"No, really Mom. I have a boyfriend.”

Mom's looking at me like I'm nuts, and I guess it has been a while since I've been this excited to share the news with my parents that I'm seeing someone. Then again, when you compare Duncan and the weekend we just had to any other guy I've ever gone out on a date with . . . there's no comparison.

We made love. Oh, sure, we didn't use those words, and there wasn't any mention of the L-word between us, but hey, a girl can hope.

Mom, however, isn't so optimistic. "Honey, that's nice to hear, I guess. Who is it?"

"Duncan Hart. He's one of the guys on the football team. We kinda met that way."

"I see," Mom says, and there's movement in the background, and Dad comes into the field of view. "Vince, Carrie's seeing someone."

"Oh really?" Dad says, taking a seat next to her. They're in the living room of our house, it looks like, and Dad looks tired. He must have just gotten back from another run. "Who is it, sweetheart?"

"Duncan Hart. He's the tight end for the Bulldogs."

They both look less than pleased, and I lean back, crossing my arms. "What is it? I figured you guys would be happy for me. You know, two years without a boyfriend and all?"

"It's not that, honey," Dad says, looking over at Mom. "It's just that . . . well, he's a football player. And I think I know that name.”

"He's got a good chance of going pro next year. First round, even.”

Dad nods, then sighs. "Carrie, football players tend to be . . . well, they tend to have egos and personas that aren't exactly our style."

"You mean you think because he’s a star on the team, that he's a superstar in real life?" I shoot back, getting angry. How could my parents be upset like this? “He's a good guy. Perfect? No, but a good guy. And he's making something of himself."

"Yeah, a million-dollar contract and a trophy wife," Dad gripes, then winces. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"No, you shouldn't have," I say, then take a deep breath. I don't want to blow up with my parents, especially over a video chat. Any time you get mad at someone over the Internet, you just end up feeling like an ass later. "Listen, I need to study. I've got a mid-term tomorrow. I need to crack the books on it. I'll talk to you later."

I hang up before they can reply, and turn away, frustrated. I don't really need to study. After my initial struggles with Organic Chemistry, I've gotten the hang of it pretty well. A lot of it is that I'm able to connect it back to my training studies, and to be honest, tutoring Duncan. Which, I think as I smile to myself, he hardly needs. He could pass that class with or without my help, but it’s nice to be able to spend time with him on what I guess we can now call study dates.

Something I look forward to more and more.

* * *

"Okay, class, you will have exactly ninety minutes to complete the test and turn it in. Please make sure you show your work on any mathematical calculations, and fill out your test papers legibly, please? I'm not going to go back to try to figure out any chicken scratches, so if I can't read it, it gets marked wrong, regardless of what you mean to say."

"Good luck," I hear whispered behind me, and I turn, surprised to see Chelsea Brown sitting there.

"What are you doing in this class?" I ask, surprised. "I've never seen you before."

"Don't let it get out, but I took this class when I was a sophomore," she whispers back. "I only pulled a 'C' though, so I was hoping to audit the course and maybe get a better grade this time. Unfortunately for me, I forgot that I have my capstone course exactly thirty minutes after this class starts, so I've been mostly just reviewing the online lectures and the notes. At least I can't get lower than a C this time!"

I chuckle and turn back forward as Professor Vladisova comes by, passing out the test papers face down on the desk. She's a major pain in the ass, but I can deal with it. Science is science, not a matter of whether you like your professor or not, and as she comes back around to the front of the classroom, she looks over everyone with her cold, dark eyes. "You may begin."

* * *

As I’m coming up on the last ten questions, I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. I know I should leave it alone, but if I do, then the tone on my voicemail is going to go off. It's a weird setting, I know, but it works for me, and I pull the phone out, seeing that it’s Duncan. "Miss Mittel?"

"Sorry, Professor," I say, hitting the Call Cancel button. I quickly type out a text message. What?

Can you talk? Please.

I look at the clock, and see that I still have plenty of time, thirty minutes with only ten problems remaining. I stand up, setting my pencil and paper face down on my desk. I leave the room and head into the hallway, calling Duncan as I go.

"Hey. How was the test?"

His voice sounds a little strange, and I frown. What's wrong? "I still have thirty minutes on it. I probably shouldn’t have left class to call you . . . you know I’m in the middle of the test, right? It must be important.”

"Oh, damn, I forgot. Listen, can you meet me at the stadium right after your test is finished? It's important."

I’m still getting this weird feeling about his voice, but maybe it’s just the stress that he’s feeling. After all, he is supposed to be meeting with the football coaches today about his suspension. "Sure. At one?"

