“Do you think I should end my paper with the secretary of state’s trip to Africa this week?” Annika asks, peering at her laptop screen. We’re sitting across the table from each other and it still feels too close.

“You mean bring the history up to current events?” I sift through a pile of printouts, trying not to look at her. Because this truce is precarious and I don’t want to blow it. And our friends are coming back any minute now and I don’t want them to see me sweat. No one sees me sweat (except Annika. Shit.)

“Yeah.”

We talk through the conclusion of her paper for Contemporary Crises and my take-home final for International Finance. Since I’m a Poli Sci major and she’s in International Relations our courses overlap. We’re both news junkies too.

So when I hear the click of the lock opening and the doorknob turning I’m gratified that Annika and I might resemble any other two students studying together. We can turn to those infuriating meddlers and face them down as if we’ve never fought or kissed, as if I’ve never been inside her or heard her moan my name. I have to tighten my grip on the reins again.

“So?” Holly asks, eyes flitting back and forth between me and Annika. I start collecting my stuff and shrug.

“All good,” Annika says easily.

“Yeah?” Noah frowns, still holding the keys in his hand.

“Of course! Why wouldn’t we be? We’re friends,” I challenge. Noah scratches his chin and glances at Holly for help.

“You two can be friends? Just friends?” Now Holly sounds skeptical.

“Of course!” Annika repeats, shrugging too. She puts away her laptop, averting her eyes and I wonder if we’re laying it on too thick. Then I get distracted by the way her hair falls over her shoulder like a silvery-golden veil.

“This is going to be harder than I thought,” Holly mutters.

Annika says something about our papers and how much work we got done and I’m grateful she’s still talking because my wits are scattering again. I keep thinking of the text Kyle sent me when we first got locked in together: Don’t fuck this up, man! If you don’t snap her up someone else will—

Like I’m not well aware of that already! I try to tune back into the conversation. As we leave the room I see Lani and Kyle sitting close together at a nearby table, watching. I glare at them both.

“We should really set at a time to play some tennis, like we said we would, huh Matt?”

Annika is really pulling this off. I sneak another glance at her and notice she doesn’t look quite as composed as she sounds. At least to me. I can see the faint flush on her cheeks, the tension in her hands as she holds a stack of books against her chest like a plate of armor.

“Sure thing—” I have to swallow hard because I almost called her Anni again and I have to stop that. It’s just that sometimes when I look at her I can only manage two syllables, not three. She gives me a funny look before retreating with a little wave. I watch her walk away because her ass is perfect, then realize they can all see me checking her out. I turn back to the four of them with a scowl.

“You all suck.”

Then I gotta get out of there.

* * *

As soon as classes and finals are over I start to freak out about the summer. No classes? Great. But no coffee house, no Annika, no school friends, no soccer team, no Annika…? I have nothing to tie her to me so I remind her of my offer to drive her to D.C. and my mom’s offer of our house. To say my mom had surprised me with that would be an understatement. But she does like to keep an eye on people.

It’s too much, Annika texts me when I bring it up again.

We’re friends, right? Friends do things like this for each other. And not the other stuff I’ve been dreaming about way too often, I remind myself sternly.

I don’t know—

My shoulders tense as I text back. You don’t know if we’re friends?

There’s a long pause and I can picture her biting her lip, temptingly.

Of course we are.

I exhale. This is going to take a long time, but she’s worth it.

Then I’m driving you to D.C. and you’re staying at our house.

I can’t help it so I add. Unless you’d rather go back to fighting and fucking?

This answer comes immediately. Okay, okay! Nvm! I’ll stay at your house! You can drive me! Asshole!

I can’t help smiling. That sounds an awful lot like fighting again.

Another pause.

Don’t flirt. Please.

She’s right and it sucks.

Got it. Friends.