He doesn’t remember. It’s such a shock that I can’t even process what it means at first. It’s not til I get back to my room after dinner that I flop onto my bed and think this through. Reluctantly I review how the shit hit the table. And cringe. If Matt woke up in bed next to me, with no idea what happened, what would he do?

I sigh. Now that I know him a little better I get it. He’d say nothing. He’d do nothing, just like he did with the cheating scandal. He was an idiot, not a lying asshole. He takes the easy path. And I always take the hard one. What a pair we are! Matt used the English word for situations like this where everything that could go wrong does, but I can’t remember it.

Before I can think about it any more my phone beeps.

We have to talk.

I snort. He’s clearly not taking the easy path now. But it’s already 10 p.m. and I resist.

Now?? I’m pretty busy.

He writes back instantly.

NOW!

It’s been a year already. Can’t it wait another day?

I know I sound whiny, but I’m stalling.

Coffeehouse. 15.

OMG! This guy is going to be the death of me.

30, I type back, and I have to admit it’s sort of fun to needle him.

15!!!!

We fight via text for fifteen more minutes while I’m getting ready and then I head out.

When I get there I’m surprised to see he’s already there, already surrounded by friends, in fact. Instantly I realize we have a problem and hover near the door, wondering what to do now. We can’t talk here! There are too many people, I think with dismay. And, as usual, there are guys in the room checking me out, until I give them my patented Ice Goddess glare and they cower. Together Matt and I will get too much attention. Everyone knows our history and there will be more snickers and rumors and…I can’t deal with that again.

Over the head of some girl Matt’s eyes meet mine and I see a flicker of awareness. His brow furrows and we communicate wordlessly across the room. Then I turn and leave.

It’s February so I can hardly wait outside, but the library is next door so I stand just inside its entrance, pretending to rummage through my bag for my I.D. Within a few minutes Matt is next to me, with his I.D. in his hand. After we swipe in I follow him toward the study rooms, lagging behind for good measure. God, how ridiculous this is!

Downstairs he hustles us into one of the little rooms and shuts the door, dropping heavily into a chair.

“Sorry about that,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. It’s still a little damp, as if he showered recently.

And that’s not an image I need in my head because I do remember that night. Curling up against the smooth hard muscles of his arms and chest. The heat of his mouth. All that--clean, damp and wrapped in a towel? Danger!

I take a chair at an angle from his, keeping my distance.

He lifts his shoulders and sighs. He looks terrible, for a change. Wrung out and stressed.

“How was practice?” I ask, delaying too.

He meets my eyes and shrugs. “Quit stalling. Tell me. What happened?” He tenses as if waiting for a blow.

I wonder where to begin. I don’t know how much I want him to know. “I had no idea you didn’t know what happened. I couldn’t figure out why you were lying about it.”

“Lying about what??” His arms go up in frustration and his voice rises. And his anger sparks my anger again.

“About taking my virginity, asshole!” I’m trembling.

“I didn’t tell anyone that! We’ve been over this. Why would I do that? It makes me seem like a total player and I assumed nothing happened!” He scowls darkly at me. Then he pauses. “I wouldn’t do that,” he repeats more softly.

Warmth starts seeping into my veins again and I need to resist, resist, resist. This is why I went upstairs with him. Because he seemed so earnest, so trustworthy. I stay silent and his eyes fall.

“I thought you spread that rumor. Just to make me look bad. But neither of us had to say anything,” he says wearily. “Everyone else talked for us.” He rubs a big hand against his jaw, looking frustrated. He’s lost his usual cool facade but it makes him even more appealing somehow.

“Tell me,” he says again simply.

“Tell me what you remember and I’ll pick up where you leave off,” I counter. He gets up and walks around the small windowless room, making it feel even smaller. I’m intensely aware that we haven’t been alone together since That Night. I can see him trying to figure out how much to tell me too. He closes his eyes for a second, then opens them to fix on me.

“I saw you arrive at the party. You were wearing skinny jeans just like the ones you’re wearing now—and a dark blue sweater and your hair was loose. It was a Friday formal. Everyone else was dressed up. You were dressed down.” He pauses and glances away from me as if needing a break.

I nod, confirming all this. “Yes. I didn’t know about the formal. You were wearing dress pants, a white Oxford shirt, wing tips. If you had a jacket or tie once they were gone by the time I got there.”

His gaze is back and this feels very intense. Intimate.

He continues. “Of course, even then there were guys trailing you around, but you didn’t talk to them. You were polite, but I must have seen you quietly shrug off six guys. I was working the bar when I overheard the scene with Geoff. Then he left and you just stood there.” He breaks off again. “What did Geoff say?” he asks abruptly.

I inhale and look away myself. I force my voice to sound neutral. “He was an asshole. He a friend of yours?” I try to make the last part sound sweet and sarcastic, but I’m not sure it works.

Matt grinds his teeth. I’ve never seen him like this—all his smoothness ruffled up. Except that night. “A frat brother and president before me. And yeah, he’s an asshole.”

“Then we talked and then we went upstairs….” I continue haltingly. I prop my legs on another chair, remembering how I had swung them when they hung off the counter.

He nods. “To my room. With the vodka. And while we drank shots you told me about Estonia and Lena and Maire back home and the uniforms they made you wear in high school and the difference between the Estonian language and Russian, which are not from the same root…. We argued about whether governments should bail out failing banks, of all things.”

He pauses and I marvel at all this detail. I remember how talking to him had felt…easy. It was November and I had been in school—in the U.S.—for two months. It was the very first thing that had felt easy. I was so happy and excited.

