Alright, the almighty poll has spoken, and about half of you voted for this. So here it is, part 4. The last part. And I mean it this time.

Um… dedicated to… I don't know. Probably ORy, since she's the one who usually bugs me about this story the most.

And I guess I should warn everyone again that this story is dirty, so read at your own risk. Although I guess I should apologize, cause it's definitely not as smut-tastic as the previous chapters. A little more plot...

Music: I'm not over you, can I get back under?

All in all, college hadn't been so bad.

No, really. He'd expected to feel alone and abandoned, but he didn't. Sure, he missed his friends and the Cohens, but that's what college was about, right? Finding your own place in the world, meeting new people, having to learn and grow on your own?

Plus, Kirsten made sure to call him at least once a week, and he would tell her about school until Sandy took over and then he'd have to repeat himself. He didn't know why they just didn't put him on speakerphone, but he assumed it was because they wanted more time with him, which made him feel less annoyed about having to run through a story twice.

Seth visited a lot, because he was bored in Newport, waiting for the spring semester when he could finally go be with Summer. Yeah, Ryan was sick to death at hearing Seth pine over her all the time. It's not like he didn't go visit her in Rhode Island, and she was coming home for Thanksgiving soon. She'd told him that in an email.

That had surprised him – Summer was actually very good at keeping up with people. She sent him regular emails and he found it easy to write back. Marissa wasn't as good at it, which ended up with about one email every three weeks or so. But he supposed her boat didn't get much internet access, so he took what he could. She sounded like she was having a wonderful time – alcohol and bad-boy free for nearly five months now. He was proud of her.

And then there was Taylor Townsend, whose emails – when they first started popping up – surprised him. Not because she was emailing him, but because they were… general. She went away to the Sorbonne and started sending everyone pictures and emails written in French. He knew she sent them out in mass quantities, because he saw Seth, Summer, Marissa, and her mother's email addresses CC'd.

But then an email came that had been just for him; a letter – written in English this time – and one picture that had kept him and his hand having regular after-dinner dates for a long time.

The funny thing was, she wasn't being weird and wanting something more from him. There was no hint in the email of 'I miss you' or anything. All she wrote was that she had been looking through her old photo albums, and run across the prom picture. And then decided to send one of her own – of her in that little black lingerie set he remembered from that night. Yeah, he had that picture tucked away securely in the top drawer of his dresser.

She hadn't ever said anything else after that, and the only emails he got from her were the ones everyone else got. Except he did notice that they'd gotten a little less frequent now, and for a week or two about a month ago, she'd stopped writing altogether. Then she'd started again, but never sent any pictures, just writing in French. He knew Summer had asked what was wrong, but he didn't think she got an answer.

Speaking of emails, he really should respond to Summer's latest rant about how all of Newport would be underwater soon.

A knock on the door interrupted him from his homework – which actually wasn't such a terrible thing, because philosophy bored the crap out of him. He got up to answer the door, wondering if maybe that guy from his Calculus class was going to take him up on his offer to explain what was going on. Instead, a breathless Taylor Townsend stalked past him, huffing loudly and throwing her purse down on his bed. Her luggage she propped up on the floor before whirling towards him – hair flying wildly.

"Taylor," he greeted, shutting the door and leaning against it. She looked great – well, it wasn't a red dress or a black lingerie set, but her jeans were tight and he definitely appreciated the view. His voice – calm and steady – seemed to make her freeze and he watched her relax a little, expression going from nervous and annoyed to happy.

"Ryan!" she smiled at him and stepped forward to hug him tightly. "It's great to see you." He hugged her back, happy that his body didn't turn traitor on him this time.

"It's great seeing you, too, but what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in France?" She sighed, the annoyance back on her face and she turned towards her purse, opening it and digging through it.

"I should be in France," she began, rooting through the giant thing, "but I'm not…"

"Obviously," he folded his arms and ran his eyes up her legs, taking in her amazing ass as she bent over slightly.

"Because…" she elongated the word until she pulled out a packet of papers triumphantly, "I need you to sign this." She held the packet to him and he reached forward, taking it. It was all in French.

