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YOU’RE MY BABY

Lizzie

APRIL 15, 2003

“O KAY , I’ M FINISHED, ” H UGH DECLARED THREE HOURS DEEP INTO A REVISION SESSION during Easter break. Closing the textbook on his lap, he tossed it onto his bed with all the others and leaned back on his pillow. “I have officially retained every word of the course syllabus.”

“Not so fast, buddy.” Swiveling around on his desk chair to face him, I arched a brow in challenge. “Name a gas the earthworm produces during respiration.”

He rolled his eyes. “Carbon dioxide.”

“What’s the chemical name for marble chips?”

Another eye roll. “Calcium carbonate.”

“Give me the name of the two products formed when sodium reacts with water.”

“Sodium hydroxide.” He rolled a piece of paper into a ball and tossed it at me. “And hydrogen gas.”

“Now explain refraction of light,” I laughed, dodging the airborne missile.

“The bending of light when it passes from one medium into another,” he reeled off, sounding bored. “Can we do something else now?”

“Nope.” I shook my head. “Not until you list the first thirty elements on the periodic table.”

“Seriously?” Hugh grumbled, sounding impatient. “I could do that in my sleep.”

Yeah, I knew he could, but his ability to retain and recite fascinated me. “Hey, you’re the one sitting his junior cert exams in June,” I laughed, holding my hands up. “I’m just trying to be a supportive girlfriend.”

“If that’s the case, then feel free to support me,” he replied with a smirk, patting the mattress. “I could always use a refresher course in human biology.”

My body burned with heat when he said that because I knew he meant it. Clearly, something had changed between us that day in the library, because not only was Hugh not slamming the brakes on touching, but he was starting to initiate it.

“Do you have any idea how attractive you are?” I mused, enchanted by this boy. “Seriously, you are the sexiest nerd alive.”

“You’re calling me a nerd?” Rolling off his bed, my boyfriend prowled toward me, shirtless and in a pair of low-slung shorts. “You’re a bigger bookworm than I am.”

“True,” I mused, eyes raking over his glorious six-pack. “But I don’t care about school like you do.”

“Because you’re a little rebel.” A shiver racked through me when Hugh placed his hands on the armrests of my chair and leaned in close, caging me in. “Aren’t ya?”

“Maybe,” I breathed, heart bucking wildly, when my legs opened of their own accord, and he slid between them. “But I’m your rebel.”

“No.” His lips brushed against mine as he spoke. “You’re my baby.”