The Lesson Plan: Extra Credit, Book 3

by Charlotte Penn Clark

  “Yeah. I mean I’d rather be playing with yours….”

  I hear her breathing shift again. “Oh yeah? How?”

  And we’re off.

  It’s intense and private and so very personal. Every day I work at the library, train for the marathon, compare translations of Ovid and still feel like I’m connected to Holly all the time. It’s not what I expected from this summer at all. (There’s no way I could have expected this!) I thought I’d be lonely and miserable, stuck on campus by myself, depressed and unproductive. But even though I long for Holly I’m strangely satisfied (is it just all the orgasms? Is it as simple as that?) and even productive too. By August I’m already done with the research I was funded for. And I start to think about the fall.

  “What’s going to happen to this when school starts again?” I ask her tentatively one evening. I stifle a yawn because Holly’s Pacific time zone forces me to stay up late. Not that I’m complaining. “To us?”

  I avoid the u-word as much as possible. And we don’t have a good word for what we’re doing. Sometimes we call it the Lesson Plan, or Our Mutual Experiment, but mostly we just awkwardly say this, as if waving our hands around vaguely. As if we could see each other doing that.

  Holly doesn’t answer immediately and in the silence my anxiety blooms. She’ll find another boyfriend. She’ll decide she’s found her mojo and not need me any more. I feel like Scheherazade, spinning out her tales night after night to avoid the inevitable ending.

  “I don’t know,” she says finally, slowly. “We were close before, but now….” The words trail off.

  “The dial goes up to eleven,” I finish for her. I hear her giggle at my Spinal Tap reference and it eases our tension.

  “I’m getting to be like Pavlov’s dogs—the phone rings and I get wet.”

  “Eww, Holly! Can we keep dogs out of this, please?”

  “But there’s so much innuendo I could go for! Because you’ve left me wide open and—”

  I cut her off. “There’s such a thing as too much talking. Even I admit that,” I say repressively. But I’m smiling. Because Holly is an exception to all rules.

  “Ha! To quote Diane Keaton in Sleeper quoting Stanley Kowalski in Streetcar Named Desire, I say ha!”

  “You’re good!” I say, impressed.

  “I can quote pop culture till the cows come home,” she says smugly. “Or the eagle lands or the ball drops or the mountain comes to Mohammed or the fat lady sings or….” We’re both laughing hard now and we’ve successfully evaded the question.

  “Alia iacta est, as Caesar said, crossing the Rubicon!” I throw in for good measure.

  “That so doesn’t count, Noah!” The scorn in her voice makes me crack up again.

  “How ‘bout carpe diem? You know, Mrs. Doubtfire?”

  “That’s Dead Poets Society, you dope!” Now her voice is filled with affection and I feel that crazy bubble inflating in my chest again, filling me with feelings for her. Only her.

  14

  Holly

  I’m all kinds of happy. The sun is shining and a light breeze ruffles my hair. I’m healthy and mildly tired from swimming and herding kids all morning, then running errands for my internship all afternoon. I’m heading home to another excellent vegetarian meal my underemployed dad is making right now. I have money in the bank, friends here and there, good books on my To Read list. And the prospect, no the guarantee, of delirious pleasure awaiting me later tonight with the best guy ever, even if he’s two time zones away. Is this what balance feels like? To feel content everywhere you turn?

  “How long is it going to take you to get over Ravi?” my mother asks over dinner. It’s just the three of us now since Jimi moved into his own place in Menlo Park. And we’re a pretty direct family.

  I freeze with my fork in the air. “Ravi?” I haven’t thought about him in weeks. “I’m over Ravi!”

  I give her a big smile and tuck back into my food. Tonight my father made polenta with grilled vegetables and outdid himself.

  “But—?” My mom looks bewildered. People say I look just like her. We certainly have the same coloring, same build. “Why aren’t you dating then?”

  Oh, that. I put down my fork and frown. “Well, I’m kinda involved with someone back at school.” Wow, saying that out loud makes it feel really real. I feel a wriggle of anxiety but push it away. Because that’s how I roll.

  “You are? Since when?” My mom still sounds puzzled.

  “Er.” What to say? “A while,” I answer vaguely.

