It takes me almost two weeks to wear her down. I had guesstimated 5-10 days but Annika’s tough and I should know by now that she’ll exceed expectations. She stayed strong through a social media campaign that included Facebook messages, texts, and even a few Instagram photos (nothing “inappropriate”!). I sent her links to restaurants I could take her to, calendar invites for Friday night, and updated weather reports every day. I left voicemails on her cell, put notes in her textbooks, snuck messages under her door. I did everything but commission a skywriter—and that’s only because we’re still supposed to be on the down low. Yeah, I was a nuisance. But it worked.

I saunter into the classroom to see her frowning into her phone. Holly is leaning over her, whispering. When they see me they both shut up.

“I give in,” Annika grumbles, crossing her arms over her very sexy breasts. Holly nudges her. “But it has to stay quiet, Matt! I’ve made too much progress to raise gossip about us again.” Holly nods vehemently.

I spread my arms wide and grin at her. “No problem! So what did it for you? Was it the song I wrote you last night? May I just mention that I pulled this off without ever resorting to seduction? That slowed me waaaay down, you know, but I was trying to play fair and show what a good guy I am.” I wink at her.

“Shut up!” she growls just as Holly says “what song?” with an avid look at both of us. Annika shakes her head and mutters. “You don’t want to know.”

I ignore Holly and drag my chair over to theirs. “I’ll have you know, Annika, that you’ve been a worthy adversary. Asking Lucy to make me stop harassing you was a nice touch.”

“It didn’t work,” she spits out. “And ‘worthy adversary’ doesn’t bode well for our so-called ‘date.’” She’s still frowning and I can sense the anxiety underneath all that delightful prickliness.

“In our case, it does.” I speak gently and reach out to squeeze her hand because I’m a little nervous about this too. But happy and relieved and excited and hella turned on just by sitting next to her. It’s been a looooong time since that amazing afternoon I spent in her bed. And shower.

“Friday. Seven o’clock,” I declare.

“Friday is that thing Lani’s dancing in. We have to show support.”

We both scan the classroom but instead of the usual Kyle-and-Lani there’s just Kyle, watching the door like he’s afraid it might disappear if he blinks.

“Okay. We start there then go on our date. No excuses! And dress up! We’ll go somewhere nice. This is a real date and we’re not going to fight…unless we want to.” I smile when she flushes.

I can’t wait.

* * *

So we bicker over when to meet, then where. But when she opens her door Friday night at 7:30 it’s worth it. She’s breathtakingly beautiful pretty much all the time, but she’s so casual about her looks that it’s sometimes possible to get past them. Not tonight. Tonight she’s dressed up in a body-skimming dress and heels and her hair and face are “done” somehow and there’s no way to not notice. We stare at each other for a moment, then I hold up a finger.

“One kiss.”

And then I pull her towards me and my mouth is on hers, in hers, and her body is perfectly tucked into mine and my body is thrumming.

“That’s it!” I say, gasping for breath. “Now we gotta go.” I grab her hand and practically drag her away from her door, which is too perilously close to her room and her bed and filled with memories of all the things we did last time I was here.

“Uh. Hi, Matt,” Annika laughs and I’m literally tingling. I stop abruptly on the stairs and she grabs my arm for balance. I have to lean on the handrail because I feel unsteady too.

“Sorry. Hi, Annika. You look so unbelievably beautiful I’m afraid I’ll ravish you before our date even starts. Just saying.” I meet her eyes and give her a shaky smile, which she returns.

“Got it. You look pretty edible yourself.” Her eyes roam over me and I’m glad I listened to my mom and brought a suit with me to college, which seemed utterly pointless at the time.

“The gym!” I say sternly, turning again to descend. “Lani’s on in 15….”

We burst out of the dorm and dash over to the gym, holding hands—and to hell with whoever sees us. The weather is mild again, though we still need jackets. Once we get there it’s crowded and we’re less conspicuous being so dressed up--and together. Some douchebags try to talk to Annika and I see some of my frat brothers trying to get my attention, but it’s surprisingly easy to tune everything else out. After Lani’s dance we look for her and Kyle.

“You were awesome!” Annika beams, hugging her.

“It was super fun!” Lani admits. “Don’t you look amazing! What are you all dressed up for?”

Annika blushes a little and shrugs. Now both Kyle and Lani are looking back and forth between us speculatively.

“Are you two on a date?” Lani asks, eyes wide. Kyle snickers.

“Yes.”

“No.”

Annika and I answer at the same time, then look at each other. Kyle and Lani burst out laughing.

“You need an intervention? We can find Noah and Holly.” Kyle goads. When he and Lani were fighting the rest of us staged an intervention to make them talk to each other.

“Ask me tomorrow,” I say, watching Annika.

“Noah’s out running and Holly’s skyping with her boyfriend.” Annika blurts into the awkward silence.

