I giggle breathlessly but I want that too. So much.
“But first I’m going to feed you.”
Huh? I blink in confusion. “Really?”
“Yeah.” He pushes away from the wall we’ve been propped up against. “Come on.” He grabs my hand with one hand and my bag with the other.
“Now?” I look around vaguely because I’m Kyle-struck. “We can’t just go home and…?”
He shakes his head, looking amused. “Not yet.”
“Why not?” I whine. I drag my feet as he tugs at me.
“Because waiting makes it better.” He glances back at me and winks. I scurry to catch up to him.
“You’re kidding, right? We’ve been waiting for three months!” I protest.
He grins. “I know. It’s going to be awesome!”
I laugh out loud because I can’t help it. He makes me so happy, even when he’s being a pain in the ass. “I love you so much!” The words just burst out of me.
With a huge smile on his face he turns and swings me around in his arms, as people around us scatter out of our way. “I love you so fucking much too.”
He’s too loud and too big and attracting too much attention, but I’m filled with a deep sense of contentment. He’s right. We’ll go to our favorite diner, we’ll talk and touch and gaze at each other and when we get to bed it will be as awesome as ever. And then we’ll have tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow after that…. The future stretches out in front of us and we link hands again to walk toward it.
THE END
STAY TUNED FOR BOOK 2 OF THE EXTRA CREDIT SERIES:
The Do-Over
It’s war….
Matt and Annika have History. When they first met *(&*@# hit the fan. Now a year later, they’ve both landed in a pilot class for students in trouble and sparks are still flying….
Because Matt thinks Annika is a snarky, mean-spirited, bitter, vengeful—albeit beautiful—bitch. And Annika thinks Matt is a phony, lying, untrustworthy, too smooth—albeit super-hot—jerk. When they are forced to work together can they untangle the mess of their past and pull off a do-over?
Extra Credit is a New Adult series that takes place on a college campus and puts three unlikely couples together to see what happens. Each book is in dual point-of-view with a happy ending that can be read as a standalone, though they’re better together…! The series includes sexy times that are only meant for readers over 18.
SEE WWW.CHARLOTTEPENNCLARK.COM FOR DETAILS.
Excerpt from The Do-Over
Chapter 1: MATT
Of course Annika Saar would be in this course. Because she’s one of my only complete and utter failures. I try to sink lower into my chair while I wait for the class to start, wishing (for the umpteenth time) that things hadn’t gone so disastrously wrong with her. And still she brings up a completely confusing mash-up of emotions in me: fury, guilt, resentment, fascination, curiosity, and always, always lust. Because she’s still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. I keep my eyes down so I don’t gawk.
One of the worst things about the night I refer to in my head as The Clusterfuck is that I had her in my bed and I don’t even remember it. I’ve had a year to puzzle that over and for the life of me I still don’t get it. A whole night together and I’ve got nothing? I can’t help it—my eyes travel up, up, up her legs as she stands in the front of the room talking to the teacher. Bless you, super-skinny jeans! Then she whirls around just as my gaze reaches her face and I think Jesus, she’s even more beautiful than I remember, quickly followed by shit, how she hates me! Those pale blue eyes that first captivated me are now shooting ice chips. She looks like an arctic she-wolf.
I have to hand it to her though. That girl holds her head high. She straightens and squares her shoulders. And she’s super-model tall too. Then those rosy lips open.
“Asshole!” she mouths at me, stomping over to a chair as far as possible from mine.
Annnnd, that’s Annika.
As the class starts I’m on autopilot, writing whatever the teacher wants. I do autopilot better than anyone and this class is just a minor inconvenience. It’s a pilot program called Extra Credit for students in some kind of trouble. Sure, it’s a little embarrassing, being forced to take this class. And yeah, I don’t exactly want my folks to find out about my “situation.” But whatever. It’s not like it’s graded so it won’t affect my GPA.
