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Some of the guys that come to us for help act as though we owe them our first born child because they play a sport at the school. While some people live and die by the athletics at Strickland University, I am not one of them. I’m here because it’s the best college in the state and one of the best in
the country.
That’s why I pay the price of being humiliated by my stepsisters and mentally tortured by my stepmother. Even if I worked three jobs or was able to secure a loan, this school is far too expensive to afford. Plus, Clarissa had refused to sign a single paper to help me get financing. Her only bargaining chip has always been my education. One day, when I’m gone and successful, I hope karma bites her in the ass.
By the time I reach the first floor, crowds of students push through the doors and practically knock me into a table, as I try to pass. I lose my balance for a second and reach out to grab the wood, but I’m too far away to get a good grip. My bag slides down my shoulder, and I’m about to trip over my feet and land flat on my face when someone hooks their arm through mine.
Judging by the way his muscles flex against my skin, it must be a man. As he helps me regain my footing, I glance up and find steel blue eyes that pierce through me, shattering my insides with one look. Finch stares at me and studies my face for far too long. Still joined together, we stand there for a few minutes, the heat radiating between us. He seems at a loss for words. A guy like Finch always knows what to say.
I lick my lips without thinking and remember his full lips pressed against mine. I can still recall the scent of Finch’s aftershave on my skin as he devoured my body.
“You…” Finch shakes his head, his voice trailing off for a second. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”
This time, he analyzes every feature of my face. He runs his thumb along my jaw, leaving a trail of heat in its wake, and cups my face with his big hand. I’m speechless, unable to move or breathe. This is how I felt the night we kissed. Finch can make me powerless, and I hate that.
As if he has realized that what he’s doing is weird, he lets go of my face. Like all of the athletes on campus, Finch draws a crowd wherever he goes. I take a step back, slipping from his grasp.
“Thanks for saving me.” I give him a tiny smile. “I think that makes you my Knight in Shining Armor or something.”
I’m such a dork that I shudder at my comment, but Finch smiles so wide that it reaches his eyes, illuminating every inch of his handsome face. Before he can respond, I raise my hand and wave. I spin on my heel, too afraid to look back.
With everyone’s eyes burning a hole through me, I haul ass through the center of the library, passing rows of desks, until I reach the tutoring center. Breathing comes easier now that I’m away from everyone. The air is less dense, more manageable.
I’m at the one place where I am comfortable, the one escape from the real world. It’s also my excuse not to run home after class. My hands stop trembling for all of thirty seconds before Finch strolls into the room behind me. He winks when he locks onto me, making it a point to let me know he’s here.
Could a guy like Finch like the real me?
I had my doubts for the past week, which is why I decided never to speak to him again. But he’s here and chatting up the student librarians, who are more than happy to help him. Seeing him here after that kiss is more than I can handle right now.
I walk up to the counter to get my assignment for the day. Some days are different from others, while some weeks stay the same and I tutor the same person the entire semester. Running my finger down the sign-in sheet, I spot my name and trace a line to the student’s name next to mine. Shawn Finch.
This is not happening.
Last year, I would have fought my friend to steal Finch away from her, but what should I do? As per the usual, I’m supposed to stand in the front of the room and call out the name of the student. But I want to vomit at the thought of working with Finch.
I consider trading with another tutor until it occurs to me that this could help me get what I want, all while helping Finch get what he needs. How else can I get close enough to Finch to get back the other half of my gold charm?
Attempting to keep my shit together, I move away from the counter and stand in the middle of the desks that run down the aisle. “Shawn Finch,” I say, my voice somewhat shaky but not too noticeable. Or so I hope.
He stops talking to the guys on the hockey team long enough to glance over his shoulder at me. The way he stares at me makes me nervous. It’s so intense and serious.
After a long pause, he nods in my direction. Finch pats the boy he was talking to on the back, muttering something I can’t make out, and then stalks toward me with a purpose. His gaze causes my lip to tremble along with my body that has come alive with one look.
“So, we meet again,” he says, his voice deep and modulated. His words are like a melody playing in my head. “What are the chances that I save you from making an ass of yourself out there, and now, you’re going to save me from failing this class?”
I grin so wide my jaw hurts. “I guess the odds are in our favor.”
“I’m serious about the not failing part,” Finch says, as he follows me to my usual table in the back of the room. “I can’t afford to fail any of my classes, or I won’t graduate on time, and Coach will not let me play.”
“Lucky for you, I am an excellent tutor, and you are in good hands.”
He pulls out a chair for me at the table, gesturing for me to sit with a nod, and my brain stops functioning.
I look at him like an idiot, frozen in place.
“You should sit,” he says, snapping me out of my trance. “The next two hours could be rough in those shoes if you plan to stand the entire time.”
It doesn’t occur to me what he’s talking about until I look down at the four-inch heels I borrowed from Mrs. Feighry last night. She has amazing taste in clothes and even better taste in shoes.
