I beg off. I’m dazed, fuzzy-headed, and hyper-aware of my wet panties and sensitized skin. I’m in no shape for a party and I need to think through what happened. So as soon as Matt leaves I give Holly an excuse and she responds with a stern look.

“Stay away from Matt.” She marches outside and we walk together for part of the way, leaning into the frosty wind whipping through our hair.

I’m silent, still thinking. At this moment that seems physically impossible.

“I hate to tell you, Annika, but people are talking again.” She shakes her head. “You two appearing together in public is an insta-reminder to everyone of your history—especially when you disappear for fifteen minutes like you did tonight!”

“What about in private?” I ask immediately, then realize my mistake when Holly rolls her eyes at me.

Before we part ways she lectures me about the importance of finding me a nice new boyfriend who would give me a fresh start. A gentleman, she said, and I have a dizzying flashback to the feel of Matt’s mouth devouring mine. I trudge up three flights of stairs, turning things over in my head. Didn’t I want a fresh start? Isn’t that why I came so far from home in the first place? To see who else I could be besides daughter, sister, model?

Besides, wasn’t Matt nice? The idea surprises me. For the whole long year since That Night I thought he seemed nice at first but was really an asshole. Now I wonder if he seemed like an asshole but really was nice…. The distinction seems important. He was nice (among other things) to me tonight. Yes, we fought hard and we made out hard (note to self: figure out the connection there) but afterwards he went out of his way to make sure I was okay when he seemed just as thrown by the whole making-out thing as I was. I unlock my door and tiptoe to my bedroom, a single off a living room and bathroom I share with a pre-med roommate who does nothing but study.

I get ready for bed and snuggle under the covers before I allow myself to look at my phone again. There are three messages from Matt. No, four now.

U OK?

??

Annika!?

Reassure me dammit!

I chuckle at the last one, though it tweaks my conscience too. I consider Holly’s advice for about two seconds before caving.

Im OK. I bite my lip before adding, Is that normal?

I hold my breath for his answer.

No.

The bubbles keep dancing as he continues to write.

Maybe for us.

I don’t know what to make of that so I don’t respond. Then two minutes later there’s more.

#Sorry/not sorry.

I can’t help but smile.

Gnight Matt.

Gnight Anni.

And it feels intimate.

* * *

I take Holly’s advice though and avoid Matt until our next class. It’s not hard to do. Our paths rarely cross since he tends to stay inside his frat/sports circle and I’m outside all the circles. It’s still cold out and everyone’s talking about going somewhere warm for spring break. I’m staying on campus because home is so far and I expect it to be cold and quiet here. And lonely.

When I do see Matt in class I drink him in. Because his long lean body does something to me and his dark good looks make me shiver. He slips into the chair next to mine without a word, his muscles bunching under his shirt. I can feel his tension and I know what it’s about because I feel it too. Lust.

I close my eyes and inhale deeply because I’m barraged with memories of his hard body pressed against me, his mouth on mine, his hand between my legs…. My eyes fly open and he’s staring at me, his eyes hooded and hot. I want to pull him on top of me, but instead I lash out.

“You look awful!” (He looks amazing, but he does look tired.) “And you’re late! Again! How are we going to make progress on your problem if you don’t take this seriously?” (I actually don’t need my checklist to notice that he’s changed. He’s still a smoothie, but he bullshits less and seems more…real. More himself. IMHO.)

He gives me a lopsided smile. “It won’t work, Annika. Remember what happens when we fight—“

I feel my face heat and I duck to avoid his eyes. What am I supposed to do, then, to hold him off? I don’t know so I try the opposite approach.

“I owe you a compliment,” I say softly.

“Excuse me?” His confusion is real.

“You know, for your program for me. Step 2 is to pay someone a compliment.”

He shifts uncomfortably. “Someone. Not me.”

“You don’t want one?” I ask, amused. This awkward, humble Matt is oddly appealing. As much as I admire his poise and envy his popularity, it’s these awkward moments that make the rest of it real, I think.

“Don’t!” he mutters.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t flirt with me!” His voice is a low, urgent hiss and I’m taken aback by his vulnerability and my power over him.

I nod, thinking. “You’re right. I won’t. I’ll just say that I’ve decided you’re a nice guy who sometimes acts like a jerk instead of the other way around.”

“Gee, thanks!” he grumbles, casting me a dark look.

I burst out laughing and hold my hands up in surrender. “Okay! My complimenting definitely needs work! I’ll practice on someone else.”

He smiles a little then shifts restlessly before addressing me seriously. “Holly’s right. We should avoid seeing each other.”

I know he’s right. They’re both right. But my hackles go up anyway. “Okay,” I say, shrugging like it doesn’t matter to me.

“Because being seen together will set you back,” he adds with emphasis.

“I said okay!”

“And being together is risky,” he adds, ignoring me. We look at each other. I feel sad and he looks kind of sad. Or disappointed.

I sigh. “I know.”

We both know we’re a bad idea: too much history, too much anger, too much gossip, too much…passion. “We’re not good together.”

“No, we’re very good together. We’re not good for each other,” Matt corrects me, his eyes roaming over my face. His hands fidget as if he wants to reach for me.

I nod and change the subject to get us on firmer ground. Luckily Marjorie decides that today we’ll all change partners and work with other people. In the musical chairs that follows I join Holly and Lani, who I don’t really know but seems nice enough. By the end of the class the three of us are laughing easily and I feel better.

When I return to my chair to collect my stuff I’m relaxed enough to tell Matt, “Noah was right. Holly is a good friend!”

Shrugging on his coat, he smiles and I’m a little dazzled. “Let’s count that as your compliment for Step #2. And we can check off Step #3 too. You’ve made a friend!”

* * *

Holly is a good campaign manager too, it turns out. Her strategy seems to be working because not only do I have an actual friend, but the people in my classes seem nicer. Or maybe I’m nicer to them. I can’t tell. But now people talk to me instead of just staring or avoiding me. Not that that was all Matt’s fault, I see now. More and more I understand that we both made mistakes That Night and I never figured out how to bounce back from mine.

After my last flame-out I go into my new social life more cautiously—no vodka shots, no frat parties, no impulsive make-out sessions with a guy-who-shall-not-be-named. I chat. I smile. I laugh. And I feel a little let down. It’s nice, yes, but it’s tame too. Spring break is long and dull but luckily Matt and I only vetoed seeing each other, not texting. So I still get a small steady dose of him even though he went home to Connecticut.

Remember the poli sci paper I was writing that night? This pops up on my phone one morning.

What night?

THAT night

Oh. Yeah. Duh!

Rewrote it the next day. Got an A!

Yay you! Told you you’d do better without bullshitting!

Nope. You never said that.

??

You said I’d be a better person, not that I’d get better grades. Might have been more persuasive if you had—

You’re so full of it!

So you’ve said ;0

* * *

A few days later I check in again. Halfway point: how’s your break?

OK. Should love it but I’m bored. Yours?

Me 2! Just sleeping and eating like a hibernating bear…

LOL. That an Estonian thing?

Bears, yes. Hey, got the DC internship!

Yay you! (note I’m quoting you here! Would never say something so girly!)

Yeah yeah. Blame me for everything!

I do!

Before I know it the break is over and I’m actually looking forward to school. When I mention that to my parents in one of our late night phone calls there’s a knowing silence. Like they’re saying See! She’s adjusting! It’s annoying, but it might just be true.