And it’s not like I did anything really wrong. It was a frat thing and I’m president so it comes with the job. Every year we get the Org Chem final from the year before and circulate it to the brothers in that class. Every year. So what if this year we got caught? We’ll still do it again next year. I’d do it again tomorrow. Plenty of frats keep old tests as study aids and if it’s an ethical “gray area” that means it’s okay. The system is rigged and that’s how it’s played.
Write for a few minutes about why you’re here and what you hope to get out of this experience, the teacher asks us. I got this.
The first step in solving any problem is to acknowledge it. After acknowledging it comes analyzing it. How did this situation happen? What were the circumstances? Who were the players? After this analysis a solution often presents itself. This class is designed to acknowledge student problems and, presumably, identify them for analysis. Like with a medical procedure, the correct diagnosis is key to the successful treatment.
Swoosh! I slap my pen down on my desk. Sometimes I out-do even myself. We go around a circle and read our responses and I know I’m golden. Most of them are crap. Kyle, the guy sitting next to me, struggles to put together two sentences. Annika writes something about being an international student and gets some prepositions wrong. For about two seconds I wonder what it’s like to move to the U.S. for college. She told me a little bit about Estonia during the Clusterfuck.
The professor, who wants us to call her Marjorie, has us do some more writing so I churn out another shiny paragraph. I could do this all day, but it’s boring. This time when we read them though I snap to attention. Annika’s is all about me, a.k.a. the “stupid lying jerk.” I don’t even know how the rest of them react because my vision narrows down to her. That girl who tosses her long blond hair over her shoulder and tenses up for battle. That one.
Any minute now everyone’s going to remember what a fool she made of me. Any day now the gossip’s going to start up again…. Behind my red haze I can hear Marjorie mediating between us but I’m too angry to listen. Kyle looks questioningly between me and Annika and I smirk, “Been there. Done that.”
The temperature in the room drops further and I see something in Annika’s expression that I try to make sense of: anger for sure, shock, and…hurt? I shift in my chair. No one makes me behave worse than Annika. I’m pretty tuned out for the rest of the class and relieved when we’re excused til next week. I shove to my feet and try to shift gears. This was my first class yet it feels like it’s been a long day. I still have Post-War Politics, International Finance, soccer practice, the weekly steering meeting for the frat. I already feel exhausted. I’ve been there and done all that too. But I have to keep pedaling harder or I’ll fall.
I spare one last glance at Annika as I leave. Her long hair hides her face as she leans down to pack her bag. Her shoulders seem to droop. Whatever.
“Hey!”
I sure hope that’s not directed at me. I walk a little faster, hunching into the cold wind that’s blowing through the quad.
“Hey, Matt!!”
Ugh. I turn reluctantly and see it’s Kyle. He jogs over to me, adjusting the backpack on his shoulder.
“What the fuck, man?”
I raise an eyebrow and wait. My mom taught me that. If you’re patient, she says, people will tell you everything you need to know without you even having to ask. A group of girls detour around us, giggling as they flutter their fingers at me. I smile back because that’s how it works, but Kyle glares at the interruption and they scatter quickly.
“What’s up with
you and that foreign girl?”
I tense. “Whatever.”
That’s officially going to be my go-to answer to everything now. I start walking again because it’s cold and it’s a long story anyway. He moves into step with me.
“Seemed a little harsh.”
I bark out a laugh. “Really? You really don’t know? You must be the only one on campus then. It took a year to die down.”
His eyes widen. “Wait. What? She was the one who put that shit up about you on Facebook?” He starts cracking up but when I glare at him he just slaps me on the back. As we get closer to the Poli Sci building he sobers up and catches my arm just as I’m about to turn in. “You got to admit she got you good. And you did pop her cherry and drop her.”
I whirl on him. “I. Did. Not.” It doesn’t matter how many times I say it the rumors never die.
Kyle throws up his hands and backs off. “Whoa. Okay. That’s just what I heard.” He frowns. “I also heard she got into a cat fight with some sorority girls last semester. And that she used to be a model.” He shrugs. “Who starts this shit?”