“She’s got a boyfriend?” Kyle asks, confused.

Lani sighs. “Back in California. We’ve all got our melodramas….”

Just then some jerk face taps Annika on the shoulder. “Excuse me,” he asks, reddening. “Aren’t you a model?”

“Nope,” she snorts. I only need to give him one look before he scurries away.

Lani looks amused. “You know, a lot of girls would be flattered….”

“Yeah, I do know.” Annika looks glum. “It’s hard to complain, right? But everyone just assumes that’s all I could want. I tried it for a while and it’s definitely not for me…. They all think I’m Russian too—like I’m a walking cliché,“ she complains. Then she notices their expressions and stops.

“Oh my god! You too? Really?” She throws up her arms in disgust.

“She’s Estonian,” I explain patiently, my gaze still on Annika. “She hates it when people think she’s Russian.”

“Oh!” Lani tries to look suitably sympathetic while Kyle blurts out “Where the fuck is Estonia?”

I lean forward to stage-whisper. “Shut up, dammit! You’ll wake her inner bitch.”

Annika shrieks, “I heard that! Matt! You’re hateful!” She smacks my arm hard while Kyle and I crack up. And it’s nice to have a group of friends I can be myself with, people I trust. Soon afterwards Kyle and Lani make their escape, then we make ours, slinking out the back exit that’s nearest the parking lot.

“Nice!” Annika says appreciatively when I open the passenger door of my car for her.

I round the car and get in. “The gesture or my car?”

“The car! But okay, both.” She settles into her seat, smiling. “I love beemers. And the old 3 series is one of my favorite designs, but I’ve never driven one. You’ll let me?”

“Not if you call my car old! It’s vintage, honey.” I love my car too and it’s really fun to drive. I pull out of the parking lot, aware of Annika watching me shift.

“Pleeease! I rarely even see manual cars here.” She pouts distractingly.

I tap my fingers on the wheel. “Tell you what. I’ll drive you down to D.C. when school’s over and you can take it on the highway.”

“Really?” She practically squeals and I laugh when I glance at her face. But then it falls again. “I can’t let you do that—it’s too far.”

“Nah, it’s on my way home.” There’s a pause while she thinks about it. It’s already mid-April and I’m surprised to realize there are only three more weeks of classes. I should be happier about that.

“My parents were serious about offering you their house, you know.” I add, breaking the silence.

She shakes her head. “I don’t get it. And I can’t accept.”

“Why not?” I frown, glancing over again. She’s twisting a ring around a finger.

She shrugs. “It just wouldn’t feel right. Why would they offer anyway?” Her brow wrinkles.

“I told you. They like you. And they aren’t there as much over the summer.”

“But your mom expected me to use you for some advantage so why would she offer one?”

Now I shrug. “To head you off? She’s nothing if not practical. Maybe she figures she’d rather offer you something than wait to see what you ask for. But I’m telling you, she’s not a bitch. She just lives in a pretty cynical world and sometimes navigates that way.”

Annika says nothing so I glance at her again and see she’s chewing her lip and smoothing her hands restlessly over her legs.

“No, I don’t think she’s a bitch. How’s Lucy?” She switches subjects.

“Better. My parents came down hard on the school for not intervening in the bullying. And Lucy came out to them.” I’m incredibly proud of her.

“And?” Annika prompts, watching me closely.

“And they were cool. I think everyone’s relieved that we got through this pretty painlessly . My parents even thanked me for taking such good care of her.” That had been a surprise, for sure. “Though I gave you some of the credit.”

“You were great—and I’m glad your parents were cool with it, though I wish that were a given.”

“Europe’s supposed to be less uptight about sex than the U.S.” I say lightly as I pull into the parking lot.

“Yeah, but….” She pauses and I can’t keep my eyes on her while I’m driving so I have to listen carefully for her tone. She sounds hesitant. “It’s hard to explain. We’re definitely more tolerant of bodies—varieties of beauty, nudity, that kind of stuff. Growing up I saw my parents naked, the beaches are topless….”

She stops at my choking sound and rolls her eyes. “God, Americans are so weird about breasts. They’re like no big deal.”

I laugh. “Now you’ve got me torn. Between wanting to live somewhere where topless beaches are a thing and not wanting to live somewhere where breasts are no big deal. That sounds like a loss.”

I park and get out and round the car to join her, standing near her for a moment to breathe her in and slide a hand over the warm skin of her arm. Her cheeks are lightly pink.

“That’s the other thing, though. Maybe this is just my circle, but we don’t talk so much about sex in Europe. Here in the States people talk about everything—how much money they make, who they’re screwing and how, whether they believe in God and why…. We don’t talk about any of that. That stuff’s private.”

