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My heart pounds in my chest as I practically fling my dorm room door open. Even now, the thought of him makes my stomach clench in nervous delight. If that even makes sense. Before me stands a dangerously handsome Étienne St. Clair, dripping with rain. He beams at me, revealing his crooked row of bottom teeth, and I flash him a gap toothed smile in return. I can't believe I get to spend the weekend with him.

"Anna," he breathes. Ugh, I love the way he says my name. Ah-na.

"Étienne!" I cry, and am about to launch myself at him when I remember that he's soaking wet. I raise my eyebrows at him. "You know, I'm not sure if you're aware, but there are these wonderful contraptions called umbrellas. Are you familiar?"

"I am. In fact, I'd love to borrow your Hello Kitty one sometime."

I laugh. "Whatever. But if you get my floor dirty, you'll have to clean it up."

"Yes, mother," He bows to me with mock politeness. I roll my eyes.

"Please. You love your mother."

"I love you, too."

When I look at him again, his brown eyes are wide and serious. I respond by easing my own silly expression into a soft smile. We stare at each other for a few moments. God, he's beautiful.

"Well, you could at least say it back." Étienne is smiling, but I see a hint of worry shine through his expression.

And then I can't help myself.

I lean forward and kiss him. Soon, I am touching his hair and face, not even caring that I'm getting my own clothes wet. His mouth is moving against mine and his hands are sliding across my back, pushing me closer to him. When our lips part, our breaths are shallow. We let our foreheads touch.

"Of course I love you," I say softly. "You bloody arse."

He laughs, probably at my terrible English accent. That's when I suddenly become very conscious of his arms still wrapped around me and the rain they're pressing into my clothing. I push him away firmly, making a face at the dark stains on my shirt.

"Hey, I wasn't the one who attacked you with a kiss." He says, holding up his hands. "Now, are you going to let me in, or are we going to stand in your doorway all weekend?"

I smile and step aside to let him into my dorm room, fiddling with the banana bead hanging around my neck. Étienne shrugs his soaked hoodie off to reveal a t-shirt with a huge N on it for Napoleon Bonaparte. He kicks off his boots and they hit the ground with two loud thumps.

"So, how was the train ride from Berkeley?" I ask.

"Fine." he smirks. "Wet."

"You're so lame." I tell him, but I'm laughing along with him.

He plops down on my bed and deposits his overnight bag on the floor as I grab a towel from the bathroom. I can't just let him sit around with soaking hair. And not touch it.

"Bend down," I order. He obliges. Because he's sitting, it's easy to work the towel through his hair. I dry his locks meticulously, taking my time, just because I love the way it feels. When I'm done, I tentatively run my fingers through his beautiful locks as they begin to curl. He lifts his head with my hand still on it, and leans towards me. And then we're kissing again.

Our kiss is deeper this time, more desperate, which I'm definitely not complaining about. He places a hand on the small of my back and pulls me onto his lap so that I'm straddling him. My arms are locked around his neck, and his hands move up and down my back. I press myself against him harder and kiss him hungrily. I just can't get enough of my Étienne. We're surrounded by each other. I love it, and I love him. Sitting here in his arms, I feel more at home than I've felt in a long time.