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“Well, I take my hat off to you,” I muttered. “Because I fucking loathe science.”
“Stop,” she chuckled. “Science isn’t that bad.”
I arched a brow. “Oh, like maths isn’t?”
She grimaced. “Okay, fair point.”
“Come on,” I said with a smirk, refocusing my attention on the book in my hands. “Get your copybook out and I’ll school you.”
“You’ll school me?” She giggled and, Christ, it was a lovely sound.
Shannon didn’t do enough laughing.
I racked my brain thinking of other things I could do to get a repeat of that sound. I had a whole heap of ideas—terrible, awful ideas.
Concentrate, Kavanagh…
So I did.
For the next hour or so, I went through her work with her, watching carefully as she attempted each problem. She wasn’t kidding when she said she found maths hard.
Shannon was seriously struggling with the subject.
Seeing her struggle made me want to jump in and bulldoze, which was exactly what I seemed to be doing as I lay strewn out on my side, with my long legs hanging off the side of her bed, breaking down every sum, equation, fraction, and percentage that came our way.
One of her biggest issues was that she had no idea how to use her calculator efficiently.
Quickly on, I discovered that she had no clue about sin, cos, and tan. She was bluffing and pretending that she knew what she was doing when she clearly didn’t.
When she finally caved in and tossed the calculator on my lap and admitted that she didn’t have the foggiest clue of what she was doing, I ended up spending another forty-five minutes going through basic methods with her.
When she eventually starting solving the problems without me hovering over her copybook with an eraser, it felt like I’d scored a bleeding try, I was so proud of her.
It was ridiculous how much genuine satisfaction I got when those big blue eyes lit up when she clicked onto a problem.
It was right around the time I was beginning to think Gibsie had a point, and that I could do this friend thing, when I faced a problem of my own.
I foolishly allowed my eyes to wander off the copybook Shannon was furiously scribbling on, where they then proceeded to trail over her body.
She was still sitting cross-legged and facing me, but she was leaning forward, working hard on a sum, which caused the string top she was wearing to droop, giving me a glorious view of her braless tits.
Sweet Jesus Christ.
I loved tits.
And tits that belonged to this girl were even more appealing. They were small and perky with rosy-tipped, pebbled nipples.
She was just so fucking beautiful.
I was instantly hard.
“Are you okay?” Shannon asked, placing her small hand on my forearm.
“Huh?” I snapped my gaze to her face, totally fucking busted.
“Are you okay?” she repeated, blue eyes locked on mine, expression innocent.
I was about the furthest a person could get from okay. But for her sake, I forced a small nod and said, “Yeah, I’m just getting a bit hungry.”
