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in front of my door and slide my huge key into the lock. While the rest of the school i s bursting with modern technology, the y still use brass keys for the dorm doors. I guess it was more secure and less of a headache for the staff. No one has to reset a brass key when it ’ s left next to a cell phone too long. I push open the door, knowing my room was clean before I left. I didn’t intend on coming back until after New Year ’ s.
    I hold the door open and Holly glances at me. The way those brown eyes slip across my face and then my chest, makes my heart beat harder. She passes in front of me and I manage not to sweep her in to my arms and shower her with kisses. I smile, thinking about. Of course, she picks that second to turn and look at me.
    Her head tilts to the side, making her long hair fall over her shoulder. “What’s that smile for?”
    I shrug. Hiding things from her is impossible. She seems to have been made with a direct link to my thoughts, and uses it frequently. I answer honestly, “You.”
    “Oh,” she says and turns around, looking at the room. She steps between the two beds and her eyes swiftly pass over the things on each side of the room. She points to the left and says, “That’s your side, isn’t it?” I nod. She smiles and tucks a curl behind her ear. Her eyes flick up and meet mine for half a bea t before returning to the bed. There’s no where else to sit and the room is insanely small.
    I realize that she’s uncomfortable. She twists her fingers the way she does when she’s nervous. Her lips part, like she’s going to say something, but she doesn’t. My god, if she acts like this all night, I’ll lose my mind.
    Grinning, I walk toward her and say, “It’s okay. You can sit. I swear it’s clean. I haven’t had sex on it in a week. Or has it been a day?” I stroke my chin, feel ing the stubble under my finger tips.
    She smirks. “A week?”
    For some reason , she takes me seriously. “I’m kidding, Connelly. Damn, woman . You still think I’m a male slut, don’t you?”
    “Well, there seems to be a never-ending line of blondes behind you… under you.” She smiles as she says it.
    “Ah, my kryptonite—blondes with silky hair. You figured me out.” I swirl a finger in the air, while thinking, wondering, if she realizes that’s not my type at all.
    Holly’s my type. Everything from the way her hair curls to the shape of her body, to that sharp tongue that I want to suck into my mouth and kiss. God, how does she not see it? I’m practically drooling on her. I hold out my hand. “Sit. My room mate is a bit of a freak, so don’t touch his crap unless you want him to kill me when he gets back.”
    “Hmmm. My own hit man.” She raises her dark brows and taps a slender finger to her lips. “I could ditch my Caprice and get a Fiat, let him do all my dirty work.”
    I laugh. I can’t help it. The way she says it and that look on her face makes it funny. “A Fiat?”
    She smiles. “It’s my dream car. I think I could fit three of them inside the beast .” She turns toward me, her hands pressing into her arms as she folds them over her chest.
    “That’s your dream car?” I ask, goading her. But she doesn’t take my bait. She just stands there, inches from me, staring at me. Her eyes flick between my hair and my eyes, occasionally drifting to my lips. I wonder if I have ketchup on my face and she’s too nice to tell me. Why else would she be looking at my mouth?
    She nods once, slowly , and steps toward me. “I suppose you want something that’s more typical male. Like a midlife crisis car?”
    “Of course. Why do you think guys have a midlife crisis , anyway? It’s to get the car, babe.”
    She laughs. Her eyes drift to my mouth again and stay there. No one says anything. I hear my heart beating faster and Holly’s shallow breaths. Her hand lifts like she’s going to do something, but she only touches her hair, pushing a stray curl away from her glittering