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I have not had sex with anyone other than Jake in years. Jake was the kind of sex that just about scratches that itch, the kind where both people are thinking about something else halfway through. It worked because it was convenient and safe, and it didn’t make me feel anything that would get in the way of the plan. I know this will not be that.

This is Callum Fox, who kissed me against a brick wall and made a noise come out of me I didn’t know I could make.

I press my thighs together in the mirror and feel the ache. It’s been there since Friday in the alleyway. Since his mouth on my neck and his voice low and rough and the way his hands tightened at my waist. I’ve been carrying it around for three days, this low, insistent throb that flares every time I think about him. So, every forty seconds.

I sat through an entire two-hour lecture on Monday with my legs crossed so tight my hips hurt, because the professor said the word pressure and my brain immediately went to Cal’s hands and I had to physically grip the edge of the desk. Imagine being so horny you can’t even hear normal words? That’s how bad I’m down for this man.

I don’t know what it is between us and I don’t want to discuss it, because discussing it means naming it and naming it means making it real and making it real means I have to think about what happens when this whole fantasy ends and I become a doctor and the whole thing becomes a story I tell Sydney over wine in five years’ time.

Maybe we just need one night.

That might be all this is. A spark, a reaction, something chemical and temporary that we get out of our systems and then go back to being tutor and tutee, and nobody has to feel anything complicated about it.

The sensible version of me says this is probably not allowed with your tutee. I should email Priya and just check about relationships in this program. But obviously not tonight, because emailing your pre-health advisor asking for permission to get railed while waiting for a man to knock on your door feels like a pretty big turn-off.

But maybe tomorrow I can ask if another LA spot has opened up. I can say the assignment has become complicated. Then I can be a responsible adult again.

Or maybe she will never find out.

My phone buzzes on the sink.

Cal

I’m outside

I stare at it and close my eyes. My heart is already beating so fast.

Cal

I can see you’ve read

like outside your front door

are you going to let me in or do I have to freeze to death on your doorstep

I roll my eyes. He is twenty minutes early. I thought I had more time to prepare.

Bea

You’re early! Gimmie two minutes

Cal

I’m counting

I drop the phone and pull on the underwear I picked out, a matching single black set with some lace, and throw on a baggy T-shirt and cotton soft shorts. I doubt I’ll be wearing this for very long anyway.

My hair is still damp. I open the door, and there he is, leaning against the frame with his hands in his pockets. I’m hit once again with the realization of how fine this man is. His body is all muscle underneath those clothes, his dark hair is falling just a little over his forehead, and underneath that, his blue eyes are looking right at me.

“You’re early,” I say.

He checks me out slowly, head to toe. “Yeah.”

“By twenty minutes.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you impatient, Callum?” I drop my tone seductively.