Classes started tomorrow, which meant my anxiety had already assumed leadership over my dream state. I tossed and turned in my sleep, plagued by scenarios in which I was running late to class or struggling to find my lecture hall, despite scoping out my classrooms and rehearsing my commute all of yesterday. I didn't even have caffeine today; Carl was just hyperactive for no good reason at all.

Theo was to blame, surely. He'd been on my mind all week. Infecting my thoughts like a parasite. Invading my brain and coring all logical, pragmatic contents.

Theo, and his stupid face and beanie. His evil smile and that mane of thick, dark hair—just long enough to run my fingers through. Just long enough to tug on.

I groaned and flopped over onto my back. Get out of my head, loser!

But as I drifted back to sleep, my brain continued to feed me images of the pharmacy student. His body hovering over mine. The slope of his strong, naked shoulders. His arm muscles flexing under his weight. His hands on the back of my thighs, fingers digging into my skin. His mouth traveling across the slant of my neck.

Bangs shading his face. Heart pounding against mine. His tongue—

I forced my eyes open and yanked the covers off. Too hot, too frustrated. Too awake. 

"...What the fuck, Carl."

With heavy eyelids and a ball of agitation in my stomach, I headed to Grounds before my first lecture, determined to put an end to this obsession.

I refused to suffer in the aftermath of our New Year's fling. The only sleepless nights I could afford this semester were the ones hunched over my books, cramming for a test—not replaying Theo's performance in my head, over and over again.

That was just pathetic.

I needed to get him out of my system once and for all, and after a long, pensive shower, I came to a humiliating conclusion: if I wanted to purge Theo from my brain, I had to hook up with him again (without alcohol obscuring our obvious incompatibilities).

I'd propose a one-night stand intended to kill the curiosity. A physical exchange absent of heartbreaking confessions and emotional foreplay. And hopefully, without the allure of a Cinderella moment, I'd realize there was nothing special about him, and I could move on with my life like nothing ever happened—like every other boy I'd fantasized about.

Good ol' psychic satiation.

Unless...I liked it better the second time around—assuming Theo was even on board with the idea in the first place. In that case, we'd be fanning the flames of disaster.

Balls.

I paused behind the swing gates of the railroad, waiting to cross the tracks. My exhales turned to white vapor in the cold, and I regretted not wearing thicker socks this morning. My toes were already frozen inside my leather boots, begging for reprieve, and the day was just getting started.

My gaze slid to the coffee shop at the bottom of the hill, and I sighed.

Hell, maybe Baker was right, and friends with benefits was the answer.

I had no intention of pursuing a relationship with Theo, and he wasn't capable of opening his heart up to anyone right now, even if he wanted to. But perhaps we could help each other out.

As mattress mates, I'd get to practice having safe sex—a perfect solution to my belated adulthood—and he'd have a healthy outlet for his sexual needs while he recovered from his breakup. We could help relieve each other's stress without the stress of a relationship.

Plus, I wouldn't be disappointed if I went into this thing with zero romantic expectations. The arrangement would be temporary anyway, and it was a whole lot easier to make the leap when I saw the ground below me. Eventually, we'd grow bored of each other's company, and when we did, we'd be able to cut ties without any hard feelings.

...Right?

The train shot past me, shuddering against the rails and blaring its air horn—like a siren trying to wake me up from my delusions.

A few seconds after the final car vanished from sight, the gates opened, and I crossed the tracks, convincing myself that I wasn't about to make the worst decision of my life.

The shop hadn't seen this many customers since finals.

Students, professors, and college staff stood in line for their morning coffee fix, and the baked treats in the display case were already gone. It gave the impression that business was booming, but I had to wonder if the traffic would die down as soon as students stopped attending their early morning lectures in favor of sleeping in or treating their hangovers.

I searched the coffee shop for a familiar red beanie, but the grumpy barista was nowhere to be found.

"Where's Theo?" I asked the employee at the register. Her blue hair had faded to green over winter break, and with her dark eye makeup and septum piercing, she was almost as intimidating as Baker.

Almost.

"He's on dish duty," she said, jerking her chin at the door with an Employees Only sign. "Go tell him he's needed up front, will you? My shift's almost over."

I nodded and marched for the back of the shop, pushing through the door into a storage area with a tiny kitchenette and break room.

Theo stood at the sink, and when his irritated gaze shot to my face, he froze. 

"Who the hell let you back here?" he demanded.

