Beth stumbled into her room and shoved the door shut behind her. What just happened? she thought, and dumped her stuff on the floor. She felt cold and nauseated, and she couldn't stop shaking. But all she remembered was her wrist in Greg's hand, the unexpected gentleness of his touch. He had lean fingers with callused pads—a musician's hand, much like her own.

She sat on her bed and looked out the window, a bit surprised to see sunlight bright on scarlet maple leaves. I can't do this. She'd felt an attraction from the start and fought it; it was hopeless, he'd never be interested in someone like her. But she wasn't some specimen for him to study either . . . and yet he'd maneuvered her into giving him the truth about what had happened, something she'd vowed never to do. Slowly she lay down and closed her eyes. Greg's face rose up before her—bony, strong features just short of handsome under a shock of chestnut curls, his intense blue eyes bright with amused curiosity. He could outthink her a thousand ways from Sunday and leave her bleeding from a few careless words, but far worse, he would destroy the defenses she'd crafted to get through school, and that would lead to nothing but disaster.

What do I do? Her heart clenched in helpless dread. She was not ready for this—she'd never be ready. Keeping people at arm's length had made continued living possible. One more year after this one and she'd be out on her own, able to make decisions without interference . . . The fact that she was lonely, that she missed casual contact and time spent with friends, was just the price of her choice. But how long can I keep paying it? And why should I be the one to pay? What happened wasn't my fault . . . She closed her eyes, weary now of the thoughts chasing around in her head, and hoped sleep would take her away for a while. The last thing she wanted was to remember . . . Slowly she drifted into an uneasy doze.

Beth woke on the memory of Jacob's laugh. She opened her eyes to semi-darkness; the afternoon was already drawing down to dusk. Muted talk and laughter rose from the lawn outside as people came in from classes, ready for the weekend rounds of parties. After a time she eased herself upright and glanced at the alarm clock. Nearly five—Greg had said he'd come over by seven. She had some time to study then. No way would she dress up or do anything special. This was not a date. It wasn't even a casual interaction, more like an interview. Or an interrogation, she thought, and went off to use the bathroom.

He was an hour late, and when she opened the door to his knock a distinct reek of beer greeted her. But he'd brought a pizza and a Coke, a thoughtful gesture she hadn't expected. In silence she stepped back from the door to allow him access, an act she found difficult. He watched her, his vivid gaze intent. He said nothing though, just set the pizza on her desk and handed her the Coke before he claimed her only chair. He crossed his long legs, tipped the chair back and held out his hand. When she stared at him he wriggled his fingers in an impatient gimme gesture. "Two slices."

She discovered paper plates inside the box, so she took two of the bigger pieces, placed them on a plate and offered them, then checked the bottle of Coke. The cap hadn't been removed and replaced; presumably it was safe to drink. She searched in her desk drawer for an opener, only to have the bottle taken from her. Greg popped the cap on the edge of the desk and handed it back. Beth noted he'd already eaten most of one slice. Without comment she held out her hand for his plate, and gave him another one before she took one for herself. The pie was loaded with sausage, pepperoni and bacon as well as extra cheese—okay for someone with a fast metabolism, but she'd have to be careful.

"You listen to rock?" Greg glanced at the stereo. She'd tuned it to one of the local stations, more for background noise than anything else.

"Classical's my day job." She nibbled at her pizza. Even room temperature it wasn't bad. She suspected he'd boosted it from a frat party but that was his business and none of hers.

"Huh. Not a snob, then." He took a huge bite from the third slice and barely bothered to chew. There was a restless energy in him that fascinated her. It was as if he had an overloaded live wire burning deep within. "So talk." Her throat closed up. She set down the slice and stared at it. "Come on, don't chicken out." Greg sat up. "You agreed to this—"

"Give me a minute!" She snapped the words out before thinking. "I know what I agreed to!" She put the plate on the desk and took a big swig of Coke, felt the carbonation burn her throat. It cleared away her panic at least. "Okay, well . . . I don't know how much you want to know."

"All of it." He watched her with those diamond-bright eyes. "Start from the beginning."

She passed a hand over her face. "Are you sure-?"

"Yes." He tossed the empty plate onto the desk and leaned back, arms behind his head. Beth nodded.

"All right." She gathered her thoughts and pushed away fear. This was it, and she'd chosen to go ahead. She was a fool to trust him and yet he was right, she had to tell someone and she had no one else. "But—but first I want an equal exchange."

Silence greeted this statement. When she lifted her gaze, Greg had gone still.

"Equal exchange." He sounded odd. Beth nodded.

"Yes."

He swallowed. "You never said anything before."

"I didn't think of it. Now I have." She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt. "Take it or leave it."

He continued to stare at her. "You really like your ultimatums."