"One is good enough. Thanks, Carrie. See you."

Duncan hangs up, and I put my phone back in my pocket. I'm worried. His voice just sounded . . . weird. Like he was upset about something, or maybe sad? And I still don’t understand how he could’ve forgotten I was in my test, but I don't have time to think about it. I still need to finish my test.

Professor Vladisova is giving me a strange look when I come back in from the hallway, but I brush it off, sitting down and turning my test back over. I'm lucky the last ten questions are easy. I'd crammed them last night, and they are almost direct copies from the book. I finish them just as the Professor calls out the five-minute warning, and I check my paper for last-minute mistakes or stupid errors. "Time."

Going up, I hand in my paper, and she’s still looking at me strangely. "Sorry, Professor," I say, thinking maybe she's upset about me taking a personal call during test time. "I had a personal issue. My boyfriend."

"I see, Miss Mittel," she says and sets my paper down. I turn to leave. I have just enough time to get to the stadium by one o'clock if I hurry. I rush back and grab my bag, heading out the door with a quick goodbye to Chelsea, who's still sitting calmly, a little smile on her face. She must have done well on the test.

I get to the stadium just a few minutes before one and see Duncan by the tunnel that leads from the outside to the inside of the stadium. It's currently locked, but it's a common meet-up point, and I wave as I see him. Rushing over, I jump into his arms, giving him a big kiss. "Damn you! You nearly got me in trouble, but it's so good to see you!"

"I missed you too," Duncan says, his voice still strange, but his hands are working their magic again, and I feel the warmth spreading through me. "Yesterday was so hard without you."

"I'm sorry about that," I force out between kisses, trying to think, but his lips are nibbling on my earlobe, and it's so hard to think. He cups my ass, and I groan deeply, unable to help myself. "What are you doing?"

"Needing you," Duncan says, pushing me up against the concrete wall. "I need you so much."

"Duncan, slow down," I reply, pushing him away with effort. I'm breathing hard, my nipples are aching inside my bra, and my body is aching for him . . . but why is my heart not into this?

I see it in his eyes. Oh no. Oh, fuck no.

"Carrie, I need something special before the meeting," Duncan says, his eyes dead even as his voice drips with desire.

He comes toward me again, and I put my hands up, pushing him away. "No. You're not going to do it."

"Do what? I just need you," Duncan says, and I let my anger give me strength. I shove him back, away from me, and he takes a full step backward before stopping.

"What you need is to stop running away," I state, stepping away from the wall. "I know what you're trying to do. For some reason . . . I’ve had this gut feeling ever since that call. For some unknown fucking reason, you think that you need to Hart Attack me, don't you? Don't you?"

“Come on, Carrie," Duncan says, his voice desperate. He's tormenting himself, and for some reason, he's not thinking clearly. "It's the only way. I don't want to hurt you."

"You think a quick romp and then cutting me loose will make it any better? I see it written all over your face,” I yell, jabbing him in the chest. He takes another step back, but I follow, staying right in his face. "Well, Duncan Hart, I'm not going to let you do it. Do you understand me? I won’t let you run away this time."

"What do you mean?" Duncan asks, his voice trying to play it off, but falling far short.

“This weekend, it wasn’t just some weekend sex marathon. I saw it in your eyes when you dropped me off Sunday. I don't know what’s changed since then, since you told me you wanted to become a better person. And I don't know what inner demons are telling you that you need to do this, but you need to choke them down, kill them! Kill those demons, because they're tearing you apart. You don't really want to do this. You just want an excuse."

"An excuse for what?" Duncan says, his eyes shimmering with emotion and pain. "For what?"

"An excuse to not fight those demons. Here's what's going to happen—I’m going to walk away right now, and you're going to stay here and think. Have your meeting with the coaches and find out what's going to happen. I'm going to go down to the weight room, do my workout for Coach T, and wait. I'll wait as long as you need me to, because I care about you."

"What if I can't fight them?” Duncan asks, backing away to lean against the concrete on the far side of the tunnel. "What if I can't fight it?"

"You can. I know you can. I’ll help, but you have to take that first step yourself. When you're ready, call me. I’ll be there, I promise you. I want to be a couple, not a threesome with you, me, and your inner demons."

I stand up and walk away, trying not to cry, but the best I can do is force one foot in front of another, crossing the street and going down the steps to the basement of the Pavilion. Once inside, I find the nearest bathroom and have the cry that I've needed, and I blow my nose loudly before standing back up. I have work to do.