I shrugged off my backpack to indicate that I meant business. "Your bouncer."

He ran his tongue over his molars as he wiped his hands on a towel. "What do you want, Stains?"

I was surprised by his brusqueness. The playful, flirtatious attitude from last week was gone, and I wasn't sure if he'd just had a rough morning at work or if he felt as sexually frustrated as I did.

Only one way to find out.

I opened my mouth, only to falter.

"Um..." I swallowed, and my gaze fell from his exasperated face to the smudged pen ink on his wrists. A few prominent veins lined his forearms, carving intricate patterns on his skin, and I struggled to peel my eyes away.

Why was that so damn attractive?

A strange look passed over his face, and then an impish smile tugged at his lips. "Oh," he said, and his entire demeanor shifted. "I lit a flame, huh?"

That stupid, smug face had me regretting everything. I scoffed and folded my arms over my chest, as if that would hide the target he'd struck. "You barely scratched an itch."

The comment chipped at his arrogance a little, and he nodded, his humbled gaze dipping away. He leaned back against the counter. "It can be hard to get there the first time, especially when you're anxious."

I gave a halfhearted grin. "Yeah, well, I'm always anxious."

He met my gaze, and his black eyeliner made him look a little too rebellious. "Is that a challenge?"

The question sent butterflies swooping through my stomach. "What are you saying?"

He stepped toward me, and my pulse quickened, shuddering in my temples. "I mean, you sought me out for something, right? Or did you just need your syrup-water this morning?"

Goddamn it. Was I that obvious?

I pressed my lips together. "...Are you going to make me say it?"

His toothy smile made me want to slam my head against the wall. "No, but I like making you blush."

He moved behind me, leaning in so close I could feel his body heat, inhale his earthy aroma. The other night, he'd smelled like alcohol, toothpaste, and hand soap. But today, his scent contained traces of coffee grounds, cedarwood deodorant, and something distinctly Theo.

I stood still as he pulled my jacket down over my shoulders. Then I felt his lips brush my exposed nape, and my inhale died in my throat. "You been thinking about me, Mona?" he whispered.

Warmth flooded my body at the sound of my name leaving his lips, and I wanted to kick myself. How did his voice evoke such a strong reaction? Why did this asshole have so much power over me?

"I haven't...not thought about you," I confessed, barely hanging on to rational thought as I battled my deafening heartbeat.

His quiet laugh tickled my neck, and he slid my jacket off my wrists, draping it over my discarded backpack. Cold air seeped through my long-sleeved shirt, but a fire burned within me.

When he straightened, we stood spine to chest with nothing but fabric between us, and I was sure he could feel my heart's violent echo through my ribcage. His left hand tucked a piece of hair behind my ear before dropping to my collarbone. As it traveled lightly across my chest, I closed my eyes, focused on the calloused palm against my skin, the fingertips slipping under the neckline of my shirt, teasing the cleavage above my bra. His other hand moved south over my stomach, then down to my naval and the hem of my leggings—tentatively, as if he were asking for permission.

Distantly, I heard Carl warning me not to do something right here in the back of the coffee shop—out in the open where anyone could stumble upon us—but the heat pooling between my legs silenced his mounting reservations.

I leaned into him, asking for more. Begging to be closer. Accepting defeat.

Submitting.

I could feel him through his jeans, hard and erect against the curve of my ass, and if his words hadn't already soothed my performance anxieties, knowing I had an immediate effect on him did wonders for my confidence. 

"If it makes you feel better, I've been thinking about you too, and it's distracting as hell," he admitted, his cheek flat against mine. His left hand sank beneath my sports bra to cup my right breast, his fingers squeezing me tightly, roughly, like he'd been waiting decades to touch me again. I let out a startled gasp, and my thoughts spiraled in a million directions when he began kneading and pinching my nipple. "I've been thinking about these too. A lot."

I would have laughed at the comment if I hadn't lost all control over my corporeal existence. At this point, I'd surrendered myself to him completely; I was putty in his hands, and the bastard knew it.

"I can't get you out of my head, Mona," he said, and the hand on my belly slid down, down, down until it found the space between my thighs. "Your body beneath mine. The way you move. The way you moan." He pressed his fingers upward, right where my body ached for contact, and I reached for the metal shelf in front of me, afraid my knees might give out if I didn't anchor myself. "Fuck, I think the sounds you made are burned into my brain forever."

A breathy sound spilled from my lips, and I felt him grin.

