I think of myself as an easygoing kind of guy but that girl makes my blood boil. I grind my teeth because I don’t know what to do about her, how to think about her, what I want from her. And it’s torture.

When I get back to my room I try to focus on my homework, but I’m too riled up. Finally I fling myself back on my bed and just stare at the ceiling, trying to make sense of how I’m feeling. Annika’s right – I should feel relieved that nothing happened that night. Or nothing serious. I flounder because I still can’t remember enough for myself. No amount of reporting from Annika is going to solve that problem. I still won’t know what it meant to me. If anything.

But that’s bullshit again, and I’m getting better at calling my own bullshit now. The Clusterfuck meant something to me too. It shook me up. It made me question my sense of myself as a good guy. Good guys don’t get so drunk they pass out! Good guys don’t sleep with (in either sense of the word) a girl they really like and then just drop her! Then say nothing when people diss her all over campus! I run a hand through my hair in frustration because now I know I only did some of that, not all of it. Is that good enough? Am I good enough? Annika doesn’t seem to think so.

But then, she’s no saint either. She’s angry and impulsive and proud and very, very passionate…and for the millionth time I wish I had memories of being in bed with her because just the thought of it makes me so damned hard. And suddenly I’m not relieved that we didn’t sleep together that night—even though it lets me off the hook. That night bound us together. It was very intimate, even if it turned out to have been based on lies and misunderstandings. That night was our secret—a painful secret, maybe, but ours.

If nothing happened, then what are we fighting about? Why can’t we have a do-over? Aaarrrgh!

* * *

Over the next few days I get the unpleasant feeling that the rumors are buzzing again. People stop talking as I approach. They mention Annika’s name just to see how I react. I’m actually relieved that midterms have started and there are good reasons not to socialize.

I stagger into the coffeehouse late on Saturday night, annoyed because I’m way behind on a Poli Sci paper and my house is a throbbing headache waiting to happen—overflowing with booze, boom boxes, and bimbos. I order an extra-tall, extra-strong coffee and try to remember what I’m writing about when I see Annika and Holly in close conversation at a corner table.

“What’s up?” I grumble, planting myself in their empty chair.

Both girls stare at me so I stare back at Annika. Tonight she’s wearing tall riding boots and a short pleated skirt with a tight cropped sweater. And lip gloss that makes her mouth look moist and inviting. Fuck me.

“You going out tonight?” I ask suspiciously.

It’s Holly who answers, nodding vigorously. “We’re campaigning! Annika has been lying low but it’s time for her to show up and throw down!”

My eyes widen at Annika. “You’re actually cooperating with this?”

She nods toward Holly and shrugs helplessly as if to say, what can I do?

“Where are you going?” I demand.

“Now wait a minute!” Holly starts, puffing up like a little bird.

“Winthrop House,” Annika says, ignoring her.

Hell no! I shake my head and start to list all the reasons this is a bad idea when Annika interrupts me.

“Where are you going?”

“Home. No, the library. It’s too loud at home. Now listen, those guys are….”

“What are you working on?” She interrupts me again and I count to five in my head.

“Poli Sci paper.”

“On what?”

I give Annika a speaking look. It clearly says stop-trying-to-distract-me!

She seems unperturbed. Holly is just watching us as if we’re playing a singles match at Wimbledon.

“Whether and when U.S. intervention in foreign governments is justifiable….” Before I can finish my sentence Annika is firing questions at me.

“Military intervention or any kind of intervention, even diplomacy? What about U.S.-funded NGOs? What about U.S.-based human rights organizations?” She’s animated and I’m drawn into this despite myself.

“Military. It’s an easier paper to write.”

“What?” she squawks, leaning in to me. “You’re going to defend U.S. military intervention in foreign governments? That’s bad enough, but you don’t even believe in it?”

I dig in and sketch my reasoning, but she’s like a bulldog.

“Annika! We should get going,” Holly tries again.

“No!” Annika and I say at the same time. Annika is ripping my argument apart and Holly barely registers. I’m totally tuned into Annika, whipping balls at her that she slams back at me.

