Page 8 of People Like Us

“And he’s what, only contagious on Wednesdays?”

I rolled my eyes. “My sore throat isn’t from anything contagious, August,” I said even slower.

His brows furrowed, and I watched as the realization flooded his features, turning his cheeks into a flush that shone a bright coral under his tan skin.

“Jesus, no wonder girls don’t like doing that,” he said.

I laughed. “Well, not every guy is as rough as Andy is.”

August searched my expression in a way that made me feel exposed. “Do you like that?”

I swallowed, then shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

“That isn’t a yes,” he said sternly.

“Well, it isn’t any of your business, is it?”

August’s face moved into something even harder than his usual scowl. “No. It’s not. I just don’t see why you’d do something that hurts you that much.”

“Because relationships are a compromise,” the words sounded rehearsed even to me.

“Well, I hope you’re cashing in on your end. Would hate to think of Woodland High’s favorite couple as being anything but transactional.”

I slammed my laptop shut. “How much do I owe you?”

He looked at me, bewildered. “You don’t have to pay me.”

“I said I would, so name your price.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want your money, Lola.”

“Then why did you agree to tutor me?”

“Because you needed it,” he said, as if the answer should be obvious.

I stared at him. “Fine.”

“Fine,” he said back, no emotion in it.

“Thanks for the notes. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You’re leaving?” he asked, but I ignored the suddenly soft inflection of the words.

“Yes. We’re done studying and I don’t feel like being judged, or slut-shamed or whatever this is by someone who’s probably never been in a relationship before.”

He reared back, and I regretted saying it instantly.

“I wasn’t judging you. I would never judge a woman for enjoying sex, Lola,” he said, a bit angry.

“Sure feels like you are,” I bit back.

“I’m sorry,” he said instantly.

I didn’t know what to do with that, so I just said, “Okay.”

He gave me a sad smile. “You don’t have to say okay if you’re mad at me, Lola.” I wished he’d stop saying my name like that.

“Stop talking to me like a child, August. I don’t need you to micromanage my feelings for me.”