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fingertips brush the cool wood of my headboard.  Ben bends down and lifts my legs, gently pulling my socks off one by one.  His fingers are cold, and I curl my toes into ten tight balls.  He chuckles. 
    There are no lights on in my bedroom, but the single bulb in the hall casts a thin silver halo over us.  Even though Ben’s face is a puzzle of grey shadows, I can still make out his eyes.  They are somehow brighter than any other part of him. 
    When h e looks at me this time, I look back and the air between us catches fire.  It’s like all the molecules in the room have been kicked into hyperdrive. 
    Ben shifts his torso forward, his body pressing me further into the mattress.  I hold my breath tightly in my chest, but I don’t break eye contact. 
    Eve ry part of me is trembling.  Too many thoughts are tumbling around in my head.  Like I’m thinking about how this is a bad idea, and how I’ll have to wake up one room down from him for the next seven months, and how I made Payton and Ainsley promise not to do exactly what I’m thinking about doing and that makes me a hypocrite. 
    But then there ’s the fresh soapy smell of him everywhere, and the mesmerizing way that he’s looking at me as if he’s just as hungry as I am.  Ben’s lips open on a soft sigh, and I’m run through.  It’s like an actual physical ache that shatters my bones and my resolve.  I lift my hands to his face.  I hold on, rubbing my palms against the gritty two-day stubble that coats his cheeks.  I’m afraid that letting go will unwind the moment and things will go back to how they were ten seconds ago. 
    Ben blinks.  I smolder.  He blinks again.  Then he leans closer and my body melts to accommodate his.  When his mouth is just an inch away from mine, he pauses.  It’s almost like he’s giving me one final chance to push him away.  I don’t. 
    So, Ben Hamilton kisses me.

CHAPTER FOUR
    Twins
     
     
    “Shhhh!” I whisper harshly into the phone. 
                  Mark chortles.  “Ellie, you just told me that Ben is at class.  I recognize that you want to believe that this guy has superpowers of some sort, but I don’t think he can hear us all the way from a classroom on campus,” he reasons in my ear.
                  Mark is right, of course.  Still, I have my hand cupped protectively over the mouthpiece of my cell phone, and I’m talking to him from inside a sort of tent I’ve made out of my bed covers.  I’m not taking any chances.
                  Typically, the first thing Mark does when I tell him about the kiss is shriek.  Then, he asks for all the juicy details. 
    I’ m trying my best not to sound like a romantic sap, but it’s supremely difficult.  I keep replaying the kiss over and over—Ben bending over me, his hair falling forward to tickle my cheek, my fingers cupping his face.  And then, those soft, perfect lips moving against mine, and his persistent tongue tasting, sucking deliciously.  If I’m being fair, it was the best kiss of my life—a kiss that finds all your seams and pulls them apart, stitch by delicate stitch.
                  Just thinking about it is almost too much. 
    A flush crawls up my neck to my face. 
                  “So how did it end?”  Mark wants to know. 
                  “Well, that’s the thing,” I say breathily, pushing two layers of covers from my head.  I’m getting hot with so many thoughts ricocheting around my brain.  “It was sort of a non-ending.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Well, we were interrupted.”
    “Interrupted?”
    “We heard Payton get off the phone,” I say. “She called both of our names and asked if we wanted to make daiquiris.  And…  Ben just—just… He just pulled away and left my room.”
                  “Hmmm...”
                  “Is that bad?”  I bite my thumbnail anxiously.  “It’s bad, isn’t