“So you can make it mean whatever you want it to?”

  “I guess. I never thought of it that way.”

  “What do you want it to mean?”

  Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he leaned against the closet door. He stared into space but his gaze kept coming back to her, looking up at him. “I don’t know. What do you think?”

  She cocked her head to the side and placed a finger on her lips, scrutinizing him. What did she see? He was ridiculously tall, light-skinned, and curly haired. Nothing really special, nothing that stood out except maybe his height and he tended to slouch to make it less of an issue. His T-shirt and sweats weren’t from any kind of designer. But this girl, this beautiful girl, kept staring at him like she was seeing something more. He had no idea what that could be.

  “Milo,” she said, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife impaling him. “I think it should mean solitary scholar.”

  A chill went through him. Maybe it wasn’t profound—he was sitting in his room alone studying in the middle of a party—but it felt profound to him, like she’d seen something true about him, even if it was obvious.

  He looked away from her crystal gaze. “Sounds about right.” His cheeks heated and he hoped she didn’t see. But most of all, he hoped she wouldn’t leave.

  He was blushing. It was the most adorable thing she’d ever seen. Actually, he was the most adorable thing she’d ever seen—he had this sort of shyness to him, that wasn’t really shy. He didn’t seem to have a problem talking to a strange girl who’d invaded his space, but there was something solitary about him.

  That was really the best word for him. He wore aloneness like a cloak. She envied him while at the same time, felt sorry for him. But standing here talking with him was like being alone with someone in a way she’d never felt before.

  She’d always been surrounded by people. As an only child, she’d never had the opportunity to be lonely because her parents were always bringing people around. Their employees and assistants, staff, party guests. Renee’s house was a bustle of activity one hundred percent of the time and she’d copied that once she’d gotten to college. Surrounding herself with roommates and girlfriends and then her boyfriend.

  Khalil had come with ready-made friends and they had all become a huge crew. She never had a moment alone and hadn’t minded. Or had she? Had she really felt suffocated by the only life she’d known? So suffocated that it was actually a relief discovering Khalil’s infidelity.

  Milo stood there awkwardly. Did she make him nervous? She certainly didn’t want to.

  A pulse of pain shot through her toes. She’d put on her shoes so as not to have to strain her neck looking at him, but now her feet hurt.

  There were only two places to sit in the room, the chair at his desk and the bed. It was just a double bed, and she didn’t see how he could fit in it. Maybe he just slept crossways. The thought made her giggle.

  He raised his eyebrows and she tried to get herself together, but the giggles turned into a full laugh and soon she was cracking up so hard she bent over.

  Milo was at her side with a hand at her elbow, leading her to the bed to sit down. Then he stood towering over her looking concerned.

  “I’m okay. For god’s sake, sit down.”

  He looked around like he wasn’t sure where he should sit in his own room, so she slid over to make room on the bed for him. The expression on his face when he sat next to her was priceless—both frightened and pained. She wanted to package it up and save it for all time. She also felt bad for invading his space but no way was she leaving now.

  For the first time in weeks, she felt comfortable. Both in her skin and in her solitude. Being alone wasn’t so bad if you were with someone like Milo.

  “I was laughing thinking about how you fit on this bed.”

  His confused expression sent her into a fit of giggles again. She grabbed his arm once she’d collected herself. “How tall are you?”

  “Six five,” he said, looking at her like she was a little crazy. Maybe she was, she felt a little crazy.

  “Do you, like, have to sleep diagonally?”

  He looked at the bed then back at her and a grin spread across his face. “I just curl up. Isn’t that how most people sleep?”

  She tilted her head to look at him and shrugged. “I have no idea.”

  “Why is that so funny?” He didn’t look annoyed just perplexed.

  “Again, no idea. I’m sorry, I wasn’t really laughing at you. I just…I haven’t laughed in forever. Sorry.” She was still touching his arm, and it was warm beneath her fingers. He was thin, being so tall, but not reedy. There was a cord of lean muscle beneath her fingertips that she had the sudden urge to stroke. She wanted to see him without his shirt on, she wanted to find out what he felt like, how hot his skin was and if she could make him moan. She really wanted to hear him moan.

  An image of him crowded into that tiny shower popped into her head. Water on his body, muscles bunching as he crouched.

  “What are you thinking about now?” he whispered. She didn’t know how much of her thoughts had made their way to her face, but she was at a loss for words.

  Gazing at him, she kept getting caught on his lips. They were full and kissable and suddenly she couldn’t think of anything else.

  She leaned forward, his lips the only thing in her vision. But he backed away.

  “Oh shit. I’m sorry.” She shook her head, mortification spreading over her. “Fuck.” She pulled her hand away and ran it through her hair before hiding her face.

  “You have a girlfriend,” she said at the same time he said, “Were you drinking?”

  His expression was concerned, not angry. She checked her breath. “No, do I smell like alcohol?”

  He shook his head.

  “So why did you ask me that?”

  “I don’t know, for a second there you seemed…drunk?” He lifted a shoulder, his gaze on her lips as well.