"What is this?"

"Oh," she waved her hand at him, "just a silly little legal document. And I need a witness to sign it, to attest to my character…" He quirked an eyebrow at her, then frowned down at the thing.

"A legal document? What for?" Then he paused, looking up, "Taylor, what did you do?"

"It's nothing bad," she laughed a little, shrugging, "it's just for my divorce."

That made him freeze. Divorce? She was married? Since when? And why didn't he know about it? Surely if Summer had known, she would've told him, because even the new reformed Summer Roberts couldn't keep this bit of juicy gossip to herself.

"Your divorce," he repeated, just to be sure.

"I got married in France," she explained, looking a little ashamed of herself. "It's a long story, and I promise I'll tell you the whole thing one day, but what you need to know is I was alone and afraid, and he was nice to me, and he said he loved me and wanted to take care of me, and the next thing I know I'm half drunk at his parent's chapel in Burgundy and I'm saying 'I do'."

"Wow." Yeah, that was pretty much an understatement, but it was all he could really think of right now. Taylor Townsend was married to some French guy. He almost felt bad for jerking off to the memory of her.

Almost.

"Yeah. And now he won't give me a divorce, and I dropped out of the Sorbonne and came home to get away from him. Except he won't give me the stupid divorce, which is why I need you to sign this." She looked at him hopefully, and he walked over to his desk, grabbing a pen.

"Can I know what I'm signing to?" he asked, pen hovering over the line marked with a precise x.

"Just that I haven't been to prison, no contact with livestock…" she trailed off when he didn't say anything. Then she sighed, shoulders dropping. "Fine, it says we had sex like, thirty times while I was married."

He couldn't help but grin, straightening up and folding his arms across his chest. "Why?" She pouted at him, looking hopelessly desperate.

"Because," she whined, dropping to sit on his bed, "the only way I can get a divorce by French law is if one of us were unfaithful. And I know he hasn't been…" She looked up at him apologetically, which he'd learned by now to actually trust. He knew she wasn't sorry for coming up with the plan; she was just sorry he had to get involved. "And I figured," she continued, "since we already had sex a bunch of times, if they questioned you, you wouldn't need to lie. Not that the lawyers would ask anything that personal, but Henri-Michel has boundary issues, so I'm pretty sure he would…"

"Taylor," he interrupted and she paused, giving him that hopeful look again. "Fine, I'll do it, but you owe me." He bent down and signed his name, handing her the papers when he was done. She gave him a dazzling smile, throwing her arms around him again and hugging him so tightly he couldn't breathe.

"Anything," she breathed when she let go, smile still stretching her mouth wide. He remembered what that mouth had done to him and his cock stirred a little in his pants. She gave him one last smile before disappearing out the door.

Ryan sighed, looking down at his right hand.

She breezed into his room the minute he opened the door and he sighed. "Taylor."

"Good morning, Ryan!" she grinned broadly at him, clasping her hands in front of her. "I know I already owe you, but I was wondering if you would do me one, last, tiny favor…"

"Marry another Frenchman, and now you need me to sign a paper saying we had sex fifty times?" He dropped onto his bed, leaning back against the wall lazily. She giggled, face scrunching up into that dorkish expression he rarely got to see. Actually, that anyone rarely got to see.

"Actually… I was wondering if I could maybe stay here." She gave him an innocent smile, biting her lip and clasping her hands together in a pleading gesture.

"Stay here?" He shifted a little, sitting up straighter.

"Well, mother was angry that I got married and she kicked me out. Summer's off at Brown and I can't keep living under Seth's bed…"

"Wait," he interrupted, pushing himself up totally straight. "You're living under Seth's bed?" She nodded.

How did he not know about this? It seemed like the kind of thing Seth would mention. You know, 'yeah, work's going good, I'm good, Sandy and Kirsten are good, oh and Taylor Townsend's been living under my bed since her mom kicked her out for marrying some French guy...'

