He stared at me.
I stared at him because there was something about him, something gorgeous. Mesmerizing. Spellbound, that was what it was. I felt spellbound by this guy whose scent–like clean soap and something unidentifiable but rugged–hit me all at once from the few feet that separated us.
I had no idea how long we pretty much played the blinking game because the only reason it ended was because some girl walking by said, “Hey Zeb.”
He looked up, offered her a casual “hey” in return.
I shook my head, as if he’d put me into some kind of trance. Looked around. Everyone was staring at us. People from other study tables to those walking by to even the librarian at the front desk.
I leaned in and whispered, meeting his eyes again. “Why is everyone staring? Are you famous or something?”
“Think they’re all staring at you, sweetheart,” he murmured back.
I frowned, pushed my glasses up. “Me? God, do I have mustard on my face or something? Did my pen explode again?”
His blue eyes roved slowly over my face and I felt it all over.
“They haven’t seen a prettier girl.”
I flushed and rolled my eyes at the same time. “Okay, hot shot,” I muttered. “You don’t have to butter me up. Me tutoring you is a given.”
“You don’t believe me?” he pondered.
I tapped the wooden surface of the table. “This is my spot. In the library.” I was literally pointing out how much of a dork I was. “I lost my pencil a while ago–”
“It’s in your hair,” he commented, his eyes tipping north to study my blonde mess.
I reached up, patted the wildness and there it was. My damned pencil.
“See? No one is looking at me.” I pointed at myself. “Total nerd over here.”
“If I’d known you were here, I’d’ve come to the library years ago.”
Now, I was really blushing. He was complimenting me. I wasn’t sure why. Up until a minute ago, he thought he was being tutored by a guy. No doubt, he had a girlfriend and was just trying to be nice because I was the key to him passing his class. Heck, he probably had multiple girlfriends.
While my body responded to him on an instinctual,visceral level, it didn’t mean that he did in return. It wasn’t like I had guys looking my way. Rose told me I dressed like I found my clothes in a donation box, which was half true. I loved to thrift shop and who was I trying to impress? I didn’t have time for guys and when I did my work study at the elementary school down the street, I wore dangly apple earrings and ugly sweaters to amuse the second graders.
I needed to get with the program. Zeb Wilder was here to pass his genetics class. I was here to keep my scholarship.
“Got your textbook?” I asked. “Maybe you can tell me what chapters you need help on for your midterm?”
2
ZEB
Midterm?Chapters?
I was listening to every word out of her perfect mouth, but I wasn’t hearing her words. All I heard was my brain and my dick both sayingmine.
I’d showered and left practice with the guys, heading to the cafeteria to eat a few burgers and a plate of spaghetti, but I’d had to duck out early to make it to the library in time for my required tutoring session. I was pleasantly surprised that my genetics tutor wasn’t Cameron, a guy, but Cammie, a gorgeous girl.
She’d been right when she said everyone waslooking at me. They were. I didn’t ever come to the library. I may have been inside once freshman year during the orientation tour, but not since. Fuck, had I been missing out. I was Zeb Wilder, the university’s quarterback. I led the team the past two years–yup, even as a freshman–to winning our bowl games and was working toward the same this year, too.
I had the arm and the charm as my teammates liked to say.
Except there hadn’t been a girl on campus in the two years I’d been here who I’d wanted to charm like I did Cammie.
Why? Because no one seemed to fucking see what I did when I went to the table listed on my tutor sheet I’d gotten in my email sent from my coach. While I wasn’t doing all that great in my genetics class, I hadn’t wanted a tutor. Coach insisted. He wanted me to stay focused, stay eligible to play. A solid midterm grade would ensure that.