  Understanding dawned and she felt a rush of affection for him, even more than before. “So, I’d have to be drunk to kiss you?”

  His eyes widened and his mouth opened but nothing came out.

  “Do you have a girlfriend?”

  He shook his head.

  “You just don’t want to kiss me?”

  Once again, his eyes betrayed him by roaming to her lips and staying there. “It’s not that.”

  “What is it?”

  “I don’t even know you.”

  “I’m Renee. I crossed the police tape to see what was up here that was so precious we weren’t supposed to find it. I found you.” She leaned into him and felt his breath on her cheek. He smelled like peppermint and it only made her want to kiss him more.

  “Police tape?” His eyes were guileless, so open and innocent.

  She waved the question away. “Don’t ask.” She wasn’t sure what it was about him, but she wanted to find out. “So?”

  “So?” he whispered, a hair’s breadth away. It was like they were being towed together by an invisible line.

  “Can I kiss you?” Her lips were nearly brushing his they were so close. The peppermint invaded her nostrils and somehow turned her on even more.

  “If you want.”

  There was no distance to close. His lips on hers were warm and sensual. A trill rippled up her spine as they came together. She wrapped her arms around him; his hands moved tentatively to her waist. Sparks erupted under her skin where he touched her. Even through the fabric, his fingers felt right and strong. She slid over into his lap and straddled him. His shock transmitted through the kiss, but he recovered quickly and his palms slid down to cup her ass, bringing her closer. Now she was flush with his growing erection. He swelled against her panties, drawing a gasp from her.

  Her dress had ridden up to her thighs leaving them cold, but the rest of her body was hot. He kissed like she imagined he did everything, with focus and deliberation. With one hundred percent of his of himself and extraordinary attention to detail. He was thorough. Her mouth was plundered. His tongue stroked hers so completely, it was like she’d never experienced a kiss before today—this was so different.

  Heat shot through her and her exposed thighs finally warmed as the pressure of his hands on her ass increased when he tilted her down. Her back hit the mattress and he was on top of her, keeping the weight off her body with his knees. Legs wrapped around him, and the fever between her thighs was growing. She broke her mouth away and gasped for breath.

  “Take off your shirt.”

  He licked his lips and rose to do as she asked. She missed his hands on her butt, but it was worth it when he lifted his shirt to reveal cords of lean muscle on his slim frame. She sat up, running her hands down his chest then kissed everywhere she could reach. And then she got what she wanted, a moan. A deep one pulled from his diaphragm that shot her panties with moisture. He moaned so good. It should be illegal.

  Milo had made out with a few girls—in the closet while playing Seven Minutes in Heaven, on couches in basement rec rooms, beneath the bleachers at high school dances. His freshman year, before he started avoiding large gatherings of people, he’d had too much to drink one night and made out with his roommate’s sister, which had been a mistake.

  But making out with Renee made him feel like whatever he’d been doing before should be classified as a different activity altogether. Her skin was so soft and smooth, she smelled like sunshine and happiness. He couldn’t believe how responsive she was, her whole body shuddered when he touched her.

  He drew back to look down at her, hair spread on his pillow, and took a mental picture. A part of him was convinced this was some kind of hallucination. He needed to remember it accurately once he returned to consciousness.

  She smiled drowsily and he rested his head next to hers, breathing heavily. Within a few moments, she’d rolled into him, forcing him to lay on his back with her tucked under his arm.

  She drew lazy circles on his chest with her blue-tipped fingernail. “So why don’t you do parties? Don’t you like fun?”

  He lifted a lock of her dark hair and rubbed it between his fingers. “You got it, I hate fun. Death to all fun. What, do you think I’m the Grinch?”

  She giggled and the sound shot through his bones, filling him with warmth.

  “I like certain kinds of parties, but these huge, faceless crowds that invade every corner of the house, those aren’t the right kind.”

  She turned on her side and looked up at him, her eyes bottomless and open. “So what kind of parties do you like?”

  “Smaller ones. Where you can actually talk to people. Where you can dance without crashing into everyone, and hear each other, and get to know people.”

  “You dance?”

  He shifted, cupping her shoulder and kissing the top of her head. Hoping to avoid the topic. But, of course, Renee was having none of that.

  She hopped out of bed and held out her hands. “Dance with me.”

  The music from downstairs bled through the walls, a driving, EDM track he suspected you had to be on Molly to truly enjoy. “To this?” He shook his head.

  “You don’t have any music playing devices up here?” She turned on her heel and crossed to the desk, then bent to inspect the shelf under the window. He couldn’t help but look at her ass, pointed in his direction, and suppressed a groan. His dick was still painfully hard and embarrassingly visible in his sweat pants.

  She tossed a glance over her shoulder and smirked when she caught him staring. A snap of her fingers draw his attention back to her face. “You have vinyl?”

  He nodded and sat up, scrubbing a hand over his face. Adjusting his pants as best he could, he rose and paced over to her.

  She kneeled in front of the shelf full of records, flipping through them. “Why vinyl? Do you have a record player?”

  He chuckled. “Of course I have a record player. You think these are decoration?”

  “These aren’t even new, they’re antiques.”