  “Who is he?” My mom continues as my dad chews and listens. “Or she,” she adds, because this is the Bay Area after all.

  I fidget in my chair. My mom isn’t asking any difficult questions so why am I starting to freak out? “A guy,” I confirm, hoping to leave it at that.

  “Not that guy Noah you were talking so much about in March? I thought you two were just friends.” My dad looks at me sharply. He’s quick, my dad.

  “Yeah, well.” I leave that hanging and stare at my plate again.

  “Is he in Computer Science too?”

  I laugh at how off that is. “Nope. He’s a Classics major. He’s all about Latin. The day I met him he quizzed me on who Dido was.” I realize I sound besotted and shut up. Am I besotted with Noah?

  My parents just blink at me.

  “You know, Dido. The queen in The Aeneid?” I prompt. All I get is blank.

  “Sounds very old media,” my dad grunts, returning to his food.

  “Well, yeah, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

  My parents exchange a glance and then turn to me in confusion.

  “How’d you meet someone so…analogue?” my dad asks, curious.

  And I’ve never noticed before how small his world is, as if he’s on a private wifi network that just doesn’t carry a signal very far. I snicker inside at my very apt analogy.

  “We were in a different class together. Remember the trouble I got into for Freezone? I had to attend a special class in order to clear my record.”

  “That was a great little site you put together!” My dad says, leaning forward. “That’s the problem with colleges! They get everything exactly bass ackwards! They should have rewarded you with a pilot grant and a small team of coders.”

  “Dad! It was illegal!”

  “The law isn’t keeping up with the new digital world!” That’s another mantra in my house and one that made it easy for me to forge ahead with my computer piracy. I sigh.

  “I’m not sure I want a career in programming.” Whoa. That came out of nowhere. My father puts down his fork. My mom crinkles her forehead.

  “What else would you do?” My dad asks after the moment stretches awkwardly. His voice is mild but he sounds genuinely puzzled. He might as well have said what else is there to do? I want to smack a hand against my forehead but there’s no point.

  “I don’t know,” I admit.

  “You’ll figure it out,” my mom says reassuringly. She and my dad exchange a look that says it’s just a phase.

  Ugh.

  “Don’t you like the incubator job?” my dad asks, still sounding confused.

  I nod. I do like it. “Yeah. I got to sit in on one brainstorming meeting and that was cool. A whole lot of smart people at a conference table talking over one another, with white boards and sticky notes and stuff. Definitely cool!”

  It’s not like sitting alone at a computer all day moving pixels around.

  “Okay then,” my dad says, satisfied. The world is back in its orbit. For a few minutes we all eat in companionable quiet.

  “What was that boy in the class for?” my mom asks. She’s always less distractable than my dad.

  Another puzzle. I compromise with a half-truth. “A political protest. A sit in.”

  Both my parents nod. That they can get behind. But not dead languages or earnest guys who devote themselves to scholarship and want to go to grad school to become professors. A niggle of dread rises in me because
Noah’s world and mine are so different, because I don’t want to start “dating” again, and because I’m not sure what will happen with Noah when we’re back at school.

  A few weeks later I’m climbing the walls of my new dorm room. I can hear Lani and Annika unpacking in our common room, eagerly catching up, waiting for their boyfriends to show up. I don’t know what happened between Matt and Annika over the summer but something clearly clicked into place. Meanwhile, I also don’t know what happened over the summer between me and Noah, but I’m hiding in my room, checking my phone, gnawing at my lower lip. In short, freaking out.

  Where is he? I ask myself for the millionth time. Obviously he’s here, in New York, on campus, because he never left. And now I’ve been back for hours and I haven’t heard from him. WTF? Does it mean we’re done? My heart stalls. No, Noah would never just disappear. Does it mean something happened to him? I want to rush somewhere, but where? Does it mean he’s on his way over? OMG, what do we do? Does he kiss me? Do I kiss him? In front of other people? I want to squeak like a middle-schooler. Yep, I’m freaking out.

  I hear the door and jump a mile, then relax when I hear Annika squealing and then silence, then her door slamming. Then more squealing. I roll my eyes. Matt’s here. I poke my head out my door cautiously, just to be sure Noah wasn’t with him. But there’s just Lani, sitting on a sofa, sorting through take-out menus.

