Because we miss the sexy in our Thursdays. Between The Lonely Hearts Club and The Second Chance. Doesn't really matter. Enjoy.

Hands. Both of them warm. Warm against cool skin. Two others touching his shoulders. Grasping shoulders. Holding on for balance to shoulders.

Legs. Two of them around his waist as he tried to keep the legs from falling to the floor. Finding hard. Going to fall down. Saved by the hard, coal plaster painted a sickening color of green. He would always love it from now on. Ow. Hard. Cold. Small. Doorknob. He shifted to the side, pulling the girl attached to his waist with him.

Finally ripping his mouth away from hers, Seth gasped for breath. He was unable to produce coherent thoughts. He had been for the past seven minutes and thirty-four seconds. Ever since Summer had touched him. Ever since he had felt the soft, slightly dry hand slip into his from behind and pull as hard as humanly possible. And he hadn't even thought of any possible consequence. Like someone seeing. It wouldn't be hard to figure out what was going on if Summer Roberts was seen pulling Seth Cohen into a janitor's closet. It wouldn't be hard to tell her boyfriend. But that would be bad. Very bad. But this was good. At least he knew that.

She was staring at him, her chest moving with the puffs of air he felt on his neck. There was question in her eyes, but no doubt.

"We can't do this...here." He dropped his hands to his sides, and she slid her legs down.

"You're right. Of course you're right. I'm late for sixth period."

"Right."

"But somewhere else. At some other time. Maybe."

"Maybe."

"Maybe at my house at four."

"Make it five."

"Five's okay. But we'd have to be done by six thirty."

"I think there's a very good chance of that happening."

She smiled. She laughed. "Yeah..."

His cheeks flushed, so he just buried his face into the top of her head. He could touch her again. And he didn't even know why. But he wasn't about to question it. Not now. He couldn't now. Because her face was in his chest, and her hands were fitting so well in with the fabric around his waist. He couldn't disrupt that. After all, it was Summer Roberts. So, he guessed, for now, it was okay.

"So, I'll see you...later, Cohen." She looked up and kissed his lips for another second, just long enough to make him dizzy again. Then she took it away as the door thudded softly behind him. And Seth had no idea how he would ever get through French until the day was over.

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But that didn't make it any better. He had one and half hours at home. Sitting. Standing. Eating. Sitting. The blood was rushing in his head fast enough to make him blind. This was going to kill him. He was sure this was going to kill him. He was going to die before he got to feel the skin, lips, and hair that he couldn't get out of his mind. He wasn't even nearly as nervous as he should've been. This was Summer. He had to be perfect for Summer. Alex never seemed to mind a few rough fumblings that he really just did to pass the time. But everything had to be perfect for Summer. But the only thing Seth could think of was how long it would take to get to her house, to her room, to her bed. Because he was going insane.

Four twenty-three. That had to be close enough. Seth grabbed a sweatshirt and pulled it over his head.

"Hey, Mom, I've got something to take care of. I'll be back by seven."

"Where are you going, honey?"

"To a friend's."

"Which friend?"

"Zach's." And he felt guilty the second after he said it. It set in that what he was doing was wrong. He was lying, and he was helping his friend's girlfriend cheat on him. He would've felt a lot worse if it had been anyone but Summer.

It was four thirty when he got to her house. He was early. But he couldn't drive around her block for half an hour. That would really drive him mad. So early would have to do.

He knocked on the door once. He heard a voice say something, but he couldn't really distinguish any of the words. A few seconds later, though, the door opened and a very out of breath Summer was in front of him. She was in a bathrobe, and her hair was wet. A towel lay in her hands. He was early.

"Cohen! What are you...I thought you said five."

"I did."

"Oh. And now it's..."

"Four something."

"Oh. Okay. I was going to..." This time it was her cheeks that immediately flashed red. "...get ready. Um, you can't...come in." She held the door open, and he nodded.

"Uh, if you want, I can go and come back later."

"No, that would be stupid. This is fine."

She bent over forward, letting the water drip out of her hair, running the towel around it. And as she stood up straight again, flecks of water grazed his cheek.

"Um, so, do you want to come...up-upstairs?"

"Uh, yeah. But-but Summer, are you sure about this? Because it really is up to you."

"I know. I am. I mean, I am."

"Because you are with Zach, and..."

"Is this too weird for you?"

"No. I mean, no, it's fine with me. I just...I'm worried about you. This isn't something...you'd want to do."

"But I do. I really want to...do this."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded and pulled her lips inside her mouth. He let out a long breath.

"Okay."

"Okay." She nodded again and stepped forward. "Um, if you want, I can...dry my hair."

"It's fine."

"Okay." She looked up at him, his eyes boring holes in hers. She leaned slightly upward and grazed his lips with hers. Again. The third one was deeper. The towel in her hands dropped to the ground as those hands came back to his neck. He closed his eyes and did his best to try to remember what it felt like. He tried hard to remember how perfect this was.

She dropped her hands from his neck and held both his hands in hers. She pulled him up the stairs without taking those lips away from his. And then he was in the pink room. The Summer room. The center of every one of his dreams for the past three weeks. But while he had been taking in the room, Summer had been pushing him backwards onto the Summer bed. He opened his eyes and noticed how badly they mismatched. She was in a dark blue, silk bathrobe, her hair knotty and crunchy around his shoulders, and he was in a stupid sweatshirt with a Berkeley logo on the front. And his Chuck Taylor's still on. But Summer made it better. She always knew how to make it better. She rolled them over, even though they were still lying sideways on her bed, and yanked the stupid sweatshirt over his head.