Matt shoves his hands in his pockets, looking uncharacteristically awkward. “I remember you lying on my bed.” He gets a faraway look and I can’t tell what he’s thinking. “And that’s it. Next thing I know it’s morning and you were wearing my tee shirt. And your jeans,” he adds hastily, then hesitates. “But I don’t even remember if I kissed you.”

He looks at me earnestly, like he wants something. Or needs something. My heart beats faster. I’m swamped with feelings but I’m not sure what they are either. If only things had gone the way I thought they would.

“You kissed me,” I mumble and feel my face warming.

He leans back against a wall and looks at the ceiling, his whole body tense. “I hope I enjoyed it.” Then he pushes off again in frustration. “Hell, I know I enjoyed it! I just wish I could remember it.” He looks at me again with so much chagrin that I’m tempted to smile.

“You seemed to enjoy it,” I reassure him. I twist my hands together and stare at them. I’ve spent a year trying to forget that one kiss and now he wants to remember it?

“Did you?” he asks softly, coming a little nearer.

“I did,” I confirm, even more softly. He’s making me very nervous.

“Damn,” he says, watching me. His hands are still jammed in his pockets as if he’s struggling to keep them still. I know I’m wrestling for control—those memories, his nearness again, this intimacy. That night was just us; it was ours alone. Until it wasn’t. I jolt back to reality with a thud.

“So to pick up where you left off. We drank some shots and talked and kissed and stuff….” God, this is awkward! “And you spilled vodka on me so my sweater got soaked and I changed into one of your shirts. In the bathroom,” I emphasize.

His gaze trails down my body. I shiver and try again to get a hold of myself. Remember what happens next, Annika!

“Your charming housemates caught me in the hallway and made sure to embarrass me. And when I got back you were asleep.”

I shrug, though he’s the one embarrassed now. I don’t mention how I wavered, wondering what to do, before deciding I didn’t want to face those jerks in the hall again. I tucked myself next to Matt’s warm, strong body and believed that this was the beginning of something real. I brace myself all over again for the hurt to come.

“Then when I woke up Geoff and some other guy were standing over me, leering,” I say coolly.

Matt visibly cringes before turning away from me. “Yeah, about that—I’m sorry.” He’s still turned away and his voice is hard to hear. “I had no idea what to say when I woke up, hung over, or why they were in my room.”

“Do you remember what they said?” I’m going cold again, just like I did back then at that moment.

“Umm, yeah.”

“I do too. Very clearly. Geoff crowed that the other guy owed him fifty bucks because he was right. Matt had bagged the Russian girl. And the other guy said I would be worth at least fifty bucks, especially if I were a virgin.” I raise my eyebrows in challenge as I feel the crushing blow all over again. “And you said….” I prompt him.

“Nothing.” He meets my eyes directly. “I said nothing.” He sighs. “It was a fuck up of Shakespearean proportions.” He leans forward. “I’m sorry, Annika. I was just…confused and I couldn’t remember. But that’s no excuse.”

It had been mortifying. And chastening. That the guy who seemed so great the night before had turned into such an asshole and a liar, that a night I thought was special had meant nothing to him, that I had been such a fool, misunderstanding what was going on around me. As usual. I feel myself getting teary and give myself a mental shake. Time to get tough!

Then his head lifts and there’s so much remorse there that I’m the one taken aback. “I should have shut them up right away.”

I stand up and pace. “That’s why it was so easy for everyone to believe those rumors, even if you didn’t start them. Because you said nothing.”

He nods. “I did try to apologize though. I tried to talk to you later that day. You reamed me out.”

“Well, yeah. I was upset!” I hiss.

I did have a few choice Russian words for him. First that morning in his room, while his brothers laughed their heads off. Then later when he found me in the cafeteria and tried to pull me away for a conversation. I really let him have it then, in front of everyone. He had looked astonished. Like this couldn’t be happening to him.

His expression hardens. “But you…! Then you went and posted that shit on Facebook!” He shakes his head, still sounding incredulous.

Now it’s my turn to cringe. The gossip about me and Matt had been unbearable, but I didn’t handle it well. That was pretty much the nail in my coffin, the bitter pill on top of the sundae or whatever they say here.

“I told you I was upset…!” I had regretted that Facebook post immediately afterward but word spread damned fast. And then, just as quickly, word spread that I had lied about it. And that’s when things got even worse.

“I was all alone here, Matt! I had no friends! I didn’t understand how to do anything! Then everyone turned on me!” I blink rapidly. He closes in on me and jabs a finger at my collarbone.

“Because of what you did, not because of what I did! I was a jerk! I know! But we could have talked about it or.…” He stops talking, but he stays in my face.

“I was so angry! I thought you lied about me on purpose! I thought you were embarrassed by me – this awkward foreigner everyone thought was a virgin!”

He’s too close and I’m saying too much. I want to bite back my words as soon as I say them, but he just looks confused.

“What?? Don’t be ridiculous! You turned on me, not the other way around!”

He keeps jabbing at me so I put my hands on his shoulders to push him away, but my fingers clutch him instead. Our voices are rising, though I’m vaguely aware that we’re still in the library.

“You turned on me first!” I shout.

His eyes drop to my mouth and it’s like a brush fire. We’re both turned on. I don’t know who moves first but our mouths smash together and the heat of it astounds me. His mouth… oh my god, his mouth! I hear moans and panting and I’m not even sure who is making which sounds because all that fierce emotion has turned into wild pleasure. My nails dig into his flesh and his hands move to my ass to pull me tight against him, which feels unbelievably good. I shift restlessly, wanting more, and he groans without leaving my mouth. This is what it was like that night, kissing him and feeling so much, feeling like we were meant for each other.

But then I woke up.

I push him away with a gasp. His chest is heaving and he still looks furious.

“No way!” he says, backing away from me. “Not again!” Then he stalks out and I’m alone.