"And it's not that I don't appreciate it, but Seth moves a lot in his sleep, and it gets kind of annoying." She sighed, beginning to pace. "Actually, I've been sneaking down to the pool house to sleep for the past week or so, after Sandy and Kirsten go to bed."

"Why don't you just tell the Cohens? I'm sure they'd be perfectly happy to let you stay in the guest bedroom, or, since you've apparently made yourself comfortable, the pool house." He watched her pace, watched her chew on her thumbnail as her expression became a little less happy.

"I don't want anyone else to know, Ryan. It's so embarrassing! Only you know the real reason. I told Seth my mother just kicked me out because she's a horrible person. And I mentioned to Summer that I was married, but she doesn't know all of it, and Ryan," she whimpered, "it's just for a little. Just until I… get a job? And then I can save up enough to get my own place, but I need somewhere to stay, and Seth'll be going to Rhode Island in a few months, plus, I don't think Summer would be too happy with me living under his bed…"

"Taylor." She stopped pacing, startled, and looked at him.

"Sorry," she sighed and he laughed.

"Look, I'd like to help you, but you can't stay here. I have a roommate, remember? Plus, I think the school would frown upon a third roommate that doesn't pay for room and board."

"Right," she frowned and maybe it was because he had this whole hero-complex thing, or maybe it was because college life had gotten pretty dull – after three years of constant drama, the lack of it was oddly unnerving – but he decided to just say fuck it.

"Look, you can stay here for tonight – maybe the weekend, if Ed's ok with it."

Ed was – like the rest of his college experience – boring. He'd expected, with his luck, to get a roommate like Seth – a constantly talking bowl of sarcasm. Although, now that he thought about it, the Atwood luck did strike, because a Seth-like roommate would've been familiar and comfortable. Ed was boring and it put Ryan on edge. He liked people that talked, because he didn't. He was good at listening, so having a roommate that didn't say anything made for a lot of uncomfortable silences.

"Thank you!" she squealed, clapping her hands and jumping up and down in excitement. Well, at least the uncomfortable silence thing would be gone for a couple days. And maybe, if Ed went home for the weekend, maybe he could get Taylor to show him what kind of lingerie she was wearing now.

"So remember how I said you owed me for signing that thing?" She nodded, "and now you owe me for letting you stay here."

"Right," she looked serious, "and I said anything. Oh! I learned how to bake in Paris-"

"Taylor…"

"-well, maybe not so much bake, but I can make a mean torte-"

"Taylor." His voice rose enough to stop her ramble and she looked startled. He was starting to notice that she went into her own world when she talked. Anyway, that was beside the point. "I don't want you to bake for me."

"Oh," she actually looked upset and he laughed. "I guess I could try and cook, but that was kind of a wreck because I didn't cook the chicken all the way through and my instructor got food poisoning…"

"Taylor." He waited until she shut up and looked at him. "I was kinda hoping for a different kind of favor."

"Oh. Oh!" recognition sprang to her face and she grinned broadly before settling into a definite smirk. "What exactly did you have in mind?" She took a step towards him, hips swaying – more than natural, but it definitely pulled his attention. "I know you always liked me on my knees…"

Ryan shifted on his bed, smiling, because he'd actually missed this. He'd really only hung out with Taylor Townsend for a couple months, but he'd become quite attached to her bluntness, her unrelenting enthusiasm. And now – because of the little prom incident and all that followed – he also saw the other side of her. He got to see her for the sexpot she was.

Yeah, he was definitely liking this girl.

And as much as he'd love to have Taylor's mouth on him again… "Actually, I kinda just want to fuck you." Ok, obviously she was rubbing off on him, because he didn't think he'd ever been that blunt, that blasé, about it before. Even back in Chino he'd been a little more subtle, because even girls in Chino tried to pretend like they had a little more chastity than that.

"Sure." She really was a piece of work, wasn't she? Especially because she was taking off her clothes, which was quite nice. And it was the same deal as it always was – she took off her clothes and folded them, setting them on the seat of his desk chair before turning to him.

"Hair down," he grunted, shifting again because his pants were getting a little tight. He watched her hands lift up to the clip holding her hair back before she suddenly paused.

