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Stop thinking about him.

It’s difficult to focus on studying, just like it has been the last few days, but it’s even worse tonight. The dim lighting in the dorm room reminds me of the lighting in the library. Except…Lena is sitting much closer to me than Dante was.

Shouldn’t I feel…more?

It’s been an hour and a half. We get even closer, and Lena starts to play with the back of my hair as I read a passage and explain it to her.

I know what I should do. What I shouldwantto do.

But I don’t make a move.

Lena is the one who, after almost two hours, slowly moves our work off our laps and crawls into mine.

“Hi,” I whisper, looking up at her. “Need something?” My words are meant to be flirty, but they sound more confused than anything else.

Lena smirks at me and straddles my lap more directly. “I think we both could use some stress relief,” she replies. Her voice is sultry, the exact tone I’d expect a siren to have.

But her on top of me, her hands rubbing at my shoulders and her hips starting to push against my lap, doesn’t make my stomach tingly.

I feel blood rushing to my dick, but it feels so…completely disconnected from the rest of me. My heart races.

“Maybe we could,” I reply, trying to play it cool.

I slide my hands onto her hips and rub slowly. Lena leans down and starts to kiss my neck.

It’s warm. A little wet.

Usually when we make out, I’m tipsy.

Right now, I’m completely sober.

I try to focus on her as I slide my hands up the back of her shirt, feeling that she’s braless. She moans softly as I rub her back and down her sides.

Every move I make is…robotic, almost. I notice I’m practically holding my breath.

My erection is there, but just barely, like a shadow of arousal. That’s what I’m used to, but for the first time I wonder if that’s how it should be.

“You’re so hot, Ethan,” Lena whispers into my ear.

I shiver. My shoulders tense and I feel like I can’t move.

“Mm,” I manage to get out.

I wait for her to continue kissing my neck, but she goes still, and then pulls back to look at my face in the dim light.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

Fuck, she noticed.

“Nothing,” I lie.

“You’re not breathing and you’re frozen in fear, Ethan,” she insists. Lena frowns and slides off my lap. “I know what that feels like.”

“I’m not afraid,” I tell her. “Just nervous, that’s all.”

“You’re always nervous, and that’s why we’ve moved slowly, but something is up.” She sits close beside me and puts a hand on my arm.

“Ornotup, you mean?” I ask. “I can’t control that.” My voice is defensive, and embarrassment floods through me. I tear my gaze away from her.