Chuck’s eyes blinked open at the first touch of Cathryn’s hand but he pretended sleep, keeping his head under his pillow. He knew that if he waited she’d touch him again, only a little more forcibly. And he was right, only this time he felt two hands shake his shoulder before the pillow was lifted. Chuck was eighteen years old and in the middle of his first year at Northeastern University. He wasn’t doing that well and he dreaded his upcoming semester finals. It was going to be a disaster. At least for everything but psychology.

“Fifteen minutes,” said Cathryn. She tousled his long hair. “Your father wants to get to the lab early.”

“Shit,” said Chuck under his breath.

“Charles, Jr.!” said Cathryn, pretending to be shocked.

“I’m not getting up.” Chuck grabbed the pillow from Cathryn’s hands and buried himself.

“Oh, yes you are,” said Cathryn, as she yanked the covers back.

Chuck’s body, clad only in his undershorts, was exposed to the morning chill. He leaped up, pulling the blankets around him. “I told you never to do that,” he snapped.

“And I told you to leave your locker-room language in the locker room,” said Cathryn, ignoring the nastiness in Chuck’s voice. “Fifteen minutes!”

Cathryn spun on her heel and walked out. Chuck’s face flushed in frustration. He watched her go down the hall to Michelle’s room. She was wearing an antique silk nightgown that she’d bought at a flea market. It was a deep peach color, not too different from her skin. With very little difficulty, Chuck could imagine Cathryn naked. She wasn’t old enough to be his mother.

He reached out, hooked his hand around the edge of his door, and slammed it. Just because his father liked to get to his lab before eight, Chuck had to get up at the crack of dawn like some goddamn farmer. The big deal scientist! Chuck rubbed his face and noticed the open book at his beside.