We look at each other, and then we’re both laughing. Nell covers her mouth with her hand, trying not to make too much noise as her bright eyes meet mine.

Kiss her. Kiss her now.

She leans her head back on the cushion, sighing as her laughter gives way to a few deep breaths. And the moment has passed. I’m not sure whether I’m proud or pissed at myself for resisting.

“Well . . . that was eventful,” I say.

“Seriously, if he’d caught us . . .”

“Oh, I was talking about you flashing me.”

She brings her fist down hard on my thigh, and I catch her hand.

“Easy. I’m kidding. Mostly. Okay, not at all. That black lacy thing you’re wearing is definitely still winning for most memorable part of the night.”

“Do you ever think about anything besides sex?”

She tries to tug her hand away, but I keep it trapped between mine and my thigh.

“Sure. I think about football. And food. But the rest of the time, I’m definitely thinking about your boobs.”

“Shhh! Be serious.”

“I would never joke about your tits, sweetheart. I take them very seriously.”

She glances around at the students working. “You’re going to get us in trouble. Again.”

I hear the elevator ding, signaling a car has just arrived on this floor, and we look at each other. What are the odds that someone other than the cop would be coming up here at this hour? Too slim to chance it.

“Go that way, back into the stacks,” I tell Nell, and in seconds we’re up off the love seat and making our escape. Her short legs move in a quick exaggerated walk, and her long hair bounces against her back with the movement. I glance behind us, but no one has exited the hallway yet.

We pass row after row, and it’s not lost on me where we are. I’d been joking when I teased her about the Sweet Six, but here we are, in the very spot I mentioned. The shelves are lined with old yearbooks, course catalogs, student manuals. There’s an entire section of old newspapers and documents, including the university’s original charter, displayed under a glass case. In other words, nothing that would interest a college student in the middle of the night unless he was looking for a deserted place to make out.

Nell makes a turn into one of the stacks about three-quarters of the way back, and before I follow her, I take one more glance back. Coming out of the elevator hallway are two Asian girls, whispering quietly, book bags slung over their shoulders. So not the cop, then. I relax, and then follow Nell only to find her leaning against one of the shelves, flipping through some old thick textbook. So I stand corrected. Of course, Nell can find something of interest everywhere.

I take a moment just to gaze at her. She seems absorbed in the book, but I’m not sure whether that’s real or just her playing a role in case the cop was to wander by. She’s wearing snug black yoga pants again and a baggy T-shirt. I love that she makes absolutely no effort to dress up for me. With Nell, you know exactly what you’re getting because she doesn’t see any need to mold herself into something she isn’t. And it doesn’t matter what she’s wearing because the image of what she looks like underneath is permanently burned into my mind.

I take the book from her hands and am about to tell her that it was a false alarm when a noise distracts me. A very distinct noise.

Breathy and low, it starts out as a little gasping mewl before progressing into a quiet moan. If Nell’s suddenly rigid posture is any indication, she hears it, too. I start to return the book to the shelves so we can leave, but Nell’s hand on my wrist stops me. Her eyes are focused directly on the opening on the shelf that the book had occupied. It’s level with her eyes, but is about midchest for me. I shift behind her, bend a little, and realize that she’s got a perfect view of the couple going at it the next row over.

I shove the book on top of another shelf where it doesn’t belong because this just got really fucking interesting. Nell’s body language is still stiff, but she’s holding her breath, her eyes glued to the gap between the books.

A lanky dude has a girl pushed up against the stacks, and they’re making out. Like really going to town. I can see the bulge of his hand beneath the girl’s shirt, kneading at her breast. I keep waiting for Nell to snap out of it. It’s like when you pass a car wreck, and you can’t help but look, but then immediately feel guilty for gawking. But the seconds keep passing, and she’s not reacting except to keep holding her breath. I lean down, planting my mouth next to her ear, and ask, “So you like to watch?”

She exhales heavily, and I think I’ve broken the spell, but then she leans back into me and gives this sort of half shrug, half nod. Fuck. There’s no freaking way I’ll be able to keep my hands off her now.

“So what does it for you?” I ask. “Is it just seeing them? Seeing how into it they are? Or is it the fact that they could get caught at any moment? That we’ve caught them, and they don’t even know it.”

She shrugs.

“Come on, girl genius. Tell me what it is. I need to know.”

Before she can answer, the girl on the other side of the stacks turns around, and the guy flips up her skirt, and that finally provokes a reaction in Nell. She spins sharply, pressing her back against the shelves, blocking the opening with her head. Her breaths come fast and frenzied now, and her expression is stuck somewhere between horror and humor.

I step in close to her, and she has to tip her head back to meet my gaze. She has these big honey eyes, and when I’m this close I feel like I can almost see right through them to the thoughts beneath. She’s excited. But feels guilty for being excited. It doesn’t help that we can both still hear the couple on the other side. They’re trying to be quiet, but given how close Nell and I are, the slight squeak of the shelves and their labored breaths are evident. I plant my hands on her hips, holding her in place, and keep eye contact. Whatever just happened . . . I don’t want to pretend like it didn’t. Again and again tonight, she’s been shedding layers of her shyness, and I need it to continue.

I lean in close, and with my cheek against hers and the sound track of horny college kids still going in the background, I whisper, “I’m so fucking hard for you right now.”

I can feel her swallow, the way it moves through her whole body.

“Did you do this on purpose? For that stupid Sweet Six thing?”