A blush stained the apples of her cheeks, but Linc was no fool. That was not an embarrassed woman, and while he wasn’t a mind reader, murder was most definitely on that Latina’s mind. Namely, his.
The bell chimed, punctuating the end of class with a shrill peal. She shoved her belongings into her backpack, her wild waves falling into her face, and strode over to him. “I’m not giving you my cell number.” Her nostrils flared and he itched to reach out and tuck her unruly hair behind her ear.
“I didn’t ask. But don’t we need to communicate for the project we’re working on?”
She mumbled something half under her breath about how God hated her and paired her with him as punishment. They were the only ‘group’ in the class that had two members instead of three.
“I won’t do your work for you.”
“I didn’t ask you for that either. Seems you’re making a lot of assumptions here, Cleo. Here…” He pulled his notebook out of his backpack, scribbled his email address, tore the page from the book and handed it to her. “Why don’t you decide what you think I’m capable of contributing to the project and let me know, yeah? I mean, you’ve already written me off as a dumb jock. And you said you’re not going to do the work for me, so maybe when you email you could use small words, and write in short sentences so my tiny, athlete brain understands what you want.”
Her jaw twitched, and her eyes widened under raised eyebrows. She snatched the notepad and pen from him, wrote her email address, and gave it back to him. “I don’t like to give out my number.”
“I bet your friends have it.”
A flush crept up her neck reaching all the way to the tip of her ears. “They do. My roommate keeps getting dick pics. I don’t want that shit near me.”
He snorted. “And you think I’m not only stupid, but that I want to send you pictures of my cock?” He folded his arms and tapped a finger on his jaw. “Interesting. Though, for the record…” He leaned close. She smelled of strawberries and something sweet he couldn’t place. “Everyone knows you’re more into books than dicks. If I were the type to send dick pics, I wouldn’t waste them on you.”
“Good.” She squared her shoulders. “’Cause I’d block and report you, but not before screen-shotting it and sending it to everyone you know on social media.”
He failed at schooling his face, it broke into a smirk.
“You don’t believe me?”
Something in her challenge made him want to back her against a wall, thread his fingers into her hair and kiss her till they both got dizzy.
Down boy.She was off the table; not at all interested in him. Not to mention he shouldn’t be interested in her. Jocks and Nerds, right? Then why was the scent of strawberries and the look of fire and ‘fuck you’ in her eyes sending all the wrong signals to his stiff-as-a-rod dick straining against his pants?
The woman would be the death of him.But what a fucking way to go.“Oh, I have no doubt you’d do just that.”
Glaring, she plucked her phone from her back pocket, unlocked it and left without a backwards glance. She was clearly done entertaining him.
It might have been a few minutes, or an hour later, but his phone vibrating against his ass cheek dragged him out of the post-Cleo stupor. He shook his head. She was not the right girl for him. And yet part of him, a part growing louder by the day, wanted him to act on the lust boiling him from the inside.
But what about Elizabeth? Guilt at lusting over Cleo while talking to Elizabeth doused his desire like a storm on a wildfire. Maybe the girl in the phone didn’t look as beautiful as Cleo, but did he care? She spoke to him on a level,gothim on a level that no one else did. She talked to him because of who he was, not where she thought he could get her, that counted for way more than a smoldering gaze that said ‘I’m going to murder you in your sleep, jock boy.’
He needed to put the beautiful brunette from his mind and focus on the girl in the phone, maybe he could coax her to meet him in person. Maybe she’d be even more gorgeous than Cleo. He snorted and his dick twitched.
“Yeah, yeah, I know, not likely.” He unlocked his phone and clicked his message icon.
Elizabeth: My roommate wants me to go to a party tonight and I’d rather boil my face in vinegar. What excuse can I use? I tried to tell her I need to work on a group project for school but she says that excuse is wearing thin.
Lincoln: Wow. Talk about graphic. Tell her you have a date.
Elizabeth: She’d know I’m lying. She’s my best friend, she knows everything.
Lincoln: You won’t be lying. You’ll be on a date with me, Miss Bennet.
She went quiet. He shoved his notebook into his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and left to find food. An hour later, she still hadn’t replied.
Lincoln: Elizabeth?
Lincoln: Is this cause I suggested a date? We don’t have to go face-to-face if you’re not ready. To be honest I’m not even sure if I’m ready. I just thought it might be fun. If you’d rather stay home, in our separate houses, we can do that too. We’ll pick a movie, order pizza and text. It can be a virtual date night. If you want to, we can call each other. Or not. I dunno, I kinda like the mystery, but I’m happy to do whatever you’re comfortable doing.
Jesus Linc, shut the fuck up.
Elizabeth: Are you nervous, Mr. Darcy? You’re not normally so… babbly. That’s my territory. I’d love a virtual, text date. Someday we can meet, sure, just… not today. I’m not ready.