"Yeah?" he whispered, swirling the pad of his finger over me once again, teasing the most sensitive part of my body. Torturing me with uncanny precision. "There?"

My legs shook, and I nodded frantically, letting out another erotic whine. There, there, there.

I was grateful for the commotion outside the break room. If someone heard me and walked in on us right now—with Theo's hand down my shirt and his fingers between my legs—my soul would leave my body. If we were caught, I'd never be able to set foot here again.

And yet...

Repressing a groan, Theo yanked my shirt down to fully expose the breast in his palm. Then, with the confidence of an elite lover, he slid his right hand beneath the top of my leggings and the seams of my thong.

As soon as his fingers grazed my bare skin—and the blatant evidence of my arousal—the two of us shivered together. "Fuck," he hissed, exploring me with a primal fascination. "You're so...fuck."

Intense pleasure coursed through me as he quickly adapted to my body's wants and needs—a guitarist familiarizing himself with a new fretboard. His touch put me under a spell, and for a few seconds, minutes, hours, all I knew were broken gasps and waves of blissful heat. In my core. In my toes. In the curve of my neck, where he sucked on my skin, and the sensitive place behind my ear, where he flicked his tongue.

The rest of the world disappeared.

Everything and everyone but Theo.

I cursed when his fingers sank inside me, leaving his thumb to torment me in the best way possible. Every muscle in my body clenched at the provocative chords he played, and my grip tightened on the shelf. "Oh my god—"

His left hand covered my mouth to stifle my whimpers. "That's it." His teeth grazed the edge of my ear. "C'mon, Mona."

That beautiful, building pressure grew stronger, sharper, and almost painful. And then, at the same instant his fingers curled upward, I ripped his hand from my mouth and turned to kiss him, desperate to be filled in every way, touched in every way. Fused to him. Encased.

He was ready for me when I needed him, and he licked into my open mouth, happy to deliver the heat and ferocity I craved.

The sensation sent me crashing over the edge.

I arched my back and moaned into his mouth as a rush of endorphins polluted my bloodstream. It felt like a firework had detonated inside me, like I'd been struck by lightning and blasted from the world I'd come to know.

I sagged against him, coming down from my high, gasping for air, and only then did he cease his euphoric melody. Only then did he remove his hands.

When the waves subsided, I opened my eyes to a room of brick walls and fluorescent lights. My right hand still clenched the shelf of spice jars, coffee beans, and sugar packets in front of me. And at some point, I'd grabbed a fistful of Theo's hair with my left hand, knocking his beanie to the floor.

I quickly opened my fist, embarrassed by my feral behavior, and upon his immediate release, Theo spun me around to face him. I threw my hands between us to keep myself from crashing into him, but the intensity in his eyes just made me want to tackle him to the ground and kiss him senseless.

We stared at each other, panting in tandem, flushed and ravenous. His pupils were dilated, and his hungry eyes trailed down my body, lingering on my rosy, heaving chest, before flying back to my face.

I wanted to kiss him again. Kiss him until I couldn't breathe.

There was a bout of laughter from the front of the house, and we both froze, snapping back to reality.

Crashing back to earth.

After a moment of painful deliberation, he stepped back, killing the beautiful heat between us and closing the curtain on our misbehavior.

My gaze dipped to the tent in his jeans. "What about you?"

"Don't worry about me. Consider us even."

He returned to the sink and began washing his hands, casually, as if he hadn't just flipped my world upside down. Then he snatched a fresh apron out of the dryer and began tying it around his waist to conceal the evidence of our crime.

I gaped at him, unsure what to say. That had far exceeded the sexy, drunken wrestling match on New Year's Eve, and I had a feeling alcohol had numbed me to the full extent of Theo's capabilities. But now that I'd tasted sober intimacy, I wanted more.

Just as I'd feared.

I swallowed, struggling to stitch a sentence together with all the neurochemicals in my system. "Theo...I was thinking—"

"Landing! I need you up front!" the green-haired barista hollered from the register, and Theo cringed. He moved for the door and paused beside me for a final once-over, as if he wanted to remember this moment—the awed and flustered look on my face, the shirt he'd wrinkled, the short curls he'd ruined.

He hesitated briefly before sweeping in and kissing my cheek. Then he retrieved his beanie from the ground and rushed out the door.

Leaving me alone in the storage room.

Dizzy, hot, and frazzled.

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Mission failed successfully XD