“Matt! Take the position you believe in! You don’t care about this and it shows in these weak-ass arguments you’re making! It’s more bullshit and you agreed to kick that habit!” She’s agitated now, her cheeks rosy and her eyes flaring. And, weirdly, she cares about this.

Abruptly I stand up and pull her to her feet. “Excuse us, Holly.” I glance around, assessing my options, as Annika sputters and Holly stares. The room is crowded and outside it’s still cold so I hustle her toward the bathroom, slamming the door behind us.

“Matt! What the…mmmph!”

My mouth is on hers and I’m pressing her delicious body against the door. I’m shaking with desire for her but I’m still aware of her arms coming around my neck and her tongue exploring mine. She is so hot and so soft that I’m unraveling so I pull away, gasping. I lean my forehead against hers and our eyes meet.

“Goddamn, Anni! Arguing with you really turns me on.” My voice sounds husky and her arms tighten around me.

“Oh yeah? You must be turned on a lot then,” she laughs breathlessly, as her fingers scrape the back of my neck.

“Always,” I groan, nipping at her earlobe.

She sucks in a breath and pulls at my hair, dragging my mouth back to hers. “I know what you mean,” she whispers.

And then we’re yanked back into the tornado again, clutching and grinding and tugging and biting. I’m not sure I’ve ever been this turned on – and we’re still vertical. When she parts her legs to let me in closer I pull them up to wrap around me, trapping her against the door. We both gasp at the heated contact. By now we’re frantic and I can’t think of how—or why—to stop.

“I want you so bad—right now.” I push up her skirt with one hand, palming her sweet curves. God, she’s so much sexier even than I had fantasized.

“Matt!” she cries desperately, writhing against me. “More,” she pants.

And I know I’ve never seen her like this, so out of control and undone, so passionate. This is new and overwhelming, but also perfect and…inevitable. The feelings are so intense that I can’t think at all as I rock against her. My body feels about to explode and I want to take her with me.

“Yes,” I moan into her neck, biting and sucking. She arches her back just as I press my fingers between her legs and rub against the soft heat I can feel through her tights. Her little moans and wriggles sear me. It’s as if I’ve been waiting a year for this moment and it’s too goddamned much and I can’t stop grinding against her.

A loud banging on the door startles us both and we pull apart on a shared gasp.

Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. We just stare at each other for a long moment, chests heaving, bodies trembling and pressed together hard. I wince suddenly because there was nothing tender or sweet about what we just did. That was fucking intense. Or vice versa.

With difficulty I disengage enough to allow Annika to get her feet back on the ground and I straighten her clothing while I study her face.

“You alright?” I whisper, cupping her chin. Her eyes are wide and shell-shocked. She nods and I run my thumb over her sweet, soft, swollen lips. They part and I move my hand to kiss her gently. That may have been fast and crude but I feel full of tenderness for her. And nervous as hell.

The banging starts again, with some yelling added in.

I give her a rueful look. “Should I apologize again?”

Annika makes a little huffing sound and shakes her head. I’m relieved. And insanely turned on and frustrated…. I still can’t believe how fast we lit up. I’ve never felt that out of control before and her response….

Overwhelmed, I shoot her a crooked smile and I can see the wheels start to turn in her head. I dread what might come next.

Without another word we leave together and face down the waiting customer as coolly as we can. I lift an eyebrow at anyone who dares smirk at us and try to shield Annika, wishing she weren’t so very noticeable.

Holly gives us a more-than-curious look. “Well!” she says brightly. “Time to go, Annika! I told Noah we’d meet him there in ten.”

“You’re not going to that party.” It’s a statement, and I’m impressed by how calm I sound.

“Yes, we are,” they both say.

I give Annika a look intended to convey my frustration and impatience and anxiety, but maybe it doesn’t all come through.

“Okay, then I’ll come with,” I relent.

“No, you won’t,” they both say.

I open my mouth to argue but the expression on Annika’s face says haven’t we already argued enough tonight?

I bang a fist on the table in defeat. Shit!