Love Story(55)
Author: Jennifer Echols

My heart was beating out of my chest. I did not want to do this with Hunter when I knew he was only toying with me. I did not want to do this in front of my friends. Eventually they would find out that he was toying with me, and that I had known this and had let him.

But there was no way I would break that kiss. His warm tongue was in my mouth, tangling with my tongue, sweeping over my teeth, claiming me as his. My blood raced through my veins and seemed to throb toward him like the ocean tide pointing toward the moon. It was one of those things in life a writer needed to experience: feeling smitten, rendered helpless, being taken.

“We have to go back to the dorm,” he mumbled against my lips.

I nodded just a little, gently enough that I didn’t remove my mouth from his.

This time I was the one who led him by the hand through the crowd. I was shocked that he put up with this all the way across the flashing dance floor. He must have reasoned that if he could keep me happy long enough to bed me, I would listen to reason about my career choice, he could talk me into running back to my grandmother, and a college education would be his. He let himself be led.

Summer glanced up from her dancelike tangle with Manohar. Her eyes widened. I’d told her in the afternoon that I would fill her in on my weekend with Hunter after I finished my history paper, but I hadn’t implied—or thought—that I would be leading him by the hand out of a club later. She spoke to Manohar. He jerked his head up wearing her astonished expression. So Hunter hadn’t told Manohar about us, either. Not that there was any “us” to tell.

We hurried through the cold night scented with Italian garbage, holding hands, hardly speaking.

The dorm was Sunday-night quiet as he backed me against the outer door to my room and kissed me hard. His hands reached around my waist, found their way up to my br**sts and touched them through my blouse and bra this time. I put my hands behind his head to mash him closer, but by then he’d fumbled through my purse and stuck my key in the lock. The door opened behind me.

We crossed the larger room quickly and closed ourselves in my tiny bedroom. As we embraced again, I began to understand the mistake I was making. He was in my bed, and I would never be able to sleep again without thinking of him here. He kissed me, and if I opened my eyes a sliver, I could see my makeshift bedside table, actually my filing cabinet, sporting the New York City magnet. He lay down on top of me, and past his shoulders I could see my laptop glowing. I smelled him and tasted him and now when I came here every night, I would think of him, which was exactly what I never, ever intended to happen.

17

Half asleep, I opened my eyes and puzzled through what I was seeing. Hunter Allen lay beside me. His bare muscular arm crossed me. He reached to my filing cabinet and touched the New York City magnet.

IN THE BLUE GLOW FROM THE streetlights outside, he slipped out of bed. I watched him pull on his jeans and move toward the door. He didn’t fasten his belt. Maybe he didn’t fasten the jeans, either, because they sat very low on his hips, so low that I would have turned around to watch him go if I’d passed him in the hall like that.

With his hand on the doorknob, he glanced back at me and saw me staring.

He came back and knelt on the side of the bed, leaned forward, and kissed the tip of my nose. “Go back to sleep,” he whispered.

Then he was gone, carefully opening the door without a squeak and shutting it most of the way behind him.

The outer door to the hallway closed softly. I felt this more than heard it, a little bump through the building.

Footfalls sounded in the stairwell, higher and higher in the walls.

Then silence.

I took a long breath, enjoying the last of his warmth lingering in the sheets around me. As my chest moved, the warm sheets slid against my skin as if he were still here. But it was over and he was gone.

Eventually the breath had to come out again as a sigh, and I was sobbing, coughing. I rolled over and coughed into my pillow so I wouldn’t wake Summer and Jřrdis. The pillowcase smelled like him.

I was lucky I’d found out in Kentucky that I’d been fooled all this time. I’d slept with him to get him out of my system, and that plan had backfired. He had jumped up and beat a trail out the door and up to his own floor as soon as he came to his senses and realized where he was. If I had expected anything different, I was still the fool I’d been trying so hard not to be.

Footfalls sounded in the stairwell again. Descending.

It wasn’t Hunter. It couldn’t be him coming back to me. Or if it was, he simply realized he’d left his coat in my room, and his shirt

and his underwear.

The hall door bumped shut.

I held my breath.

My door opened. He would gather his things and make a hasty exit.

He closed the door softly behind him. He shed his jeans in the soft light and slid into bed beside me. Because I’d rolled over to sob into the pillow, there was less room for him now. He pressed against me until I scooted over with my back to him.

Soft clicks sounded behind my head, and then the tiniest beep. He must have retrieved his Rolex from his room. He was setting his alarm.

“You never take that thing off,” I whispered, hoping my voice didn’t sound shaky from crying. “Why didn’t you wear it tonight?”

“I didn’t want to know what time it was,” he whispered back. “I still don’t, but I’m paranoid about missing that anatomy test. I’d rather stay here with you forever.”

He said it so casually. His watch beeped a few more times. But heat spread across my chest—adrenaline from excitement, and horror. Was he saying what I thought he was saying?

To double-check, I whispered, “I thought this room made you claustrophobic.”

“Not with you in it.” He set his Rolex on my filing cabinet, a hollow metallic sound. Then he spooned hot against me, draping his arm over my waist.

He kissed my hair.

My bed was a soft nest surrounded by windows onto the cold city, but I felt my arms prick with chill bumps when he kissed me. He was not acting like he had seduced me for money. He acted as if he was happy to be with me and loath to leave. If I was right this time, he was not going to like the story I’d written in anger on Thursday night, which we would be discussing in Gabe’s class tomorrow.

HE WOKE ME BY KISSING MY mouth in the gray morning light.

“My anatomy test is at eight,” he whispered between kisses. “My books are upstairs.” He kissed me more deeply, sighed as if I’d tempted him and he’d finally given in. He collapsed on top of my bare body. “I don’t want to go, but I’ve got to.”

He raised himself off me and looked for his clothes on the floor.

I gazed warily at him, but I supposed it was still early enough that he mistook my misgivings for sleepiness.