I’m psyched to get back to school because it’s almost spring, which means good weather and playing soccer outside again and school’s almost out for the year and…just because. The Sunday I arrive is one of those days after winter when you just have to be outside again, liberated after months of being confined in coats and small airless rooms. I change and grab my cleats and I’m out the door, breathing deep. I jog over to the soccer field and join a bunch of guys for a pick up game. It feels good to be playing hard, to be focused again.

“Ten o’clock!” I hear some guy yell and every head swivels to watch a hot girl jog by.

I almost trip over my feet when I realize it’s Annika. In shorts. I’m already out of breath but my pulse gives a little jump anyway and I track her as I move down field. Her long blond hair swings in a ponytail and her long, long legs eat up the path that runs past the field. When did she get back and why haven’t I heard from her? Then I remember we’re supposed to be avoiding each other. I drag my attention back to the field to avoid slamming into someone and when I look back she’s gone.

I play the rest of the game on autopilot, blocking, stealing, and passing with only half my brain as I process this sudden strong urge to go after Annika. She’s back and I haven’t seen her in a week and all I want to do is hang out with her and catch up and…. Was it like this before the break? I don’t think so. We aren’t even friends. We’re just partners. What’s the matter with me?

But I want to tell her about my week at home, how my sister moped about something and my parents hardly noticed, how I want to look into the Public Policy track within my Poli Sci major, how I heard from Noah and how hung up he is on Holly, even though he won’t admit it….

A bit of motion catches the corner of my eye and I zero in on Annika again, but this time she’s on her way back. I freeze and our eyes meet across the field. Then as she turns away she stumbles, landing hard on the ground. Already I’m in motion.

“Hey, Troubridge! Get your ass back here!”

I hold up a hand to wave the guys off and speed up because even from here I can see blood running down Annika’s leg. She stands awkwardly, wrapping her arms around her chest and shivering. Her face is pale.

“You okay?” I say, dropping to a crouch to look at her leg.

“Hi Matt, how was your break?” she says lightly. I don’t bother to answer that so she sighs, biting her lip.

“I’m fine, but it’s hard not to feel stupid when you fall on your face.”

I stand up and put a hand on her chin to look at her face, which is even lovelier than I remembered, if that’s possible.

“Did you fall on your face?” I murmur. “It doesn’t look like it.” She’s trembling and I move closer to rub her arms. She smiles a little and ducks her head, then shakes it. When she raises her eyes they look wet.

“It doesn’t even hurt much! It’s just… I don’t know. Falling is a shock. One minute you’re upright and the next you’re on the ground. It makes you feel stupid.” The last bit comes out quiet and hesitant and I lean in some more.

“It’s okay. You want to go to the Health Center? Can you walk on it?”

She shakes her head again, then nods and lets me wrap an arm around her shoulder. “Let me help you get home then. We’ll clean out the dirt and wrap it up and you’ll be fine.”

“You shouldn’t.” Her voice is still low but she doesn’t move away. Our eyes meet again and I swear we can hold entire conversations without words. This one seemed to go like this:

Damn, I missed you!

It’s a bad idea but….

I know!

Finally she nods and shifts closer, sniffling. I’m feeling way too mushy so I try to think of things to brace us both up.

“You ski, right? So you’re used to falling.” I already know her passion for winter sports. Most sports, actually. It’s one of the things we share—a love of sports, politics, spicy food…. We’re moving at a snail’s pace, but that’s okay with me right now.

“Matthew.” She stops to give me a severe look. “I don’t fall when I ski.”

I nudge her forward again, amused. “No? When’s the last time you skinned that beautiful knee then?”

I’m rewarded with another tiny smile. “Mmm. Cycling, I think. Two years ago.” She frowns. “On a school holiday in the Netherlands.”

“Your school holidays sound very different from mine…and how did you fall off your bike in a flat country, huh?” My teasing seems to be working because she jabs an elbow into me. I’m relieved—and I realize how much I missed sparring with her.

She recounts her cycling adventures as we walk home and again I’m struck by her foreignness. Yeah, Estonia is small, but Annika’s world seems much bigger than mine. It’s all of Europe. It’s multilingual. It’s cosmopolitan in ways my so-called sophisticated friends could never imagine. It’s humbling.

We get to her dorm and I raise an eyebrow at the stairwell. “No elevator? Tell me you’re on the second floor—”

Her lips press together. “Nope. Fourth.”

I groan. “Well, I’m glad I didn’t offer to carry you then.” I wrap an arm around her waist and help her up the stairs, our hips bumping.

She giggles. “Yeah, good thing. I’m skinny but I’m not light, you know. Too tall.”

I know better than to comment on any girl’s weight, but privately I tighten my hold on her and think that she’s perfect. Tall and slim, but curvy and strong too.