Before I can open my mouth to end this highly annoying conversation my phone rings in my back pocket. I fumble it with gloved hands, cursing, and see it’s my mom. Fuck my life. With one more glare at Kyle I make a dash for my next class while struggling to answer before it goes to voicemail.
“What?” My impatience is obvious. I jam my phone between my shoulder and my ear so I can yank open the heavy door of Kent Hall. I stumble inside, grateful at least for the warmth. I hear my name from several directions and nod toward the sounds.
“Matthew, that’s no way to speak to your mother.”
I sigh. “Sorry, Ma. But aren’t you the one who values directness? I’m sure you don’t have time for chitchat.”
“True.” Then she gets down to business because that’s how we roll. “What’s this Extra Credit course I see on your schedule this semester?”
I freeze. I should have prepared a good answer. “Just what it says. It’s Extra Credit. For my Poli Sci major. It’s like…extra discussion of current events, some special lectures….” I try to be as vague as possible because one of my mother’s many superpowers is seeing through lies.
“Hmm. I’d like to see the syllabus. It could look good on your law school application.”
“Ma….” It’s pointless, but I have to try.
“I have a meeting now, Matt. I’ll call back at my usual time.” Click. I look at my phone to confirm: yep, she hung up. I shove my phone back in my pocket, determined to rescue this fucked up day.
“Hey, Matt!” Another girl waves at me and I can’t remember her name. I glance around and everyone seems to be looking at me, smiling and waving and I’m not even sure who half of them are. Is this really as good as it gets?
Chapter 2: ANNIKA
The worst is to back down. Or fall down, God forbidding. All through class—since I first saw him behind me—I’ve been tense and unsettled. I just can’t shake him. Or That awful Night. It haunts me.
I steel myself again and wait til the room is empty before approaching Marjorie. Calling a teacher by her first name--how American is that?
“Marjorie, I hate to ask, but is there any way to get out of this class? Anything else I can do instead?”
Marjorie buttons her coat as she regards me steadily. “Is it just because of Matt?”
I blush a little, embarrassingly, and search for the right words. Sometimes I reach for words and they come in several different languages. Then I have to pause and sort them out before I respond.
“Partly. We have a history. Obviously. But I didn’t do what I was accused of doing.”
Marjorie shakes her head. “I have no say in how these situations are handled. This is a pilot program and we’re still trying it out. My job is to help you figure out what you’re doing that got you here, not to address any specific incident.”
I sigh. “So that’s it? I’m stuck?” She seems nice. It’s not her fault that my life here sucks. That’s his fault.
She nods. “I’m afraid so. But think about what Matt wrote: I don’t know if he really meant it but it wouldn’t hurt for you two to acknowledge you have a problem and think back to what happened and why.”
I’m already shaking my head. “I really don’t want to talk about that.”
“Maybe that’s the problem, Annika.” She pats me on the shoulder and we leave the room together.
I spend the rest of the day in classes, go for a run before dinner, then finish my summer internship application before turning to my reading for the night. I have nothing much else to do anyway and the time zones between New York and Tallinn mean that if I read til midnight I can call home and catch my family before they all leave for their day. Tonight I really want to hear their voices.
“Papa! Any fresh snow?” I slip happily back into Estonian when my father picks up his phone.
He chuckles. “Zaychik, it’s as you see—“ He turns on FaceTime and pans his phone around the view out our kitchen window. I hear muffled conversations around him and see that the trees in the park behind our house are all white, their branches sagging under the weight of the heavy powder.
“Are you skiing this weekend?” I like to picture them in all their daily routines. It makes them seem closer.
“Me and Maire, yes. Your mom and Lena, no. Lena has a date so they’re staying home.”
“A date? With a boy?” I squawk. My sister is only sixteen. I wasn’t allowed to date until I was eighteen, and that was all of two months before I left for college last year.