"Wow," she smiled – actually, it was closer to a smirk – "Ryan Atwood knows what he wants." He just grinned.

"Yeah, it's something I've been trying out." She giggled and he shifted – yet again – as she took the clip out and her hair tumbled down over her shoulders. The bed dipped slightly as she got on, straddling his hips and running her hands down his chest.

"I like the new you," she murmured, looking thoughtful. Which wasn't quite how he wanted her to look – he preferred something like incredibly turned on, or about to come. "You were always so quiet in high school. Even the summer."

"Well, I think Seth did enough talking for the both of us," he shrugged. And there was that laugh, where she scrunched up her face and snorted a little, which must really be infectious, because he started to grin too.

"And you're funny now?" Her face settled back into a serious expression and she looked thoughtful again. "I don't think I've ever seen you this… open. College has been good to you."

"It's cause I actually belong here. I never belonged in Newport. That wasn't my world, I was just lucky," he sighed, "I think for the first time in my life I feel like I belong."

"That must be nice."

It was amazing – well, maybe amazing was the wrong word, more like a little scary – how she seemed to deflate: she sunk back on her knees, shoulders hunching as she curled into herself. And that's when he remembered who he was dealing with. He used to think she was on top of the world, back in high school. Even when he got to know her better – even when he got to know her better – he always thought she was perfectly happy with her plot in life. He thought she was unbreakable.

And even when she came back from Paris nearly a month ago, asking for his help, she hadn't batted an eyelash at her situation. It wasn't until now that he noticed how lonely she must be. Her mother kicked her out, her best friend was on the other side of the country, she didn't have a job, she didn't go to school. She spent her days hiding under Seth Cohen's bed and her nights in the pool house, most likely staring at the ceiling, trying to sleep, like he used to do.

He sighed, placing his hands on her hips and lifting her gently off his lap. She opened her mouth in confusion, but he didn't let her speak. "We don't have to do this. We could just talk, if you want." The offer was sincere – a little disappointing that he wasn't getting laid, but sincere nonetheless. It's not like he wasn't used to sacrificing sex for talking – his past girlfriends had kept him quite trained in that department.

Not that Taylor was his girlfriend.

She was just barely his friend, but he decided, off the stunned look on her face, that he'd try harder to get to know her – in the two months they spent having sex, they'd rarely actually talked. But he wanted to get to know her now, because from what he'd seen so far, she wasn't too bad. Although maybe that was his dick talking.

"You… want to talk?" she folded her arms over her stomach, looking confused and slightly hurt. She got off the bed and grabbed one of his t-shirts that was hanging off a chair, pulling it over her head. "Why?"

He shifted again, because, despite his resignation on the not getting laid topic, he was still hard and she looked so hot in his shirt. "Because. You just got a divorce, your mom kicked you out. You're probably really vulnerable right now-" Her loud sigh interrupted him, and he looked up to see her glaring at him.

"I forgot about your little hero complex," she grumbled. "Ryan, I'm not vulnerable. And even if I was, I'm not stupid, or naïve. I'm also really, really, horny, and you're really hot. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

"Yeah, I get it but…"

"Right," she dropped her head and turned to her pile of clothes and he felt himself sigh.

You know what, screw chivalry.

Why did he need to be chivalrous anyway? She wasn't married anymore, they'd already had sex.

A lot.

Ok, so it'd been four months since she left for Paris, and he'd only seen her one other time since she got back – that time he'd signed the papers for her – but she seemed perfectly willing and he was definitely willing.

He stood up and moved over to her, grabbing her hips and spinning her around. He leaned forward and kissed her, letting his hand cup her cheek. She seemed surprised by the move because her own hand came up to grab his wrist – like she couldn't believe he was being so gentle. To be fair, though, he was rarely gentle with her. But there was a nagging guilt in the back of his head, whether for taking advantage of her or making her all depressed, he didn't know.

"Ryan?" She looked confused when he pulled away and he shrugged, stepping back slightly and pulling his shirt off. Her eyes drifted down as his hands pulled at his belt and she stepped into him, her hands joining his and he let her take over the task of getting his pants open.