  “Still no word?” she asks softly. I shake my head and emerge reluctantly from my room. I run a ragged hand through my hair. Should I dress up? Should I put on make up? I’m not sure I know how. Should I text him again? Jesus!

  “He’ll show up,” Lani says calmly. Calm is her thing, not mine.

  “You don’t think he’s lying somewhere in a ditch, do you?”

  “No, I don’t,” she says firmly and I’m grateful. “What’s up with you two? Something happen over the summer?” She gives me a quick, shrewd glance and then politely looks away.

  “Yeah,” I admit. A whole lot of long-distance orgasms. I run my hand through my hair again, wishing it were straight and glossy like hers. It feels like a tangled mess, and I’m afraid my outside looks like my insides. Lani, bless her heart, doesn’t say anything.

  “Why aren’t you falling all over Kyle right now? You’ve been apart for months too.”

  She nods happily. “Yep! It was awful! But we got back to campus three days ago and the edge is off my desperation. Just the edge, mind you! So I can tolerate brief separations now. And he’ll be here any minute.” She looks longingly at the door.

  “How did I end up living with you and Annika just as you two got so disgustingly happy?” This is going to suck!

  Lani laughs, and it’s sweet. “You’ll be happy soon! As soon as you’re back with Noah.”

  I’m not so sure, though I’m wild to see him. Muffled sounds come from Annika’s room and Lani and I exchange an amused look. Then she stands up and moves to the stereo, cranking up some random music so we can’t hear the shagging going on.

  “Here, let me.” I scroll through the music on my phone, thinking of Noah’s favorites. Noah, Noah, Noah.

  Lani and I argue over what to play when there’s another pounding on the door and Lani runs to answer it. I’m not above taking advantage so I put on my favorite Ramones album, the first one, and crank it loud enough to cover all the sickening noises coming from both directions.

  “Hey Holly!” Kyle saunters into the room a few minutes later, his hand glued to Lani’s. “How you been?” Lani excuses herself to put up water for tea and his eyes track her as she leaves the room.

  “Good!” I return to the sofa and check my phone again.

  “Where’s Annika? She back yet?”

  “Yep.” I tilt my head toward her room. “With Matt.”

  He raises his eyebrows and grins. “About fucking time!” He looks at me speculatively and seems about to say something so I stall.

  “How was your summer?” I glance at him and notice that he looks happy. More relaxed.

  “Sucked. Waaay too long. But I got to volunteer at an army hospital and that was really cool.” As if Lani’s been out of his sight for too long already he drifts out of the room and into the kitchen, where I hear their voices.

  Sighing, I scroll through my last texts from Noah. He was going running. He would meet me later. I should text him when I got in. He couldn’t wait to see me. Then nothing. Maybe he’s freaking out somewhere too. Maybe he thinks we can’t be friends anymore after all that phone sex. I’m vaguely aware that time passes while I sit there, staring at my phone. Kyle comes back and asks if I want pizza. Sure, why not? There are more coming and goings, doors open and close, phones ring, but not mine. We eat pizza on the floor of the living room, but I can’t manage more than a bite or two. Eventually Matt and Annika reappear and take a lot of ribbing. And eventually they all start asking me about Noah again.

  “I don’t know!” I wail for the umpteenth time. They stare. Am I that pathetic? Before they can tease me about him any more I run to my room, slamming my door for good measure. This is not how I imagined my first day back at school! I throw myself down on my bed and start sobbing in earnest.

  15

  Noah

  I’m vaguely aware of a voice like Holly’s, though I might be dreaming of her again. I crack open one eye to check and groan. I didn’t know there were muscles in my eyelids.

  “What’s the matter?” Holly appears in my tiny frame of vision. Or parts of her—a hip settling on the bed so it creaks a little, a hand reaching out to touch my face, then her face, peering closer. She looks blurry but I have no idea where my glasses are. Still, this is so much more than I’ve had of her in months that I’ll take it, happily.

  “Holly,” I whisper. I’m so glad to see her and so so tired.