"It's not an ultimatum. It's fair." She sipped her Coke and jumped when he laughed, a harsh bark that sounded loud in the small room.

"Fair is bullshit." He got up and paced to the door. "Forget it."

"Coward." The word slipped out before she could stop it. He paused, turned to glare at her.

"Fuck you." He lunged forward. She bolted from the chair, but he only picked up the pizza box, shot her a contemptuous look and stalked out of the room. The slam of the door made the floor shake.

Beth didn't see him again for almost a week. She was no longer stalked or pestered, but Greg's absence bothered her in a way she hadn't expected. She found she was worried about him. When she'd issued her challenge he'd looked scared under the anger.

Don't be stupid, she told herself at every turn. He knows how to take care of himself. And yet she considered going over to the frat house to check on him, an idea so foolish she flinched every time it entered her mind.

The weekend came around again. Beth enjoyed Saturdays; the dorm was mostly empty on game day during football season, so she could accomplish her few household chores in relative peace. She gathered up her laundry, soap and a book, and headed down to the basement.

Both loads were in the dryers when someone entered the laundry room. Beth looked up and froze in surprise. Greg moved past her to the folding table and perched on it. He lifted his gaze to hers but said nothing. She set aside her book. They sat in silence for a few moments.

"Still want that deal?" His voice was harsh. Beth studied him.

"Yes." She wasn't sure that was true, but her intuition told her to proceed.

He looked away. "You go first."

"No way."

He almost smiled. "Impasse."

"How about a tradeoff?" Beth got up to take clothes out of the dryer. "I'll tell you something, you tell me something. If either one of us backs out, that ends the deal."

Greg swung his long legs as he considered it at length. She had almost all of the second load folded when he finally spoke. "'kay. You first."

She sighed. "Yeah, all right." With care she put her favorite sweater in the laundry basket. "My parents . . . my parents wanted me to major in performance. I decided on music education-"

"Already figured that out. Try again."

Beth shook her head. "Let me finish." She took a deep breath to steady herself. "I've always wanted to teach. Performance . . . you need to be really ambitious. Cut-throat, no holds barred. There's a lot of competition out there, to say the least. I'm not built that way. But—but there's another reason." All her spit dried up on the last word. Just say it, she thought. Just say it. She swallowed and pushed on. "A few years ago, at music camp . . . someone . . ." She struggled to continue and couldn't.

"Someone what? Stole your music? Played a wrong note? Broke a string?"

"He raped me." Her stomach clenched. It was out now, no taking it back. She couldn't bear to see the look on Greg's face, the disgust—Without another word she picked up the laundry basket and fled.

("It's my word against yours. Do you really think anyone will believe you?" Jacob glanced at her, amused. "If you need an abortion that can be set up. Your parents probably aren't ready for a grandkid, especially if it looks like you.")

Beth gained her room in record time. She dumped the basket on the bed and went to the door to close and lock it, only to find Greg there. Before she could shut him out he came in.

"You forgot your book." He offered it to her. She took it, her throat dry.

"Th-thanks."

"You also didn't wait for my trade."

That made her look up. He watched her, his vivid gaze steady. "You—you still want to?"

"Not really." He raised his brows. "Hard to top yours, but that's for you to judge."

She saw it then, the edge of unspoken pain and anger in his eyes behind the mocking humor. It had always been there, but she hadn't been able to put a name to it. Now she knew. In silence she nodded. Greg studied her for a few moments before he moved to the chair and sat. She perched on the bed, suddenly aware of the intimate atmosphere.

"You're blushing." He tilted his head. "I won't hurt you."

"I know." To her surprise, it was the truth. "Go ahead with your—your trade."

He exhaled and looked down at his hands. "I'm a military brat," he said after a short silence. "We moved around a lot."

It took Beth a moment to realize he expected her to figure it out. "So, no friends." He made a dismissive gesture. "No permanent home, either." She hesitated, remembered him stealing her practice time for weeks on end, and followed another intuitive lead. "Which meant you couldn't have a piano."

Greg blinked. Then he smiled, and Beth caught her breath. Just for a moment his whole face changed. She saw someone else there, someone she wanted to know. "Yeah."

"So sign up for some time and stop stealing mine."

He chuckled and glanced around the room. "Not a chance. Got anything to eat?"

Beth was surprised to find she was hungry. "No, but we can order a pizza or something, if you like." She hesitated. "There's a tv in the common room, if you—you want to watch something while we eat."

Greg nodded. He got to his feet. "Let's go."

"You're sure about this?" She had to ask.

"About the pizza? Yeah, I'm starving."

"No, I mean—this." She cursed her inability to explain. "The tradeoff. You really want to keep going? After . . . after what I told you?"

He paused with his hand on the door. "Especially after what you told me." His voice was quiet. Beth looked at him, then away.

"Okay."

'Do Nothing', The Specials