Watching her fumble with the button of his jeans gave him a thrill and he let his head tilt back and his eyes close as she pulled the zipper down and he was surprised how much he wanted this.

It wasn't like he hadn't been laid since her or anything – there was that girl from the coffee stand and the one from his English Comp class that he'd fucked a couple times.

She'd broken it off with him after the fourth time and he never figured out what had happened. All he knew was they'd been fucking and she came and then he came, and as he was coming down, she'd shoved him off roughly, called him an ass, got dressed, and left the room. That Monday, in class, he'd asked her what the hell he'd done, and she'd given him this look, like she couldn't believe he didn't know.

She was acting like that one girl, back in Chino, when he'd called her by the wrong name during.

It didn't matter now, because Taylor had gotten his pants open and pushed them down to the floor. She moaned lightly and gave him a smoldering look before wrapping her hand around the base of his cock and pumping him a few times. He licked his lips, but whatever he'd been about to say died in his throat as she gave him a gentle squeeze, eyes flicking up to him.

He grunted and gripped the back of her head as he crushed his lips to hers. Apparently he was over his guilt, because he grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it up, breaking from her mouth for a second as it went over her head. He tossed it to the side – ignoring her protest because he was making a mess – and kissed her again.

She moaned into his mouth as he backed her up to the desk, making his laptop rattle and the pencil holder rock as he pushed her to sit on the edge. She wrapped her legs around his waist and leaned back on her arms as he dragged his lips down her neck.

His hand reached out blindly until his fingers brushed the leather of his wallet that he'd thrown next to his computer after he got back from class. Thank God, too, because he didn't feel like letting go of her to go all the way over to his dresser. The condom was still in there and he pulled it out and backed away from her slightly. She looked disappointed, but she didn't complain, because she was as practical as he was.

So she waited patiently as he tore open the packet and rolled the condom on, eyes staring at her lips the entire time. God, she had such a dirty mouth.

"Thinking about something?" she giggled and his eyes moved back up to hers. He gave her a lopsided smile and shrugged.

"I like your mouth."

She grinned back at him and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "I like yours too." Then her eyes drifted down. "Among other things."

"Among other things," he repeated as he moved forward and slid into her.

He liked her other things, too.

"Yay," she whispered with a smile and bit her lip, letting her head tilt back. He stayed still until she started to shift impatiently. "Ryan," she whined, rolling her hips in that way she had. He let out a low, rumbling laugh and pulled out of her completely. Her head snapped up and she glared at him. "Not what I meant," she scolded.

He just gave her a smile and rested his hand on her hip as he pushed back in. He repeated the process a few more times, pulling out completely before thrusting back in, each time doing it harder until he had her gasping his name.

"Shit, Ryan," she moaned, eyes locking on his as he pulled out. She shifted a little, spreading her hands out a little behind her. She moaned again when he pulled her left leg from his waist to rest on his shoulder before thrusting back in, and this time even he gasped at the friction. "Oh God," she whispered, shaking her head slowly back and forth, "I think you're trying to kill me."

"Not kill you," he rasped, turning his head to press a kiss to her calf. "Definitely don't wanna do that." She whimpered as he started to fuck her again – really fuck her, this time. There was no way he was pulling out anymore – he didn't think it was even physically possible. "If you're dead, I can't fuck you anymore."

She giggled brokenly and her throat convulsed as she swallowed hard. "Not unless you have some serious issues," she mumbled, apparently oblivious to what she was saying. He shook his head – leave it to Taylor Townsend to make that joke during sex. That was such a Seth joke and – no. This, right here, with Taylor – in Taylor – was a sacred place and he was not going to think about Seth.

"Don't make jokes," he told her, shutting his eyes tightly to wipe out the idea of Seth.

"Remind you of Seth?" she giggled again and he groaned.

"How the fuck do you do that?" He opened his eyes again and the sight of her naked with her eyes dark and dilated did a much better job of banishing Seth from his mind.

