan to come over the next day if she had nothing else to do, and Reagan agreed.

She left Luna’s and stopped by the cafeteria on campus to get dinner. Since her scholarship covered meals and she had yet to get a job, it was the most cost-efficient way to go. She knew there were job listings on the school website, and she intended to look through the postings while she ate. She needed something on campus or close to it in order to cut down on fuel costs, something part-time so it wouldn't interfere with her studies, and something that she wouldn't completely hate. After looking at the myriad jobs in food services for half an hour she was about to lose hope when she saw a shadow fall over her table, causing her to look up.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” she hissed under her breath.

Hudson sat in the empty chair across from her without asking if he could. “You’ve been ignoring my texts.”

She clenched her jaw. He was glowering in a way that somehow turned her on. Irritated that he could cause such conflicting emotions, she shifted in her seat. “Yes, I have.”

He leaned forward so she could hear his lowered voice. “Why? We agreed I would send my address and you’d come over.”

Reagan stared at Hudson in blatant disbelief. The beard was longer, more like it had been the first time. She remembered exactly how it felt rubbing against the inside of her thighs. “That was weeks ago. You have some damn nerve.”

She picked up her purse and the rest of her food and got up. She made it as far as the trash can before he caught her elbow. She glared up at his face as he towered over her, and he immediately let go. He couldn't afford to cause a scene, which she very well knew.

Reagan walked out the doors, appalled when he followed. “Leave me alone, Hudson.” Her voice was very close to a hiss.

“No. I want you to tell me why you changed your mind.”

She stopped walking, looking up at him as he stood several feet away. “I didn't. We had an agreement, you broke it, and now you think I should drop everything and jump at your bidding because you’re bored and horny.”

Hudson looked around to be certain no one was within earshot. “That’s not true. I wanted to see you in order to explain what happened.”

“Sure.”

She turned back and started walking to her dorm where she knew he wouldn't follow. Her face was on fire at his nerve. If he wasn’t willing to give her credit for being smart enough to see through his crap, then she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of responding to him. Darkness was encroaching on the sidewalk and she hurried to reach the other end of the campus so she could just pretend Hudson didn’t exist for a few more days. She hated to admit how much she knew that wasn’t true. He was on her mind all the time. He invaded all of her thoughts, whether she liked it or not.

“Reagan.”

He sounded frustrated and closer than she’d assumed. She honestly hadn't expected him to follow her home, but his long legs ate up the ground until he was right next to her. She moved a little faster and pretended she hadn't heard him.

“For God's sake, stop.” He was tempted to grab her again but they were essentially in public. Though it was dark out, there were plenty of lights and there was no way he wouldn't be recognizable to anyone passing by who knew him. “I just want to explain. Why are you running from me as though you're scared of me?”

That brought her up short. She whirled on him, wished she was tall enough to get in his face, and raised her voice. “Don’t for one second think I’m afraid of anybody!” She jabbed her finger into his chest. “You stood me up. The end.”

He stayed where he was when she walked off again. There was no way to complete their conversation that evening that wouldn’t get him deeper in shit.

He strode in the opposite direction, angry at himself. He ran his long fingers through his hair and growled. Maybe he’d gone about it all wrong, but he’d woken up with morning wood so hard he couldn't relieve it. His cold showers every morning were not only wearing thin, but they also weren't good enough. He couldn't stop picturing her, no matter what he did. He tried magazines, online sites, the bar scene, and all to no avail. He dreamed of her nightly and, God forgive him, his dreams had gone way beyond normal. Between the amazing and mind-blowing sex they had in his dreams, he’d begun to see her as something else. As a permanent fixture in his life, and that just couldn't happen.

Not only because Reagan would continue to be his student for the next five months or so, but because his mother had begun asking him if he’d met a suitable woman yet. To the Clarks, suitable meant polished, well-brought-up, and preferably in the same social circle. She was expected to be a debutante, whoever she wound up being. Camilla asked him to make a stronger effort in that department seeing as how her friends were beginning to infer there was something wrong with him.

Hudson climbed into his car and snorted to himself as he made his way home. ‘Wrong’ meant anything from commitment-phobic to homosexual. He rolled his eyes. Not that being so wasn't completely accepted in the circle his parents moved in, so long as one followed an unspoken set of rules. The coming out must be at a suitable age to make it clear it wasn't a cop-out for not finding a suitable female companion, then the partner must also be an important influencer to be considered acceptable. After all, what senator didn't love to say he had gay friends? Since Hudson wasn’t likely to announce this change of plans any time soon, his mother thoroughly expected him to come for Christmas with a female companion. Camilla was very likely salivating at the idea of raking her son’s girlfriend over the coals as she dissected every aspect of the poor girl’s breeding and family tree.

Hudson was almost positive that Reagan would never pass muster with his parents. Not that he’d had the chance to ask about her background. He had no idea if she was related to the Queen of England or Jeffrey Dahmer. He knew he was prone to being a selfish bastard, but when he tried to make amends, he went about it the wrong way and she still wouldn't speak to him.

He let himself into his apartment and thought about what she was doing. It was late enough that she was probably in for the night. He pulled his phone out of his pocket as he sat on the couch and turned it over in his hands. He wanted to explain about his father showing up unannounced. He wanted to apologize for not having the nerve to tell her at the time it happened. He wanted to beg her forgiveness for being obtuse. He wanted to ask again for the chance to get to know her.

Instead, Hudson set his phone on the coffee table and made dinner for himself, trying to put it all out of his mind. He should have known that was impossible. His weekend was wide open, and there was Reagan, ignoring his texts and angrier than a spitting cobra when he tracked her down in person. He knew it was dangerous to approach her in public, but surely it wasn't a coincidence that she was there in the cafeteria when he was. He skipped picking up food, thinking that maybe telling her more about himself would soften her toward him.

He decided to do just that. He pulled up the message composer and simply began typing. He told her how his father was an overbearing asshole and that he came over without warning at Camilla’s behest. Hudson explained that he lost his nerve and didn't explain to her immediately on that Friday night what was happening. He apologized for many things, including the way he’d never invited her out anywhere because he was scared. He hated feeling out of control, and he could only blame her for those feelings when in reality it wasn’t her fault. He admitted that his feelings went further than lust but that he was terrified of never living up to his father’s lofty expectations. He poured his heart out to her in text after text.

He waited for an answer, any answer at all. He expected her to reply or maybe even call him. His dinner went cold as he anticipated her response, but none came. Frustrated, he threw his phone on the counter and reheated his dinner. He forced himself to eat as he simmered in anger at her refusal to acknowledge his attempt at apologizing. He tried to tell himself he didn't need her or her forgiveness, but he knew he was lying to himself.

He needed anything she could give him, and he needed it desperately.