At eight p.m. sharp, I pulled up Callan’s driveway. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since lunch today. Before I could even get out of my car, Callan appeared at the side door, dressed in a casual pair of jeans and the same sweater from school today.
“Didn’t think you’d show up.”
I stepped out of the car and grabbed my backpack. “Were you waiting for me?”
Instead of answering me, he hummed and followed me through the house to the kitchen and attached living room. “I’m just finishing grading papers,” he said, looking down at the mess on the island counter.
“Oh good,” I said, hopping up onto a stool. “I can finish my work then.”
He paused. “Sure.”
While I was determined to spend time with him and not have s*x with him for once, fifteen minutes later, I was getting too ants