"I'm psychic," she lied. Then she dropped back to her elbows and he noticed for the first time that her arms were shaking.

"Hold on," he murmured, leaning forward – they both let out little moans at the change of angle – and pushing some of his papers and the laptop out of the way. "Ok, you can lay down now." She sighed gratefully and lay back all the way.

He rested one hand on her hip, the other smoothing up and down her leg as he pumped into her, trying to concentrate on the way she felt, the way she looked, the way she sounded.

She was exactly like he remembered – exactly like she was in his dreams – and he couldn't believe it'd been nearly four months since they last did this. He couldn't believe she'd been married since then. The hand on her leg tightened a little and his other moved from her waist to where they were joined.

"Mon dieu!" she cried out, back arching as he pressed his thumb against her clit and rubbed slowly. "Oh Jesus Christ, Ryan," she panted, hands moving over the desk to try and find something to grab on to as she came.

He shut his eyes and turned to rest his forehead against her calf, reveling in the feel of her. He wanted to say something but he didn't trust his voice, so he focused instead on memorizing everything about her. Just in case they didn't get to do this again and he was just left with his fantasies again.

"Ryan?" Her voice brought him back and he opened his eyes and looked at her. "Did you want to keep going?" What? He noticed then that he'd stilled his hips as she rode out her orgasm. "Or did you want me to finish you off?" She sat up, lowered her leg from his shoulder, and pushed him back slightly. Cold air hit him and he hissed in pain when he slid out of her.

"Shit Taylor," he protested, even as she slid off the desk to her knees. Her hands were warm, though, as she pulled off the condom and stroked him and her mouth was hot when she sucked him in. It didn't take long for her hot little mouth to send him over the edge and his hands tangled in her hair as he came. Her throat convulsed around him as she swallowed and he tried to remember how to breathe.

She stood finally, knees almost giving out but he caught her and sat her down on the edge of the desk again. Then he moved forward and wrapped his arms around her waist and bent his head to kiss the spot right below her ear.

"Shit," he mumbled into her neck. She made a little noise of agreement.

"Much better," she murmured back, her hands sliding up his back, resting on his shoulder blades.

"What?" he groaned, pulling back a little to see his face. She giggled and grinned at him.

"Henri-Michel was dull," she explained, stretching her arms above her head. "I mean, he wasn't bad, but you're much better."

"Thanks, I guess," he muttered, backing away and feeling his shoulders tighten a little. Which was strange – he should be totally relaxed after an orgasm like that. He wondered if he should return the compliment – tell her that the Berkeley girls had nothing on her – or if it would just sound fake. Like he was only saying it because she did.

"I'm really glad I left," she went on, like she hadn't heard him. When he looked over at her, she was staring up at the ceiling intently, head tilted back, brows furrowed in concentration. "I hated it there." Again, he wondered if she even realized she was talking. He'd forgotten that particular quirk of hers. It was kind of adorable, actually.

"So what're you gonna do now?" he asked. She shrugged, the light in her eyes dimming a little.

"Get a job? I can't keep crashing here or at Seth's…"

"You're not going back to school?"

She shrugged again, getting off the desk. "Where would I go? Back to the Sorbonne? Go stalk Seth and Summer in Rhode Island?"

"You could go here," he suggested, turning away from her to pick up his boxers. "I mean, if you want to."

"You're ok with that?" she pulled his t-shirt over her head again and tilted her head a bit. He licked his lips and took a deep breath.

He just wanted the tightness in his shoulders to go away.

"Yeah, it'd be ok. If you do stay, maybe we could hang out or something? Like we used to?"

"Oh. Yeah, of course." He flicked his eyes over to catch her attempt at a smile. He sighed.

"Not like that," he protested, but it didn't come out like he wanted. "I mean, yeah, like that, but not just that… I'm explaining this wrong."

"You want to have sex but you don't?"

He sighed again and lifted his hand to run it through his hair. "I mean, we should do what we were doing before, but just… like, tell people."

"Like date?" The word made him flinch, but he nodded. "Wow." She sat down on his bed and looked thoughtful.

