Which doesn't explain why she's here at the party that Coach is pretending not to know about, locking the door to somebody else's bedroom behind her and looking at Matt like she wants to have him for dinner, spread out on a comforter that probably costs more than his Grandma's house, like he's the blue plate special.

"J-Julie." He stutters through her name because that's all he can manage as she reaches behind her and unzips her dress, letting the white fabric fall to the ground. Matt closes his eyes, sure this has to be some sort of dream he's going to wake up from any minute, embarrassed and hurrying to get his sheets and shorts in the washer before Grandma wakes up.

"I've been thinking, Matt."

They've had this conversation before and it ended up with Indian wrestling in the middle of a cabin out in the middle of nowhere, so he starts to relax a little until Julie reaches up between her breasts and flicks the little clasp that holds her bra together and lets it fall away from her. "Y-you're doing b-better than me."

Julie smiles and Matt glances away from the flushed, rosy nipples long enough to see her full lips part and show him a flash of teeth. She laughs, and he wonders when she started sounding so grown up, like a woman, like her mom, and then he banishes that thought to whatever dark night of his soul it came from. "I want to have sex with you, Matt."

"Yeah?" It sounds like a cross between a squeak and a yelp, which is probably because that's what it is since she's moving toward him, her hips swaying like they're supposed to in her small slip of white cotton panties. Matt doesn't remember Julie's hips doing things like that, but he also doesn't remember Julie ever looking like this, like she's hungry for something that only Matt can give her. "Sex, huh?"

"You do know what sex is, right, Saracen?" She laughs again, her finger trailing down Matt's t-shirt toward the waistband of his jeans. His whole body jerks with her touch and he starts to take a step back, only to find himself backed up against the bed. "You and Carlotta had sex."

"We…how…me and…" He stops talking when she kisses him. He's kissed her before, and she's kissed him, but it's never been like this. Julie's aggressive and hungry and he can taste it on her tongue and feel it on her hands as she tugs his shirt free from his jeans and pushes it up over his head. He goes willingly, groaning when she presses her bared breasts against his chest, wrapping his arms around her slim figure and holding her close as he turns them, guiding her down to the bed. Julie laughs again, only this time he swallows the sound in a kiss, his hand snaking down between them to find the elastic of her panties, to pull it away from her smooth skin and slide his hand against the silky soft hair to the wet flesh beneath.

Julie gasps and spreads her legs wider and Matt kneels between her legs, bracing himself on one hand as the other teases her skin apart, fingers sliding against warm skin until he finds the hard nub of her clit. Carlotta had taught him things he hadn't known - what they were, what they did, what they made her do - and he uses them on Julie, watching with wide eyes as her body responds. In a lot of ways, it's like having a football in his hands. He knows the playbook, so he follows his own personal set of Xs and Os to make Julie gasp and groan and arch into him.

Julie's not nearly as guarded as Carlotta was, so her voice cracks and she shudders like that old beat up car of Matt's used to do, and she begs him to stop and for more in the same breath. Matt watches her raptly, fumbling to undo his jeans with one hand as her body tightens around the other, bathing his fingers in her orgasm. "Julie." He pants her name, shoving his jeans down to his knees, working at getting his boxer-briefs over his cock without ruining everything by losing control.

Julie's shivers subside just about the time Matt actually manages to work the condom out of his wallet, his fingers too wet to actually get the package open. Julie sits up, all business as usual and opens it, taking it out and looking it over before placing it on the head of Matt's cock and tilting her head, giving him a questioning look before she strokes it down his shaft. Matt bites his lip hard enough to taste blood just from the feel of it and he works to get them untangled enough that he can get her panties off of her and toss them aside so he can slide inside her.

She's tight. God, she's tight, and Matt's fairly certain he's never been this hard, this ready, this desperate for anything. Julie's making noises like the abandoned baby cat Landry found and nursed back to health, mewling like she's starving, and Matt tries to mumble something reassuring that isn't the crazy, relentless cry of victory that's echoing in his head with every thrust. Instead he pants her name against her ear, sweat-wet tendrils of her hairclinging to his chin and lips and face as he licks the salt from her skin and he kisses her, misses her, loves her.

He's not sure how much time passes before it's over, before everything has come back into focus instead of the blinding white and darkest black that filled his head while he was inside her, but he can feel his body ebbing, so he pulls out carefully. Julie's gasp makes it sound like she's half-asleep, but Matt suspects she's at least as out of her head as he is. The bed is big so he tugs her up against the pillows and away from the wet stain on the comforter, wrapping her up in his arms and holding her while she trembles.

"Tim Riggins teach you how to do that?"

"Nah," Matt whispers, kissing her still damp temple. "I ain't never slept with Tim Riggins."

Julie laughs and then hiccups into a fit of tears that Matt knows even less what to do with. She shifts on top of him and looks down, eyes bright and unreadable and looking like maybe she's seeing Matt again, instead of Number Seven; seeing who he is instead of what he does. "You have no idea how glad I am to know that."