His tee shirt was thin. Thin and white. He could see where her wet hair had touched his chest. The sweatshirt was nearly soaking, lying at the foot of her bed. She didn't notice the wet clothes touching her satin covers. She just knew his lips and mouth and hair and hands. And the thing that she could feel through his jeans.

He pulled slowly away for air, studying her face that he finally noticed was without make-up. She had a slightly strange look on her face, and she lifted slightly, pushing a hand under her back. She pulled out a black, leather skirt, Seth recognized it as the one he had drawn her in, a black bra, and a white button down. Her cheeks were on fire now.

"What's that?"

"Nothing. It's just...nothing." He looked at her for another second, and she sighed. "It was just what I was going to change into."

"Oh. I'm sorry I was early."

"No, it's really okay. I'm just...stupid."

Seth shook his head and caught a smoking curling iron in the corner of his eye.

"You might, uh, want to turn that off."

Summer spun her head to look at the smoke and stuttered, "Oh. Yeah."

She slid out from underneath him and flicked the switch on the curling iron. Her cheeks were about to explode. "Sorry about that."

"It's okay."

She walked back over and sat on the bed next to him. He turned his head to look at her, and she did the same. Slowly, they inched their faces forwards, catching each other's lips. Summer got up onto her knees, cupping his face in her hands. Seth slid over so his chest was as close to her waist as was possible with her still kissing him. He ran his hands up her silky robe and up through her unbrushed hair. She gripped the shoulders of his tee shirt and pulled it up over his head. She gave him the smallest smile and fell backwards.

Seth followed her, holding himself up with an arm. Carefully, he found the tie to her robe and slipped one of his hands inside. Her skin was warm. Very warm. Her eyes closed as he glided his hand up and down her stomach and for a second over a breast. She let out the smallest sound, but when he tried to hear it, she was pulling at his belt. He held a hand over hers, shaking his head slightly. He went back to the opening of her robe, finally pulling it over.

"Holy shit." His eyes scanned up and down her body that seemed to have gotten smaller since the last time he had seen it. He could see more ribs, and the small bump below her bellybutton was nearly gone. Zach had let her get too skinny. Seth never would have. Seth was a big believer in ice cream, Chinese food, and cakes and cookies at every possible second. Summer had used to always complain, but he knew she loved the excuse.

He heard a small giggle and realized he had been staring at her for over a minute.

"Sorry," he mumbled and leaned back down to kiss her. Hard. Her hands went straight to his belt, and this time he didn't stop her from pulling it open and moving on to the zipper of his jeans.

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It was bad that it was so good. Seth knew it was bad. But that wasn't half the reason it had been so good. People said it always made it better to feel dangerous, but Seth knew it was just Summer. Summer could make anything mind-blowing. He pulled her closer against his chest, her wet hair nearly all dry and looking horribly, sexily messy. She sighed into his neck, and he smiled. It was really her. He glanced over at the clock. Six. He couldn't stay here forever. Just a few...more...minutes.

He looked past her hair to the nightstand behind her. Pictures of Marissa with huge smiles on her face in front of the palace, a book about world history, a picture of Zach. He was smiling at Seth. Seemingly taunting him. Telling him that no matter how good this felt right now, it couldn't be like this forever. Telling him that the reason he had to be gone by six-thirty was probably because Zach would be coming over. Coming over to take away his Summer. There was a letter beside the picture. Probably something about how much he loved Seth's Summer.

Suddenly, he wasn't so ready to let Summer lie on top of him forever. He sat up abruptly and started collecting clothes from around the room.

"What's wrong?" Summer sat up, her hair looking like she had slept in it.

"Nothing. I should go; Zach should be here soon."

"What makes you think Zach's coming?"

"Why else couldn't I be here?"

"My dad."

"Is it about your dad?" Seth looked up from the button of his jeans. Summer looked away. "Yeah." He grabbed his belt from its spot draped at the footboard of the bed.

"I'm sorry." He looked up again at the big brown eyes that were about to burst.

"Yeah, well, me too."

"Not about this though. Not at all. About him."

"Do you love him?"

She looked down to the comforter covering her. "I don't know."

"Okay, well, I mean, that's your business. But if you ever...you know, find an answer, and if that answer's no, I mean, you know where to find me."

She nodded, watching him grab his sweatshirt off her bed. He looked back at her and waved halfway. She smiled and waved back. He grinned as he walked out of her bedroom.

When Zach got there, he parked himself on the floor in front of the bed for the rest of their The Valley marathon. Summer sat next to him in a big tee shirt and pair of jeans. She pressed play and leaned back against her bed.

"Something wrong?" She saw him looking at her from the corner of her eye.

"No. Nothing."

He nodded, then furrowed his brow. "Is that yours?"

She turned around to see a slightly damp white tee shirt. "Oh. Yeah."

"Why is it wet?"

"Um, I took a shower earlier. From my hair."

"Okay."

Zach accepted everything. He had too much faith in her. He never thought she'd lie to him. That's why it hurt so much. But it was Seth Cohen, so she guessed that, for now, it was okay.