"Come on," Nick said, tugging my arm. He dragged me past the plesiosaur and iguanodon skeletons, and unlocked a stairwell. He prodded the elevator button within. When the thing came, it had one of those old iron grilles, which he shoved aside for entry. He pressed me against the back wall of the box and kissed me.

He has lovely hands. Later, when the people making "missing" posters asked for a detailed description of him, I uselessly went on about his perfect hands.

When the lift went ping at the top floor, he stalked out without a word down a long, dingy hallway. I trotted after him. I'd forgotten that he has an office up in Earth Sciences--but of course he would. It's a tiny space, nothing more than books and a coffee maker and a desk and a lock on the door, which is enough. We perched on the desk, our bodies facing forward and our heads to each other, like two kids sharing a soda-fountain float. He pulled my face to his.

I don't think he meant for much more than petting--he doesn't seem like someone who would rush anything. But when he unbuttoned my shirt, I said no. I'm certain I did, but it was kind of muffled in his cheek. So he undid the next button. I shoved his shoulder, hard, and said no again. He was surprised, I think. I was too. I mean, it's fine to say no to anything, but this was abrupt. He leaned in to kiss me again. I don't think he was deliberately ignoring me, I think he was just on a roll. So was I, frankly. I kissed him back, which was disorienting--he had a right to be even more confused. It was all so...

There was this line. I wanted to be on one side of it. I tried to stay there, and haul him back there. But he couldn't see the line. All he knew was that I was still leaning into him. He kissed me all down my neck, and then lower, down into where my shirt was open from the first two buttons. It made me crazy, in a good way, and it made me angry, which was strange. I shoved him so hard he was suddenly standing; I had pushed him off the desk onto his feet. I leaned over the other side of the desk and vomited into his rubbish bin. It had papers in it, not crumpled, just all smooth and rounded, clinging to the side of the basket. I vomited in it, and then over it onto the floor. I kept throwing up for three or four minutes. It was horrible. I was embarrassed, and I'm sure he was.

When I was done I wiped my mouth on my sleeve and pushed past him. In the elevator I buttoned my shirt. Back at Peterhouse I changed my clothes...

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