The Do-Over (Extra Credit Book 2) by Charlotte Penn Clark

Author:Charlotte Penn Clark [Clark, Charlotte Penn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780998824406
Published: 2017-04-30T18:30:00+00:00

14

Annika

We take our time walking to Matt’s house, even though we’re both impatient. I think we want to make sure everything tonight is deliberate and chosen, not rushed or impulsive like so much of our history. I find I like the idea of the do-over. Maybe we can get this right this time. I want the Matt I first met That Night and the Matt I talked to tonight. That Matt is hard to resist and now I’m not sure why I should.

I remember when we get to the door of his frat. We both pause awkwardly. The downstairs is lit up and full of voices. It’s all too familiar. Matt goes quiet, listening, then turns to me.

“Want to go to your place?”

I’m listening too. Some of those voices are some of the guys who made my last night here so miserable…. But I shake my head.

“This is what makes it a do-over,” I insist, starting up the stairs.

“You wanted this—us—on the down low though,” Matt whispers, catching up to me on the porch.

And I’m torn because he’s right. Walking through his living room and up to his bedroom will totally blow our cover. I pause again, uncertain, and our eyes hold.

It’s been like this all night—my eyes and hands gravitate to him, then stick. He wears that suit like he was born into it, with the athletic grace and social ease I admire so much. And remembering the body underneath has been distracting me. Now his dark eyes flicker, intent, and his fingers brush my chin. Any minute now we’ll be kissing again, which will be even more conspicuous.

“You know that I don’t care who knows about us, right? I told you, once I know what I want….” The words hang there and my pulse accelerates even more. “Any sneaking around is for your sake.”

I nod and tangle my fingers with his. I understand and I’m grateful he’s cooperating.

Drawing a deep breath, he tightens his hold on my hand. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

Opening the front door we walk as casually as possible through the entryway, up the stairs, and into his room, without pausing or meeting anyone’s eyes. If there was any reaction, I didn’t see or hear it. Matt closes the door behind us quietly and I hear the lock click.

“Yes, locking the door seems like a good idea this time,” I smirk.

Standing in the middle of his room, I’m bombarded by memories. I was here two weeks ago with Lucy, but it’s so different to be alone with him. His room faces the back, with two large windows over the yard. There are no posters on the wall but a mantelpiece holds framed photographs of his family and several soccer trophies. Books are scattered in piles and a desk is covered in papers, but the room seems neater than last year.

I turn and Matt is still leaning against the door, watching me. I sit down on his bed and lean back on my hands, admiring him. I’m not sure where this boldness comes from, but I feel I’ve been waiting forever for this.

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