“Yes, well….” He clears his throat.
“Well what? Why does she get different rules than I did? What’s the principle here?” I press him.
“Let me pass you to your mother—“
“That’s not a principle. Here they call that ‘passing the buck,’ but I don’t know why.” It’s no use because my mom is already on the phone.
“Annika! How are you?” She is moving around as she shouts into the phone to be heard over the morning chaos.
“Good! But why is Lena dating already? It’s not fair!”
“Situational ethics, dear—“
“Our situations weren’t different!“ I cut her off. My mom happens to be a professor of philosophy and I don’t want to get her started.
“Different rules for different people….” She tries again.
“That’s a slippery slope! I could demolish that argument in three seconds flat, Mom! Try again.”
She sighs. “I have to get to work now, but the short answer? She wore us down, bunny. She wore us down. I’m not sure you cared about dating half as much as she does.”
Maybe not. I don’t know Lena so well after a year away from home, but she was always a social butterfly. Which no one would ever say about me. I can hear Lena in the background asking if I’m mad.
“Gotta go, Anni-bear—Kisses!”
“Kisses,” I repeat. “And you can tell Lena I’m not mad.” And I’m not. Who needs a boyfriend anyway? Who needs friends when you’ve got family?
Over the course of the week we’re supposed to write up our thoughts about the problem that got us into Marjorie’s class. But I don’t know where to start so I write a lot about being an international student and having no clue what’s going on here sometimes. That Night was a prime example of my complete misunderstanding of a situation. Of a person. But I don’t want to think about that.
Except everything spiraled downhill after that. The whispers, the gossip, the rumors, the backlash. It made my head swim and I guess I lashed out. So maybe I made some enemies. Maybe a lot of them. And maybe I did yell at those Delta Nu girls but it was in Estonian so what do they care? At least this is all temporary. And it can’t get any worse, right?
It does.
I’m late to the next Extra Credit class and hurriedly pull out my notebook and pens as I sit down, glancing around. Everyone is looking at me. Except Matt, but I’m not lookin
g at him either so I don’t notice the tension in his shoulders, or his long legs stretched out in front of him.
“I’m so sorry! What did I miss?”
“We’ve paired up with partners to swap notebooks. You’re working with Matt.” Marjorie says neutrally.
I still. “Oh, fuck me!” Matt and I say this at the same time and everyone laughs while the two of us glare at each other.
Marjorie explains that each pair is supposed to work together to solve each other’s “problems” so they don’t happen again. I consider begging Marjorie for an out but I’ve already tried that once. I glare at Matt as I drag my metal chair noisily over to his. He winces at the sound and I’m absurdly pleased that I’ve succeeded in annoying him. His dark hair falls over his forehead but otherwise he’s perfectly composed and it drives me crazy. His polo shirt could have been tailored to him and his jeans fit him to a letter. No droopy-butt pants for him. Mr. Smooth. Mr. Popular Perfect. Everyone sided with him.
“You’re so full of shit,” I say because his very existence is intolerable.
“Gee, hello to you too, Annika!” He smirks at me and I hate it when he smirks. It makes me feel like a bug and it draws attention to his mouth.
“That’s exactly what I mean. You just want to bullshit your way through everything. Okay, then, let’s get the courtesies over with: hello, how are you, sure is cold out! Now what?” I’m almost out of breath and he looks surprised by my outburst. I’m a little surprised too.
“Huh. I was going to say that maybe we should try to keep things polite, since we have to work together,” he says slowly, watching me. He has the darkest eyes. They’re brown but a very dark, dark brown and very intent. It’s unnerving because his mouth says one thing--always joking, bull-shitting, smirking—and his eyes say a different thing, like he’s thinking about something else altogether.
I look away, embarrassed by my rudeness, and take a deep breath. I consider apologizing. We seemed to get along so well that first night! Maybe I….
The Partnership (Extra Credit Book 1) Page 15