Extra Credit: Three Ivy Years Novellas (The Ivy Years Book 6)

FOR A FEW MINUTES we just lay there, breathing hard, while dance music continued to vibrate the bedroom wall. Andy’s face was stuffed half into the pillow, half into my hair. I could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest against mine.

But eventually the music stopped, and the silence seemed to bring the two of us back into focus. It was quiet enough to talk now, only I didn’t know what I wanted to say.

Even for someone like me, who really liked sex, the part afterward was a little awkward. There was always that uncomfortable moment when your brain came back online and reminded you that you should probably untangle yourself from this sweaty boy and go on with your life.

The realization that special moments didn’t last was always a disappointment. And the more special they were, the bigger the letdown.

This one was kind of a doozy.

Andy had gotten his breathing back under control, and was now playing with a lock of my hair. “Can I ask you something?” His voice was muffled.

“Yeah.” Or yes. (Sorry, Mother. Though, come to think of it, after what I’d just done — stripping this boy naked and practically leaping on him — the use of “yes” versus “yeah” was a moot point. Right, Mom?)

“What I need to know is…” he hesitated. “Do you feel a sudden compulsion to begin dating women?”

What?

“Oh!” I began to laugh.

“Be honest,” he said, turning his head to show me his smiling eyes. “Do you have an urgent desire to run out for a copy of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition?”

Laughing, I realized that this boy was just going to keep on surprising me. “Well, now that you mention it… I do find myself wondering whether I should date someone who shares my taste in lipstick.”

First, he gave my ass a pinch. Then he pulled me close, and I snuggled into his neck. For a few minutes, his hands gently skimmed my back. But eventually, he smoothed my hair down and sighed. “I really don’t want to move. But I have to get up and get rid of this, um…”

Condom. Right. I released him, though I didn’t want to.

Rolling off the bed, he grabbed a tissue from the box on his desk, then stood in front of the wastepaper basket, his back to me. I used the moment to marvel at how long his legs were. And the fact that he had a really nice butt for someone so slim. Go figure.

“I should really go,” I said.

When Andy turned around, he was frowning. “Oh, no you don’t,” he said, giving his head a little shake. “Not so fast.” He came back toward me, and I tried not to stare at his nakedness. There was something really sexy about that long, lean body. He was built as if only the best, most essential parts had been added to his frame. As if any extra would just be a distraction.

On his way over, he snagged his boxers off the floor and stepped into them.

I’d pulled the sheet up to cover myself, and now he gave me a little nudge to move over for him. Dorm beds were pretty narrow. But I scooted toward the wall, and he slid into the bed, rolling onto his side to face me. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi.” I clutched the sheet against my chest. I was feeling very naked all of a sudden.

“I thought if I trapped you in here, you wouldn’t go.”

“You’ll want me to, eventually,” I pointed out. “If I’m still here a week from now, that would just be weird.”

“Well,” he cleared his throat. “If you say so. But we could probably compromise on tomorrow morning, no?” Beneath the sheets, his toes wandered over to be with mine. He trapped the arch of my foot between both of his and gave it a squeeze.

I didn’t know what to say. My football player boyfriends had always complained that they couldn’t possibly spend eight hours crammed into a tiny bed with me. “You won’t sleep well. And there are exams to study for.”

He gave his head a shake. “That’s not the point. I want the whole package. We’re supposed to have that tricky night’s sleep, where I’m trying not to give you a black eye when I roll over. And I believe I’m entitled to some awkward conversation in the morning.”

“Seriously?” I fought off a grin.

“Seriously.” He leaned over to kiss my eyebrow, and then had to turn away so he could yawn.

It was catching, so I yawned too. “The problem is that I only have a dress to wear. Walking home tomorrow morning…” I let the sentence trail off. Because he’d understand what I meant. Anyone who saw me would know I was doing the Walk of Shame.

It was called that for a reason.

Andy frowned. “I have sweats you could borrow.”

I pointed across the room at my spike heels, lying on the floor where I’d shed them so hastily a little while ago.

He chewed on his lip for a second. “Okay. I’ll walk you home right now, if that’s what makes you the most comfortable,” he said. “Otherwise, I can set my alarm for seven. But we’ll probably wake up then anyway, after elbowing each other all night.” He gave me a shy smile. “And we could walk you home before anyone else even thinks about waking up. Then I could wait at the coffee shop while you shower and change. And then we’ll get the earliest possible start on memorizing two hundred European paintings.”

“Hmm,” I said, as my heart gave a little flutter. That all sounded too good to be true.

“There won’t be a soul outside at seven in the morning. Especially during exams,” he pointed out.

“You really want me to stay?” He was probably just being nice.

He gathered me up in his long arms. “I really, really do.”