been to encourage group studying, but mostly it was work of the one-on-one nature that got done in them instead.
“Hey.” Easy’s deep blue eyes lit up when he saw her. He tossed aside his copy of
Tropic of Cancer
. In his black waffle-knit tee and destroyed Levi’s, with his dark curls slightly matted across his forehead, he looked positively edible.
Callie let her black leather Pierre Hardy saddle bag drop to the floor and immediately threw herself into the side of the booth where Easy was sitting, tackling him roughly.
“Oof!” Easy’s knee banged against the edge of the table. He grinned slowly, a small crust of white toothpaste stuck in the corner of his mouth. Callie licked her finger and painted the toothpaste away. “Thanks, Mom,” he drawled, and Callie smacked him lightly on the shoulder before scooting off him. She traced her fingers down his leg, loving how square and boy-like his giant knees were beneath their super-soft denim. She couldn’t tear her gaze from his beautiful blue eyes. They reminded Callie of the ocean, but not the bright, Caribbean turquoise one that everyone loved to snorkel in—the dark, out-in-the-middle-of-the-Atlantic Ocean, whose depths you couldn’t even fathom.
Easy leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. It started out sweet and tender, and then slowly, it began to build and build, until they both had to pull away. They stared at each other, knowing exactly what the other was thinking.
“Want me to, uh, put
Lolita
on the book cart by the door?” Easy asked in a low voice, referring to the time-honored signal that the Staxxx were in use. His Kentucky accent became more pronounced the more turned on he got, and right now, Callie could barely tell he’d spent the last two and half years at an East Coast prep school. His finger ran around the top of her Habitual stovepipe jeans, brushing lightly against the small of her back. Callie felt her stomach drop, the way it did in the high-speed elevator that took her to her father’s office at the top of the Bank of America skyscraper in downtown Atlanta.
“What if we get caught?” she asked, only half concerned. The library was always dead in the morning, and besides, everyone was too busy stressing about the barn investigation to even think about having an SAT study party. She slipped off her eggplant TSE cardigan, revealing a thin white Anthropologie camisole underneath.
“Who cares?” Easy shrugged. “It might be our last chance. We ought to jump at every opportunity.” He had meant it as a joke, but as soon as the words left his lips, Easy felt his stomach flip-flop. Ever since the dean’s e-mail he’d been a nervous wreck, and he’d hardly slept at all last night. He’d been in trouble many, many times at Waverly, and even though he’d heard about that kid Julian’s lighter being found, he somehow felt that the accusatory e-mail had been directed at him, and him alone. He wouldn’t be surprised if within the week he’d been kicked out of Waverly, disinherited by his father, and sent to reform school. He wasn’t so much afraid for himself as for Callie. What would she do if he got kicked out? And what would he do if
she
got kicked out?
“Don’t be silly.” Callie shook her head, her wavy blond hair brushing her bare shoulders. “We’re not going anywhere.”
Easy put his hand behind Callie’s neck, loving the feel of her bare, soft skin. “It was a joke, but … babe, Marymount’s looking to kick someone out. And we were in the barn. We’re probably his number-one suspects.” He slid his hand down to Callie’s shoulder. “How come you’re not worried?” It struck him that he was acting all paranoid and, well, Callie-like, and she was acting all mellow and Easy-like. How had that happened? Did she know something he didn’t?
Callie shrugged, her hazel eyes seeming unconcerned. “I just have faith that whoever’s responsible will be punished.” She leaned in to nuzzle his neck. “You
“Hey.” Easy’s deep blue eyes lit up when he saw her. He tossed aside his copy of
Tropic of Cancer
. In his black waffle-knit tee and destroyed Levi’s, with his dark curls slightly matted across his forehead, he looked positively edible.
Callie let her black leather Pierre Hardy saddle bag drop to the floor and immediately threw herself into the side of the booth where Easy was sitting, tackling him roughly.
“Oof!” Easy’s knee banged against the edge of the table. He grinned slowly, a small crust of white toothpaste stuck in the corner of his mouth. Callie licked her finger and painted the toothpaste away. “Thanks, Mom,” he drawled, and Callie smacked him lightly on the shoulder before scooting off him. She traced her fingers down his leg, loving how square and boy-like his giant knees were beneath their super-soft denim. She couldn’t tear her gaze from his beautiful blue eyes. They reminded Callie of the ocean, but not the bright, Caribbean turquoise one that everyone loved to snorkel in—the dark, out-in-the-middle-of-the-Atlantic Ocean, whose depths you couldn’t even fathom.
Easy leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. It started out sweet and tender, and then slowly, it began to build and build, until they both had to pull away. They stared at each other, knowing exactly what the other was thinking.
“Want me to, uh, put
Lolita
on the book cart by the door?” Easy asked in a low voice, referring to the time-honored signal that the Staxxx were in use. His Kentucky accent became more pronounced the more turned on he got, and right now, Callie could barely tell he’d spent the last two and half years at an East Coast prep school. His finger ran around the top of her Habitual stovepipe jeans, brushing lightly against the small of her back. Callie felt her stomach drop, the way it did in the high-speed elevator that took her to her father’s office at the top of the Bank of America skyscraper in downtown Atlanta.
“What if we get caught?” she asked, only half concerned. The library was always dead in the morning, and besides, everyone was too busy stressing about the barn investigation to even think about having an SAT study party. She slipped off her eggplant TSE cardigan, revealing a thin white Anthropologie camisole underneath.
“Who cares?” Easy shrugged. “It might be our last chance. We ought to jump at every opportunity.” He had meant it as a joke, but as soon as the words left his lips, Easy felt his stomach flip-flop. Ever since the dean’s e-mail he’d been a nervous wreck, and he’d hardly slept at all last night. He’d been in trouble many, many times at Waverly, and even though he’d heard about that kid Julian’s lighter being found, he somehow felt that the accusatory e-mail had been directed at him, and him alone. He wouldn’t be surprised if within the week he’d been kicked out of Waverly, disinherited by his father, and sent to reform school. He wasn’t so much afraid for himself as for Callie. What would she do if he got kicked out? And what would he do if
she
got kicked out?
“Don’t be silly.” Callie shook her head, her wavy blond hair brushing her bare shoulders. “We’re not going anywhere.”
Easy put his hand behind Callie’s neck, loving the feel of her bare, soft skin. “It was a joke, but … babe, Marymount’s looking to kick someone out. And we were in the barn. We’re probably his number-one suspects.” He slid his hand down to Callie’s shoulder. “How come you’re not worried?” It struck him that he was acting all paranoid and, well, Callie-like, and she was acting all mellow and Easy-like. How had that happened? Did she know something he didn’t?
Callie shrugged, her hazel eyes seeming unconcerned. “I just have faith that whoever’s responsible will be punished.” She leaned in to nuzzle his neck. “You
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