"I mean, if you want to." He felt his heart speed up a bit when she stayed silent, the tightness in his shoulders making his head start to ache.

"It's about time."

"What?"

She sighed, looking down at the floor. "I've been waiting for you to ask me out for… like, forever."

"What?"

He heard her snort in amusement as she picked at the hem of the shirt she was wearing, but she didn't look at him. "Well," she started slowly, "I've kind of had this… thing for you for a while."

"How long?"

Well that he hadn't been expecting. She'd never shown any interest… ok, so they'd had sex a lot, but other than that, she'd never given him any reason to think she wanted something more. She'd sure as hell never said anything.

"Um… since I got over my weird little Seth crush?"

"What?" That had been almost a year ago. She'd had a thing for him for a fucking year?

She huffed in annoyance and looked up at him. "See, this is why I didn't say anything before. I knew you'd freak out."

"I'm not freaking out," he protested, bringing his hand to the back of his neck and trying to work out the tension.

"Yes, you are."

"So, at prom…"

"Prom wasn't planned, if that's what you're thinking," she reached out and pulled him to the bed, sitting him down. Then she got to her knees on the mattress and moved behind him. Her hands pushed his away and she started to work the muscles in his shoulders. "It just happened. But yeah, I liked you."

"And the second time…"

"Well, that was kind of planned. I didn't say anything after prom, cause I didn't want you to freak out. But when you showed you were still interested…"

"Shit," he muttered, dropping his head forward and closing his eyes. "You let me fuck you for three months and you never said anything? Why?"

"Cause," he felt her shrug and her voice dropped an octave. "Sleeping with you in secret was better than just being 'friends'."

He didn't say anything, because he wasn't sure what to say. He wished she'd said something, cause now he felt like an idiot.

He also felt like an ass.

He leaned forward, breaking away from her hands, before turning around. She looked confused for a second, until he slid his arms around her waist and pulled her into him. "I'm sorry," he murmured into her hair. She shrugged again, a little dejectedly and he felt his gut twist when he remembered how used to rejection she was. Shit. "I'll make it up to you," he kissed her head, then her neck, her jaw, moving up to her lips.

"You don't have to…"

"No," he mumbled against her lips, "but I want to." He leaned forward, pressing her into the mattress. "Cause 'making it up to you' sounds really fun…" his hand slid up her leg, coming to rest on her hip.

"You don't have to do anything," she protested again.

He ignored her, because he really was too busy thinking – and running his hand over her hip. How could he not have seen it? The fake enthusiasm every time she agreed it was cool that they didn't tell everyone. And her uncanny ability to read him? She wasn't psychic, she just fucking paid attention to him.

She'd been the perfect girlfriend and he hadn't seen it.

He kissed her, trying to apologize for being such an idiot. He knew he was. She knew he was – although she apparently wouldn't admit it.

Oh God, everyone was going to tell him he was an idiot when they found out.

Summer would kill him for treating Taylor like that. Marissa would roll her eyes, Seth would… fuck, Seth would have a field day with this.

"Can we tell everyone but Seth?" he asked, breaking away from her. It took her a moment to realize what he was talking about, but she started to giggle when she did.

"I think he'll find out, somehow," she reminded him.

"You may want to lay low for a while," he mused. "Once everyone finds out, they're gonna be all over you. Sandy and Kirsten'll want to invite us for dinner, Seth'll be demanding details, Summer'll be pissed we didn't tell her earlier…"

She shrugged. "I think I can handle it…"

"But I don't know if I can," he explained, leaning down to kiss her neck. "Cause they'll want to talk to you all the time, and I think we can come up with a better use of your time…"

She let out a breathless oh, and he couldn't help but grin at how happy she sounded.

"Now," he continued, "let's get back to the issue of me repaying you…"

She giggled as he moved down her body and for the first time since she'd shown up again, he felt completely at ease. Maybe having Taylor Townsend as a girlfriend wouldn't be as world-shaking as he thought it'd be. Maybe everything would be ok. He looked up at her and found her biting her lip, watching him, and he smiled.

All in all, college hadn't been so bad.

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