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I had to present a legal argument in front of the class this morning, and that required me to dress in professional attire as if I were a practicing attorney. I minor in law and major in finance, which is why I have so many classes with Tori. Finch is failing Law and Ethics. I breezed through that class last semester.
Finch waits for me to sit and pushes the chair in for me. Tori was right about him. He’s not like the person I had built up in my head. The kind of guy who would help a girl into her chair is most definitely the same guy who would take care of his mother. I would love to see that side of him for myself, but that would require me to attend a football game.
Anastasia and Natasha would be there, making the idea less desirable by the minute. They have their claws in every player who will sleep with them. Finch is mine. But I have to put on my big girl pants if I want him.
Would he want me? That’s the question of the hour. I guess there’s only one way to find out.
Getting comfortable in the chair, I lean back against the wood and take out my notepad and books. Finch sits across from me and removes his textbook and writing supplies. His long leg grazes mine as he settles into his seat, causing sparks to ignite beneath my skin.
He peeks up at me and gives a quick apology. I wish he’d keep touching me, even if it’s just a little under the table action. Being this close to him again does things to me that I cannot explain. I was never a boy-crazed girl, but around Finch, I’m like a blood thirsty vampire, hungry and desperate for more. He smells so good that I take in the scent of his sweet cologne that fills my nostrils. I memorize his perfectly sculpted features, perfectly messy hair that I want to run my fingers through, and his arms…My God I want him to jump across this table and finish what we had started last week.
Finch must feel it too because he hasn’t spoken a single word. He stares me down like a hunter stalking its prey. I wish he would bite me, lick every inch of my body, and take what he wants. But I am not that girl—even if he is that guy.
“Are you sure we haven’t met before?” Finch breaks the silence between us. “You look familiar.”
I shake my head. “I’ve worked at the tutoring center since sophomore year. That could be why I look so familiar to you.”
He blushes, turning his head to the side for a second. “I guess you get a lot of dumb jocks in here.”
“No one is dumb. Some people just need more help than others.”
“And you can help me?” he asks without hesitation. His tone is hopeful.
“I don’t doubt that you will graduate with our class by the time I finish with you.”
Finch leans forward, digs his elbows into the wood, and cups his face in his hands. The two feet that separate us is not enough when he flashes me a panty-melting smile that goes straight to my core. I cross my legs and suck in a deep breath, reminding myself to keep it together. I cannot let my guard down around Finch. But he does things to me that I wish wouldn’t happen, stripping away my willpower.
“You’re graduating this year, too?”
“With honors,” I confess.
“Smart, beautiful, what else do I need to know about you?” He stops himself, as if deep in thought, and then continues, “There is something about you. I can’t put my finger on it, but I know you from somewhere other than the tutoring center.”
“I’m not in a sorority or on the cheerleading team, so I doubt it.”
“That’s not it,” he says, unfazed by my dig at the company he keeps. “Those girls blend, but a girl like you stands out from the crowd.”
“How so?” This I’m dying to hear.
“You’re not like those girls.”
I snort. “Well, thanks for pointing out the obvious and making this conversation even more awkward.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
I shrug, pretending as though his words didn’t just cut through me. Finch would never see me the way he does a sorority girl or a cheerleader. That much is clear from his comments. I stand out from the crowd all right.
He crosses his arms over his chest, holding my gaze. Those eyes are like daggers that cut deep into my soul. I wish he’d say something to end my suffering. The silence is deafening and driving me crazy.
“What’s you
r name, tutor girl?” He’s so fucking cute that when he winks at me, I can’t decide if I want to kiss or punch him for calling me tutor girl. But it sounds more like a term of endearment than an insult coming from Finch.
“For starters, my name is not tutor girl.” I sink further into the chair and decide what to say next. Around Finch, I’m nervous yet bold, just like I was at the party.
“I’m still waiting, Princess.”
“Princess is not any better,” I mutter. “Try again.”
