“But then it just talks about something else,” I say.
“Not quite,” she says. “I know it seems like it, because it starts out talking about research into academic writing and then switches into an anecdote, but that’s just to humanize the topic a little. It’s not important information.”
I’m only about seventy percent certain I know what an anecdote is, but I don’t want her to think I’m even more of an idiot than I already sound, so I just nod along. “Seems unnecessary.”
She snorts, which makes a dude in front of us clear his throat pointedly.
“Skip down to the part where it discusses the study on formal writing education,” she whispers.
She takes me through the article, showing me her own annotations as examples for what to focus on. I can’t help but be a little distracted by the way she smells and how much I’m yearning to lean in closer, but in the end, I have a halfway decent paragraph to hand in. Something about the way she explained it made way more sense than in the past, which is weird, considering I’ve always had such a block when it comes to writing. If she was the professor, I’d probably get an A in this class.
I reach over and pluck her pen out of her hand. She gives me an outraged look, but I just grin and scrawl thank you on her syllabus. I have to resist the urge to include my phone number. That would definitely make her scowl even more adorable, but I don’t want to come on too strong—because a plan is forming in my mind, and I need her on board for it to work.
After all, who would say no to a paid tutoring gig?
7
BEX
“Hey, Bexy.”
I turn to James, a scowl already planted on my face. I figured he was going to follow me outside, but no one calls me Bexy. Darryl ruined that nickname completely.
I hike my bag over my shoulder and shade my eyes as I look up at him. He’s even taller than Darryl. It’s seriously unfair that he’s up there and I’m all the way down here. “It’s Bex.”
“Sorry. Bex, can we talk?”
I thought he was attractive at the party, all dressed up in a black suit, but this is somehow better. He’s wearing a tank top that shows off his drool-worthy shoulders, athletic shorts, and sandals, and I have no idea why it’s working so well for me, but it is. The irrational part of my brain is chanting, “Lick him!” Pathetic.
But his eyes are so blue.
I mentally put my foot down. “I have work.”
“Where do you work?”
I huff out a breath. “Just make it quick. I need to be back across campus in fifteen.”
“Let’s walk and talk, then.”
He literally starts walking away, and I can’t help it, I burst out laughing. He looks so confident—and if he headed that way, he’d end up in town.
He looks back at me, frustration in the set of his jaw. “What?”
“It’s this way.” I point in the opposite direction and start fast-walking. “And you can walk with me, but only because I have a feeling you’re going to make this conversation happen one way or another.”
He jogs to catch up to me. “What makes you think that?”
I look up at him. “We kissed.”
“We did,” he agrees. He lowers his voice. “It was a good kiss.”
“I’m sorry I did it,” I blurt as my cheeks heat up. “Darryl—” I stop walking abruptly and bump into him. He steadies me, his big hands on my shoulders, and for a hot second they feel like a brand going straight between my legs. What’s with this guy? My body loves when he’s close. The entire time I helped him with that assignment, I wanted to lean my head on his shoulder.
“Bex,” he says. “Look at me.”
If I look into those ocean eyes, I’m afraid he’ll be able to see how much he’s affecting me.
He hooks his finger under my chin and tilts my head up. My hands flutter around him for half a second before finding their way to his sides, resting lightly. Even through the shirt he’s wearing, I can feel the power in his body. Stupid athletes with their stupidly sculpted bodies. Something about knowing the dedication that had to go into creating and maintaining it gets me every time.
“Hey,” he says, still holding me in place. I’m frozen, looking up at him, torn between pulling away and staying put. “Don’t worry about it. I know a jealousy kiss when I see one.”
“I didn’t realize you were his teammate.”
He just shrugs. “Like I said, don’t worry about it. We talked; we’re cool.”
“Oh. Good.” I stop and pull away, giving us a couple feet of distance. “Um. Even besides that, we can’t.”
“I know,” he says easily. “But I did want to talk about something else.”
His lack of a fight hurts, which is stupid, because I just told him to back off. It would never work. Even if we just hooked up, that would make things more awkward for him and Darryl, and I’m still firmly in no-relationship land. I don’t know him, but the intensity he radiates practically screams that he doesn’t do anything halfway.
“Why do you know?” I say.
He smiles slightly. “Because a girl like you deserves more than I can give, Bex.”
I risk a step closer in his direction. Angle my chin up as I look at him. “How do you know what kind of girl I am? We barely know each other.”
“I saw how you looked after we kissed. Trust me, you’re a relationship girl.”
Annoyance pricks my skin. He’s right, but the casual way he says it makes it feel like a negative. “And you don’t do relationships?”
“I don’t do anything but football.” His hand curls and uncurls on the strap of his backpack. “Let’s just move on, okay?”
“Fine,” I say as we continue walking. I make sure there’s a few feet between us, so I don’t do something idiotic like try and kiss him again. Even though we decided to move on not two seconds ago, I still feel that tug in my belly. I never gave much thought to chemical attraction before, but how else can I explain this? “What did you want to ask me?”
“Thanks again for helping me out in class.” He runs a hand through his hair, ducking his head. “Um… you know I failed the class the first time.”
“Yeah.”
“I really can’t fail it this time. I need it to graduate, and it’s only a fall class.”
I sigh. “Yeah. I think that’s shitty of them since they’re so strict about it.”
“You obviously know what you’re doing. I need your help. I need you to tutor me.”
“There’s a TA. You can go to office hours.”
“Can’t.”
“Can’t?” I repeat.
“I have practice all of those times,” he says. He looks genuinely frustrated, which almost makes me say yes, but I give myself a little mental shake. I really don’t have time to be someone’s tutor, even if he paid me. Not to mention the attraction to him that I can’t seem to turn off. Being alone with the guy to tutor him? That sounds like heaven… I mean, torture.
He scuffs the pavement with his shoe. “I’ll pay you for your time, of course.”