Oh, right. I’m here to get tutored in the class I’m failing, not make a new friend. Although the second thing would be a sick bonus.
As I open my textbook to the last module, Dean walks around the table and sits in the creaky chair next to me, shuffling it over to get a better view of the pages. The guy smells great, which is kind of a creepy thing to notice, but it’s fresh and makes it clear he doesn’t spend a lot of his free time around a bunch of sweaty athletes.
The two of us review the module I failed, before reading ahead a little where I get a primer on numbers thirty through a hundred. The whole time, I’m mentally kicking myself for flunking this damn term test, given that the material isn’t super hard.
Or maybe it’s because Dean’s a good tutor. He should give himself a little more credit.
“Okay, that’s it for today,” he says after his phone timer beeps.He unlocks the screen and hands it over. “Add your number and send me a text so we can arrange another session.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I do what he asked and send myself his last-used emoji, which is a peach. Suppressing an inappropriate laugh, I hand the phone back. “I’ll set, like, a million reminders to leave on time so I’m not late.”
“Are you late a lot?” he asks.
Heat rises up my neck at the question—he really clocked me. “Kind of. It’s not a problem with my friends, but it’s a bad habit I need to kick.” I shuffle in my seat. “Especially when someone doesn’t know me.”
“That makes sense, but…” He purses his lips, thinking. “If it’d make things easier, I can go to you next time.”
Out of instinct, I cock my head and rest it on my hand. “Aww, you wanna come to mine already? I’m flattered.”
Shoot. I met this guy less than an hour ago. It’swaytoo soon to joke with him the way I do with Ian and?—
Dean chuckles and rolls his eyes. “You bet. Light a candle for me, and I’ll be falling at your feet in no time.” Then he winks at me, standing up and heading out.
I lean back, grinning.
Fuck yeah. I didn’t only recover from my stupid little screw-up with Dean. The two of us aregood.
CHAPTER FOUR
DEAN
Okay, it’s three on the dot, not like I’ve been counting down over the past week or anything.
I knock on Nick’s apartment door and hold my breath.
Please be ready, because you seem nice otherwise, and I really don’t want to get pissed at you, and your cute face looks so much nicer when you’re smiling instead of scared?—
“It’s open!” Nick yells, and I turn the knob.
I slip my sneakers off in the entryway as soon as I spot a shoe rack by the door. This place is neater than Nick keeps his backpack, for sure, and I round the corner?—
Woah,fuck.
Fuckingfuck.
Nick’s lying face down on the couch, and I can’t help but notice theasson him, not that I could miss that damn mountain range if Itried.
I’ve resisted the temptation to find him on social media, and while I know baseball players work their glutes a lot, what’s in front of me is nothing short of an extremely pleasant surprise.
Nick shouldn’t wear anything but tight gray sweatpants. I’m only human, and I have eyes, which really,reallylike what they’re seeing.
“Uh, hi,” I say, cutting my inappropriate thoughts off.
He turns his head toward me, giving me a wave over his shoulder, and pushes himself up with a movement which makes his backarch.
That just serves to accentuate his tight waist, leading up to wide, wide shoulders?—
Jesus. I’m ridiculous. Averting my gaze, I pretend to engross myself in unpacking my laptop, setting it on the dining table with excessive care and attention. I need to use my brain, and I can’t let it shut down upon getting a second-long glimpse of something I should be able to brush off.