When we get to her room she digs a key out of her waistband and lets herself in. I glance around but there’s no roommate in sight so I leave Annika on the sofa and collect supplies. I’ve been captain of more soccer teams than I can count so I know a thing or two about DIY sports medicine. With Annika’s direction I find everything I need and return to find her lying back on the sofa with her wounded leg outstretched and propped up on a coffee table. I sink into the sofa near her and she sighs, leaning her head back and closing her eyes.

“Thank you, Matt,” she says quietly.

I swallow and nod even though she can’t see me. I’m suddenly all too conscious of her nearness and our aloneness. Wasn’t this the kind of situation we were supposed to avoid? I can’t help running my eyes over her greedily because it’s been so long since I’ve seen her and I feel so starved. Her hair is coming out of the ponytail in silky strands. Her face is pale, with slight shadows under her eyes and hollows under her cheekbones. Her running top is long sleeved but clings to her skin and I can clearly see the outline of her sports bra. Even wounded and tired and sweaty she’s gorgeous, and I haven’t even turned my attention to her bare legs yet. I swallow again, then clear my throat.

“Just do it,” Annika urges, waving a hand vaguely over her extended leg. It’s a very tempting invitation and I take advantage, hoping I’m not actually taking advantage of her too.

I carefully wipe the blood off her shapely calf, sliding my hand down the underside of her leg and marveling at the smoothness of her skin. I let myself explore the delicate bones of her ankle.

“Does this hurt?” I murmur.

I can tell she shakes her head but I can’t look at her or she’ll see how turned on I’m getting. Which is a little horrifying even to me because she’s injured. Still, I’ve got her leg practically in my lap as I swab her cut with hydrogen peroxide. There’s no way I can’t notice all this enticing bare skin. I swirl a cotton ball in circles over and over her poor knee until I feel her tremble. I shift to continue my ministrations underneath, probing gently at the tendons around her kneecap and stroking her skin with my thumb.

“Does this hurt?” I ask again.

She shakes her head vigorously and I take the risk of glancing at her face. Her eyes are half closed and her lips are half open, her face flushed. She looks turned on. We’re both turned on. Again. Shit.

I pick up the ice bag I’ve prepared and run that over her bruised knee, pressing gently. Her skin tenses against the cold and little droplets of water run down her calf. I run my fingers up the inside of her leg, then hesitate.

“Annika?” I sound hoarse.

Her eyelids flicker and she makes a sound more like a breathy moan than a word. It’s not helping and I can’t seem to make my hands stop stroking up and down her leg.

“You’ll tell me if something hurts, right? You’d tell me to stop?”

She nods and moans, “Don’t stop—“

And that’s when my control snaps because this is Annika and I’ve got my hands on her body and it’s been a week and I already know how hot and fast we burn. My hands slide up both her legs now, parting them so I can shift between them. My fingers tease the tops of her thighs, curling under her shorts. She gasps and arches her hips and I start to pull off her shorts, but she flings herself at me, wrapping her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck in a tight embrace.

Then our mouths connect and we’re frantic. Again. Her mouth is hot and soft and she’s panting against me. I’m trying to watch out for her injured leg but her hands have crept under my tee shirt, exploring and stroking, and I’m losing my mind.

“Shower,” she gasps. Oh right, we’re both still sweaty with exercise and the vision of Annika wet and naked is too much to resist. I stand quickly, holding her curvy ass to keep her wrapped around me, and stagger toward the bathroom.

“Roommate?” I pant as I set her down as gently as I can and start the water running. She leans a hip against the sink for support and looks up at me, eyes soft and dazed.

“Not back yet.” She’s pulling on my clothes, eating me up with her eyes as my sweaty top comes off.

“The best kind of roommate,” I manage as I strip off her top and bra. She kicks off her own shorts and I freeze because I thought her body was perfect but it’s different to know that because said body is naked before your eyes. I run a hand reverently down her side from one high pink-tipped breast to one slim hip.

“Annika!” I groan because it’s the only word I can remember. She smiles and steps closer, pushing down my shorts then pressing our bare skin together. We both moan and my mouth dips to suck on her neck while my hands grip her ass. I can’t help flexing my hips to rub my hard on against her.

“Water,” she gasps, swaying as she turns. I steady her with a hand on one elbow as she steps into the shower but I’m seriously distracted by the view.

“I want to come against your ass,” I say as I get in after her. Because my filter is just gone.

Annika stands under the shower spray looking me up and down like she can’t figure out where to start. Her wet hair hangs over one shoulder like a rope, dripping water over a perky breast. With a tiny wicked smile she turns around and says, “Go for it.”

And that, I think in my stupid-lust-brain, is when she blows away every sexual fantasy I’ve ever had.