She shakes her head in confusion as we walk toward the restaurant, my hand on her elbow. “You wouldn’t believe what the girls in my dorm say out loud! Oh, maybe you would. It’s probably less shocking than what the guys say.” She sounds resigned and I smile.

“Who cares what other people talk about?” I shrug as we’re led to a corner table. I chose this restaurant because it’s far enough away that we won’t be noticed and quiet so we can talk.

“You don’t?” She flips her hair over her shoulder as we sit down and lifts her pale eyes to mine. In the dim light of the restaurant she seems to glow and now that we’re face to face again I can stare at her.

I take her hand in mine and play with her fingers as I think about that. “Not so much. I know that’s what you complained about me in the first place—that I care more about what other people think than what I want myself. That I surround myself with phonies and let myself be like them.”

She opens her mouth—to protest? But I squeeze her hand to cut her off. I want to think this through.

“I can see that pattern now. But I don’t think it’s really about them, about what other people say or do. It’s more like….”

I’m embarrassed to be so inarticulate so I keep my eyes on Annika’s hand, smoothing my fingers over palm. I sense her stillness though, her attention. And her attention lights me up. Not just sexually either. It’s like she energizes me.

“It’s about me,” I admit reluctantly because that sounds so lame and self-centered. “It’s hard to know what I want in all the static around me. But when I figure that out it’s not hard to do my own thing. Then it doesn’t matter what other people do or say.”

I pause uncertainly and Annika squeezes my hand back. We’re interrupted by a waiter and we hurriedly order some food, any food, just to get rid of him.

“Do you think it’s about knowing what you want or giving yourself permission to want it?” Annika resumes when he’s gone.

We’ve reached for each other again and it’s somehow easier to talk on two levels at once—with our words and with our hands. I want to know what that would feel like in bed. Desperately.

“For me, it’s about knowing. I’ve never been a particularly introspective person and I’m finding out I don’t know myself very well at all. The permission part is easy for me. I’m used to giving myself permission.” I feel ridiculously self-conscious but she smiles at me, not her blinding full-force smile but a little amused smile.

She sighs. “I am afraid that for me it’s often the opposite. I know what I want but I don’t give myself permission to want it. It’s easy to allow myself to want an A on some test or an internship at an NGO or a vintage 3-series BMW….”

Her mouth twists. “But I’m discovering it’s harder to admit I want a friend or a boyfriend.” She turns her palm up under mine and I want nothing more than to haul her onto my lap.

“I don’t want to want that. So instead I blow it up.” She lifts her hands to make a gesture of explosion.

The food arrives just then and we spend the rest of the meal like that. Talking. Talking seriously. It’s unlike any other dinner I’ve ever had, let alone a date. But, weirdly, we’re puzzling over the same stuff about belonging and being true to yourself. I find myself fascinated by her approach to the same problems, and moved when she’s willing to be candid with me. That makes me willing to be candid with her and we’re spiraling into this strange sort of intimacy that I never expected.

She’s quiet as we leave the restaurant and quiet as we get back in the car. It’s dark now and the silence is companionable. Maybe we’re both sifting through what we figured out tonight. And wondering how the rest of this “do-over” will work.

Annika turns in her seat so she’s curled toward me and I’m very conscious of her gaze as we head back to campus. The only sounds and motion come from outside our little bubble in the car. When I brave a glance she looks thoughtful.

“What?” Blunt is the best way with her.

“This was nice.”

I grimace. “Surprised?”

She chuckles. “Yes? No? I’m not sure. Aren’t you a little surprised?”

“That it was nice to have dinner with you? No. That we didn’t end up fighting? Yeah, kind of. But there’s still time.” I grin at her. I hear her shifting restlessly in her seat.

“I think you’re using ‘fighting’ as code,” she says primly.

“Yep.” I glance at her and laugh at her blush. “Hey,” I say more seriously, grabbing her hand again. “No pressure, okay? This is not a repeat of the last time. It’s a do-over so we get it right this time.” I kiss her palm and don’t want to let it go.

She sighs and stirs again, her fingers curling on mine. Her little motions are getting to me.

“You’ve never pressured me. Even that night. When you passed out,” she teases.

“Ah, this is when you show your teeth again, huh?” I keep my eyes glued to the road.

She scratches one hand down my arm and it feels like an electrical shock. “No, claws.”

“Jesus, Anni!” My heart is racing as we pull back into the campus parking lot. Her fingernails continue a path down my thigh. I park the car, stumble out my side and nearly yank her out her door and into my arms.

“You like?” She whispers, wrapping her arms around me and clinging close.

“I like,” I groan against her lips, pressing her into the side of the car and diving into her sweet mouth. After all that talking I feel so close to her. But not nearly close enough.

“What next?” I ask when I come up for air. My eyes search hers. She wriggles against me and I have to close my eyes because it’s too damned much.

“Your place,” she breathes.

Thank God!