  “They were my dad’s.”

  When her gaze hit him, he realized he’d let too much emotion into his voice. This girl was perceptive as hell. He held his breath, waiting for her to ask, but after a few moments she went back to scrutinizing the albums.

  “We can dance to this,” she announced, holding up a sleeve featuring a woman looking out a window expressively.

  Milo paused, surprised. This had been one of Dad’s favorites. The model on the cover resembled his mother, and he remembered sneaking down the steps, long after he was supposed to be in bed, to spy on his parents dancing barefoot to this song in the kitchen.

  He pulled the album from her hands and their fingers brushed. Though she’d touched far more of him, the contact still made his breath catch. To cover his reaction, he turned quickly and crossed to the stereo, which really was an antique, but it was his dad’s too and he’d never give it up while it still played. Maybe not even afterwards.

  The opening organ of Percy Sledge’s “When a Man Loves a Woman” filled the little room. Renee’s arms wrapped around his waist from behind. He turned into her embrace and slid his hands down her back.

  “I should get my shoes,” she said. Though she was pint-sized, she fit him perfectly. He shook his head. When she went to pull away, he grasped her waist and hauled her up. Her legs came around him, her arms circling his neck. Her body pressed against him was sweet agony, and they danced like that, her clinging to him, attached to him, chest to chest, heart to heart.

  “See,” he said into her hair. “This is my kind of party.”

  She laughed and squeezed him tighter. His hands grabbed her butt to keep her in place, and she sighed against his neck.

  “Mine too,” she whispered so soft he almost didn’t hear.

  Renee woke up warm. It was odd because she was never warm when she woke up alone, but a wall of heat burned at her side. She pried her eyes open to find the sun shining into her room from the wrong side—then last night came rushing back to her.

  Milo was still asleep, his face slackened and peaceful and beautiful in the morning light. She couldn’t see his hazel eyes, but his lips beckoned to her. She kissed him gently, and he smiled in his sleep.

  Her bladder was full, so she slipped out of bed to the bathroom across the hall. The cold, wood floor stung the bottoms of her feet. She ran back into his room to find him rubbing his face, staring at the spot where she’d lain as if confused. A huge grin broke onto his face when he saw her.

  “It’s freezing in here in the morning,” she said, rubbing her arms.

  “Then come back to bed.” He opened the covers to her. She dove in on top of him, settling into the warmth of his arms, resting her head on his chest.

  “Sorry I conked out on you,” he said.

  She didn’t know how long they’d danced. Record after record had gone by and she hadn’t wanted to stop, but at some point they’d fallen onto the bed and, apparently, into comas.

  An apology was written on his face and she kissed it away. “Milo. Why haven’t we met before?”

  He brushed a strand of hair off her forehead before tracing her lips with his finger. “Cause you’re not real.”

  “I’m not?” She raised her eyebrows.

  “Nope. Not real. Just an imaginary girl who showed up at my door last night trying to escape the best party of the year.”

  “That must make you imaginary, too.” She trailed a finger up his chest then stroked the emerging stubble on his chin.

  “Why? I’m not impossible.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  He lifted his shoulders. “I’m just Milo.”

  “And I’m just Renee.”

  “No, there’s no such thing. You’re like the sun, full of light. I’ve seen you out there. You always have a bunch of people around you, hanging off everything you say. You have a campus radio show, you write for the newspaper, you feed homeless kids on the weekends. You’re a force of nature, Renee.”

  “How do you know so much about me?” She tilted her head to regard him anew. Last night he hadn’t given any indication that he recognized her. How had she not seen him before? She would have remembered someone like him, so tall and beautiful.

  He shrugged.

  “We’ve never had any classes together, have we?”

  “Freshman English. Econ last semester.”

  “You were in my Econ class?” She was incredulous. He nodded. “With Professor Akanbe?”

  “Yup.” He smiled a half smile and looked away, his hold on her loosening.

  She thought back. Khalil had been in that class with her and she’d been so wrapped up in him, so wrapped up in who they’d been she hadn’t noticed anything outside that little world. Shame filled her.

  “That just proves I’m real. I’m a jerk. I don’t know how I couldn’t have noticed you.”

  He’d grown far away. Even though she was right there with him, his heart only inches from her lips, he was retreating. She could feel it.

  “Why would you have?” His voice was hushed.

  She forced him to look at her, sliding a hand to cup his cheek. With an unwavering gaze, she kissed him, slowly, remembering their first kiss and how she’d never felt anything like it before. He kissed her back just as thoroughly as before, with just as much focus. It thrilled her. She would make sure he knew how real she thought he was.

  She slid her hand underneath his boxers and stroked him. She kept stroking until his throat vibrated with a rumble that made her bones melt. Then he pulled his lips away.

  “What?” she said, chest heaving.

  He shook his head and before she knew it, she’d been flipped onto her back with him on top. She was still in the dress she’d worn all night. He slid up the skirt, hands grazing her thighs until her hem was at her waist and her panties were revealed. Then he kept pushing the dress up, helping her out of it until she lay in her bra and panties blushing under his perusal.