“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.
5
Matt
Bad idea. Bad, bad, bad! I repeat that to myself as I stomp through the snowy quad to get back to my room, wanting to kick or punch or smash something. But who am I kidding? Kissing Annika was hardly an idea. It was more of an instinct, an impulse, a necessity…. I get to my house and slam the front door behind me, startling several of the new guys playing video games in the living room. Several heads turn to stare at me.
“What?” I yell at them, then take the st
airs two at a time up to my room, where I just find more memories of Annika. I slam my bedroom door too, just for good measure, and try to slow my racing heart rate so I can think about this. Think about what to do. After all, until the end of the term we’re partners.
And I’m still turned on and I don’t want to think about Annika while I’m jerking off and how could I not and…. Fucking hell!
The next morning is not much better. I’m less angry but still unsettled. I’m deep in my own head as I start up the coffeemaker, then drop onto a kitchen stool to wait for my caffeine. I need every drop of clarity I can get.
Geoff saunters into the kitchen, singing. It’s too damn early for that so I glare at him. Things have been tense in the house ever since the Clusterfuck.
“The bitch, the bitch, the bitch is back….” He’s just gotten louder. The other guys in the kitchen snicker and nudge each other like middle schoolers.
“Shut the fuck up.”
His eyebrows rise up high. “Yup. She must be back because you’re back to being a dick again.”
My eyes narrow. He can’t be talking about….
Geoff leans against the doorframe like he has all the time in the world. “Valerie told me that Russian bitch’s stalking you now.”
What the everloving fuck?? I have to clamp my jaw shut to keep from yelling because that’s what he wants.
“You can’t be talking about Annika.” I emphasize her name. “Because she isn’t Russian.” I fold my arms across my chest and try to look calm. There’s more snickering around the room and this feels all too familiar. This shit needs to get settled.
“Did Valerie also tell you she’s the one who got Annika put in my class? She lied about Annika bullying her. She spread those rumors last year….”
I watch Geoff’s smug face and I realize the obvious. “You did too,” I marvel. “The two of you did everything you could to make her life a living hell since then.” I consider him. “I know Val feels jealous and threatened. But you did all that just because she turned you down? Really? That’s low, even for you.”
His ugly mug turns red. “You defend her? After the shit she pulled on you? Man, she must be a freak in bed.” He turns to leave but I’m up and shoving him against the wall. I glance around the room and there are three or four guys staring, looking uneasy. Good.
“I want you to listen to me so I can make something clear to your tiny brain. Nothing happened that night. I never slept with Annika. So shut your big fat maw and stop talking about her. Not another goddamn word. To me. To them. To anyone.”
I make sure to scan the whole room so they all know I’m serious before releasing Geoff. His face is blotchy.
“You must have it bad, man. Good luck with that,” he sneers.
When he leaves the room all I can hear is my own heart pounding. No one says anything. They never say anything. Is that how it’s always been? Shit goes down and no one protests? It’s like looking in a fun house mirror and I don’t like it at all.
I have afternoon classes but I cut them, which is unlike me. I’m confused, which is also unlike me. It’s like a Backwards Day from hell. I head for the coffeehouse to think for a while but as soon as I get there I realize what I discovered last night. There’s no privacy there, especially for me since I am so damned popular. People keep trying to talk to me. Girls keep trying to sit at my table, or on my lap. What kind of crap world is it that all that gossip made me more popular and Annika into a pariah? And why haven’t I noticed until now?
So again, I end up in the library, where I spread out my stuff over a corner table to discourage any comers and stare into space for a while. I wonder about my values, who I am, what I want… it’s corny and unsettling.
I try to think of anyone I can talk to, but no one comes to mind. This isn’t about sports or sex or grades or parents…and those are pretty much all the topics of conversation among my teammates and frat brothers. Really the only person I can think of to talk to is Annika herself. I take out my phone to text her, because I can’t avoid her forever anyway, then pause. What would I say? I’m sorry my world is fucked up and you got caught in it? That I kinda sorta understand why she responded in kind? But then what can I say about that kiss…?
“Hey, Matt.”
I look up and it’s a guy I recognize from Marjorie’s class. But, shit, I can’t remember his name. I just remember he’s partnered with the redheaded girl who jumps up and down a lot.
“Noah,” he prompts, without resentment. He pushes his glasses up with one hand, shifting the load of books he’s carrying.
“Sorry,” I mumble. Because that’s the word of the day. Or week. Or year.
“It’s okay. What are you doing here?” He makes a gesture as if surveying his domain.
