Page 27
I clear my throat, already reaching for an apology. “Ignore that. I don’t know why I—Quinn. What are we learning first, Quinn?”
A slight flush pinks his cheeks, and he looks at his notebook.
“If we start on Chapter three that will transition into the rest of it. Really, it should have been the first chapter,” he says. “And don’t call me that.”
“Noted.” I open my book to chapter three and tap the page. “Chapter three. No more brainy bears.”
“No bears.”
He slides his notebook down so I can see it from the floor. I stare at the equation. I can do numbers. It’s better to focus on that rather than the fact that I just came in the shower with his face front and center and then called him brainy bear.
“Walk me through it,” I say.
He slides off the chair down to the floor next to me, his back against his bed. And for the next hour, he teaches me everything I couldn’t understand by reading it. I feel a million times better about the topic once we are done.
I can’t help the smile that pulls at my lips when he sets the notebook to the side with a sigh.
“I get it,” I say. “I actually get it.”
“It helps when it’s in the proper order.” He pushes his glasses up. “And if you write the units every time, I think it will help.”
“Nag.”
“Tutor.”
Silence settles between us. Not bad really. His knee is close enough to mine that I could bump it if I was stupid. My pulse starts racing, and I can feel my breath get a little shallow.
“Quinn.”
He looks at me.
“If you’ve changed your mind,” I say. “We can stop here.”
He swallows. I watch it.
“I need to learn this.”
Okay.
Okay.
I wipe my hands on my sweats and shift so I’m facing him, my legs crossed between us. He mirrors my position, his hands in his lap. He picks at his cuticle, and I reach out to grab his hands in mine.
“We will start slow.”
“Okay,” he squeaks. His fingers flex in mine, and I wonder if he’s about to pull away. “I probably should have mentioned before that I don’t really like to have people touch me.”
I pause, his hands still in mine. That…might be an issue. How can I teach him without touching him?
I keep my voice easy, even though my brain is scrambling. “Do you want me to let go?”
He looks down at our hands. He thinks about it. I can see the wheels turning.
He shakes his head. “No. This is okay. I want this. I just—I needed you to know. In case I flinch or something. It’s not you.”
“Okay.” I rub my thumb once over his knuckle, then stop, because even that might be too much. “New rule. I’ll ask before touching you. You can tell me no. Just say wait or stop.”
He nods. Some of the tension leaves his shoulders.
