“I’m sorry, Corabelle. I was so jealous. The thought that you were with him…”

She struggled with her hand a moment, then hit me on the arm with her other. I accepted the blow. She had every right to do it. “It’s not that.” Her eyes went totally dark. “You told Jenny about the baby!” She struggled against me, but I held on. “Why did you do that?”

“I was desperate. I had to get her to understand how important this was.”

She tried to back away, but I kept her hand imprisoned. “I didn’t want anyone here to know!” she said.

I jerked her back against me, my mouth against her hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Her breath was fast and hard, her shoulders jumping. I knew I was screwing up when I did it. Still, I was here. I couldn’t regret it. Now I had a chance. She had to remember how good we were together. I had to remind her.

My hand on hers was trapped against her breast and I became acutely aware of her body, the softness beneath the back of my hand, the shampoo perfume of her wet hair. I went full mast immediately. I knew the moment she noticed because she let out a little gasp.

Corabelle tried to pull away again, but I kept her close. I couldn’t bear to let her go, not yet. “Give me just a minute with you,” I croaked out. “I won’t do anything, but just let me have this moment.”

She relaxed and her belly pressed against me. It took all the control I possessed not to push harder against her, to trail my hand down her back, to move back into that heat we felt in the dish room at her work. Remembering her reaction to me then made my cock jump. I glanced down at her, those soft breasts pressed against my chest. Her nipples poked into the white tank and I lost it completely, grinding against her, letting her hand go to cup her chin and raise her face to mine. My mouth felt so hot against her cool lips. I needed her, all of her, and held her so tight that I don’t think either of us could breathe.

Her hand beat against me again, and I felt like I was that jerk boy I had been so angry about when I came in. I let her go and she spun away, putting distance between us.

“You can’t do this,” she choked out. “I called you here, but not for this.”

I ran my hands through my hair, trying to cool down. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“I just —” She covered her face with her hands. “I don’t know.”

The sofa cushions crushed beneath my weight as I sank down, trying to put my need on lockdown. Corabelle stood several feet away, back by the wall, but looking at her didn’t help matters. Her hair was all scattered in a crazy knot. The tank clung to all her curves, her nipples still tantalizing beneath the thin fabric. The silky shorts v’d between her legs and I just wanted to race over there and part them, feel her, watch all the expressions come over her face as I pleasured her. I’d forgotten her feet, those little toes, decorated with pink nails.

I had to stop this.

“Tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it.” Except leave, I added silently. Please don’t ask me to leave.

She sat on the floor, tucking her knees to her chin. “Just be here. Just keep it easy.”

I leaned back on the sofa. “I can do that.”

I caught her glancing at my crotch, and I willed it to behave. “Should we talk about astronomy?” I asked.

She nodded.

“I think Professor Blowhard has a pipe up his ass about having to teach nonmajors.”

Corabelle almost smiled, I could see it.

“I’m sure it’s more fun to teach students who aren’t just there to goof around on the roof,” she said. A piece of black hair had fallen from the tangle and she twirled it with her finger.

“I hope the next lab feels a little less like something you do at a kids’ camp.”

Corabelle shook her head. “Yeah, I’m thinking I may be a bit of an overachiever for this class.”

“I bet you’ve got some perfect GPA.”

She shrugged. “I’ve done all right. I need the grades to get into grad school.”

I hated to think I’d lose her as soon as I found her. “Where are you thinking of going? Here?”

“Wherever I get accepted. I have a list.”

“None of them UCSD?”

She turned her head. “You seem hopeful I’ll stay.”

“I’m hopeful you’ll want to.”

She looked at the floor. “I don’t know what I want anymore.”

The urge to crawl over to her was strong, but I forced myself to stay on the sofa. “I wonder if Crazy Charles has made good on his valedictory speech.”

Corabelle smacked her hands against the carpet. “OH! That jerk! I forgot about him!”

“I never thought you’d forget the guy who stole the top spot from you.” Corabelle had ended up salutatorian when a perfect tie on their grades meant the committee looked to their noncredit courses for a decision.

“Last I heard, he was at MIT,” Corabelle said. “So he did well.”

She seemed to be relaxing again.

“Remember when we were kids, and practiced teaching school?” I asked.

“I know where this is going.” She kicked her legs out, and the sight of her thighs made my blood jump, but I stuffed it down.

I propped my feet on a scarred-up coffee table, hoping the position would hide anything that sprang up unexpectedly. “Charlie was always the student in the most trouble in our pretend classroom.”

“Didn’t we stick him in the corner? What did we use for him?”

“Your clown doll,” I said.

“Yes! That was it. I seemed to enjoy giving him F’s on all his essays.”

“You were a heartless one.”

Her smile was genuine and made her look so much like the old Corabelle. Our history seemed to fall away and we were almost like we’d been at the beginning of that terrible year, before anything went wrong. I wanted her so desperately, to talk to her while I held her close, to bring her around. I knew her. I knew everything about her. I could make her better, erase that sadness in her eyes, that panic that came over her so often.

Cool your jets, I told myself. One step at a time. 

I wasn’t going to be able to resist him. I could already see it.

He sat on my sofa, his feet up on my coffee table, and everything about my difficult world suddenly seemed so simple. I could see he was on edge. He always had these explosive moments. But he cared, a lot, and I had always forgiven him because I knew where they came from, his father, that jerk who never thought Gavin did anything right.

But would he forgive me? I couldn’t bear it if that anger was directed at me.

He talked about our old pretend school in my parents’ sunroom, looking out over the yard and the fence that had a Gavin-sized gap going to the alley. Eventually my father had put in a gate to make it easier for him to come over. He had no idea that he would later be enabling our torrid nights, Gavin coming in my window as freely as the hot winds blew through New Mexico.

My belly burned and the heat rushed between my legs. I tried to remember the last time we’d been together, all the way together, my last time. Maybe a week before the baby was born. Only in the last day or two when something seemed off, cramps in my back and random contractions, did we stop.

I managed to answer when he asked questions, but my mind wasn’t on the conversation anymore. I wanted to give him a shirt, so that I would stop looking at his chest. I’d been up against it twice already, and when he kissed me earlier, it had taken everything I had to get away.

But dang it, he made me mad. I was still so disgusted that our private story was out.

Gavin seemed to realize I’d quit paying attention and just watched me with those cool blue eyes.

I closed my own to cut off the visuals feeding my distraction, letting my head fall against the wall. Calling him had been a good thing. I felt in control again, less afraid of what had happened in the bathroom. Maybe now that the moment had passed I would be all right. I could send Gavin home, and we’d see each other in class on Monday, and fall into something easier than we’d endured so far. If I kept it light, then my secrets could stay tucked away. No more drama. No disaster or rejection or guilt.