“Uh. Thinking?”
He nods again. “This corner’s great for thinking. See you in class.” He starts to move away.
“Hey! You work here?”
He pauses before he speaks, considering me. “Yeah. I work here. And I think here. This is the PA section of the stacks.” After a pause he seems to get that maybe not everyone has memorized the Library of Congress classification system.
“Classics,” he explains. Again there’s this nod around the surrounding stacks and tables, as if they belong to him.
“Classics,” I repeat stupidly. When I glance around sure enough the shelves are full of little green hardcover books that say Loeb Classical Library.
“I never really got why someone would want to learn a language no one speaks.” I catch myself. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to be rude.”
Noah shrugs and rests his books on the table. “Other people are baffling.”
“That’s for sure.”
“How’s it going with Annika?”
“Why?” I ask warily. Is it that obvious??
“You two draw a lot of attention.”
“You mean those old rumors? I….”
He cuts me off, waving a hand. “No. I never hear gossip. I just mean you fight in class.” He drops into a chair across from me.
I relax a little. “It’s a strange class. How’s it going with your partner?”
It’s Noah’s turn to tense up. “Holly. Yeah. She’s great. But it’s hard to keep up with her.” His tone is serious and I’m not sure what to make of it. Or him.
So I ask. “What do you mean?”
“She’s just…not like me. Or I’m not like her. Both.” He hesitates and I can almost see him thinking. “It’s easier that way, maybe. We’re not so similar that we fight all the time, like you and Annika. We’re not alike but we get along great.”
I laugh and focus on the only part of that I really care about. “Annika and I aren’t alike!”
“Okay.”
“We’re really not! I get along with everyone. She’s the one who’s cantankerous.”
“Good word,” Noah nods in approval. “Belligerent is better, maybe, because it’s got a Latin root.”
I shake my head and have to smile. “Not the same thing. Belligerent is war-like. Cantankerous is more…cranky. Annika likes a good argument, yeah, but she’s more cranky than war-like. It’s kind of cute sometimes.”
I want to retract that as soon as it leaves my mouth, and look at Noah uneasily, waiting for a ton of shit to fall on me. But it doesn’t.
“What’s she so cranky about?” he asks, sounding genuinely curious. By now he’s stretched out in his chair too.
I sigh. “Me.” Before I know it I’m telling him the whole sordid story. Noah listens without interrupting and again he surprises me. No talking shit, no mocking, no attitude. When I’m done he’s very quiet.
“You guys need a do-over. But I should get back to work.” He gathers his books.
“Huh? But what do you think I should do?” I’m annoyed at myself for sounding so pathetic.
“You’re doing it. Think. But Annika?” He shakes his head. “She needs a friend.”
I feel a sudden urge to be that friend, which is ri
diculous.
“Not you,” Noah says, and it’s annoying how tuned in he is. “She doesn’t trust you. I’ll mention it to Holly though, if you think that’s a good idea. She’s a great friend.”
I exhale a sigh of relief. Yeah. That would make me feel a lot better about the Valerie shit. “That could work. Annika definitely needs a girl friend.”
Noah nods as he moves away. “Yeah. Girls are better at this stuff. Hope things look up for you.”
“Thanks, man.” I gather my stuff too because it’s time for soccer practice and I’m not going to blow that off. In fact, running around in circles sounds like just what I need right now.
6
Annika
“Hey, girl! Noah said I should befriend you!”
Holly bounces into our classroom practically singing this at me. Beside me Matt exchanges a horrified look with another guy in the class, who quickly opens a book and hides behind it. I definitely want to know what that’s all about, but in the meantime Holly is chattering something at me. I’ve never exchanged two words with this girl, but now she’s talking a mile a minute in front of me. I’ve noticed her in class before because she’s hard to miss: small and vivacious with bright red hair.
“I’ve heard the stories about you two.” She waves a finger between me and Matt, still talking loudly, and I want to crawl away and die. Matt opens his mouth to say something then closes it again and sinks even lower into his chair. I didn’t think things could get any more awkward after that kiss, but they have.
Holly continues, hands on hips now. “And Noah thinks you two need a do-over, right Noah?” The guy hiding behind the book must be pretending not to hear her because everyone else can. “But I think you also need a makeover.”
I gape at her. My mouth is literally hanging open.
Holly laughs and waves another hand. “Not that kind of makeover! You’re too beautiful already—that’s what got you in this mess!” She squints at me. “You ever heard the phrase ‘don’t hate me because I’m beautiful?’”
The Do-Over (Extra Credit Book 2) Page 4