  She’s frowning now and her soft hand pushes the hair off my forehead. I try to pull myself together but moving hurts too much.

  “Ran twenty miles,” I manage. I close my eye again. Too hard to keep it open. There’s a pause before she says anything and I start drifting on a sea of pain.

  “You dumb ass!”

  I’m pretty good at reading her voice now and I hear a lot in those three words: concern, amusement, frustration, and…relief. Something wriggles into my consciousness.

  “Felt fine. Took a shower. Ate. Then I crashed.” Her hand strokes through my hair and it’s the only place I don’t hurt. Wait, what’s she doing here? “Did I leave the door open?”

  “Yep. Where’s your phone?”

  I shrug, then wince at the stab of pain. “Can’t reach it.” I’m sprawled face down on my bed and even lifting my head to look feels impossible. In a rustle of motion I hear Holly move away and return with my phone, swiping across the screen.

  “I’m deleting my eleven messages, just so you know.”

  I groan. “So sorry, Holl!” I force my eyes open and see she’s watching me now with a funny expression on her face. Her hand smooths lightly over my cheek, my jaw, my shoulder. I relax into her touch.

  “It’s okay now. Go to sleep.”

  My eyes close again against my will and I mutter something, but I’m not sure what. I’ll just rest for a few minutes….

  When I wake up my face is pressed into Holly’s hair and my body is wrapped around hers on my narrow bed. I inhale her scent and savor this moment, which is pretty damned perfect. Better than sex even. Or better than I think sex will be. But that will be amazing too. When we…. If we.… Aargh!

  One arm is wrapped around her waist so I move my fingers experimentally. There’s her hip. There’s some bare skin where her shirt pulls away from her leggings. Mmm. There. I skim the warm smooth skin of her stomach and she stirs, pressing her curvy butt into my groin. I stifle my response because I don’t want her to wake up quite yet. I have no idea what time it is or where we’re going with this thing so I better grab whatever I can while I can. Meaning, her bare skin. Reality will intrude soon enough.

  So I carefully prop my
head up on one bent arm and look over her shoulder as I explore as much of her delicious flesh as I can. Is this kind of pervy? Probably. Should I be asking for her consent? Definitely, which gives me pause until she shifts against me again, and shivers, and I realize with a start that she’s already awake. She edges closer again, her eyes still closed, and sighs. I brush my mouth against her ear and she smiles. Warmth floods me. I’m still vaguely aware of being sore and tired but that’s background noise to the main event: Holly is in my arms, in my bed.

  She takes a deep breath and I watch in fascination as her breasts rise and fall beneath her tee shirt. I’m desperately aware of everything I know now about her body—how her nipples respond to the slightest touch, how she likes to start very slow, how she sounds when she comes. Her legs tangle with mine and I wonder if she’s already wet. She’s got to be aware of the erection pressed up against her butt. Her every motion tortures me. But I’m not sure what to do, where we’re at. I want to translate knowing and saying into doing and I’m not sure if that’s okay. In an agony of suspense, I whisper her name.

  She turns her head to meet my eyes, hers warm and soft and full of feeling, then rolls toward me so she’s lying on her back looking up at me, her bright hair tangled in sexy disarray. Then, without comment, she pulls off her tee shirt, then kicks off her leggings. She pauses for a moment to study my expression while I take in a nearly naked Holly, clad in brief panties and a lacy bra. I swallow hard and she must like what she sees in my reaction because she pops the clasp of her bra and pauses again for my eyes to catch up to her. Her expression reveals all I ever hoped to see: her face open and filled with desire. It gives me all the permission I ever wanted.

  In a daze I brush my thumb over her nipple and watch, fascinated, as she quivers. I trace very light patterns over her sensitive skin, my eyes moving between her face and her breasts. They’re as awesomely beautiful as I ever imagined—all pale and rosy and full and flushed. Her nipples tighten and I want them bad. I lean in and she gasps, arching toward my mouth. There’s a freckle on one sweet slope that I have to kiss before I finally get my mouth on her to explore her slowly, slowly. We’re both panting now. She’s got her hands in my hair and her body is softening under mine, liquefying. It’s like we’re already melting together. I want this to last forever.