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CHAPTER TWENTY
I hated homework. Always had.
Before I had started kindergarten, my older sister, Becca, had told me my teacher would give me a homework assignment if she thought I was dumb. And sure enough, at the end of my very first day of school, my teacher, Miss Zeigler, had clasped her hands together cheerfully.
“For homework, I want all of you to go home and practice writing the letter A.”
I’d promptly stuck out my bottom lip and burst into tears, thinking I was the ultimate epitome of stupid.
Through the years, I’d slowly overcome homework apprehension and had yet to bawl over another class assignment. However, the urge to sob like my old kindergarten self bubbled to the surface the next Tuesday morning when my General Virology professor gleefully doled out eight pages of research questions and then announced we’d go over the answers the next time class met.
That gave me forty-eight hours to look up and find fifty responses that were in no way easy or simple to uncover.
That evening, I had two textbooks flipped open and three handouts spread across the table in front of me. Around me, the college library stayed fairly quiet, yet every scrape of a chair, shuffle of paper, or cough from a passing patron distracted me.
The guy sitting next to me, leisurely rubbing the toe of his shoe up and down my shin, didn’t help matters either. I wanted to tell Bradley to scram, but he was a part of my Tuesday evening study group, though I wasn’t too sure why he was a member. He didn’t seem too interested in the whole concept of actually doing homework. I figured he must’ve joined hoping to get the answers solved for him.
Thus far, I had gone with the whole “I’m trying to ignore you” plan. But unfortunately, he wasn’t catching the hint.
Across from us, Ethan Riker hovered over his own textbook as he squinted through thick-rimmed glasses and worked out what appeared to be a particularly difficult problem. I frowned as I glanced over and noticed he was three questions ahead of me.
Gasp! Not acceptable.
Clenching my teeth in competitive irritation, I once again focused on my worksheet and suddenly wished Mason were a Virology major. He had never tried to play footsie with me when we’d studied together—though with him, it would have been welcomed—and I had always worked faster than him.
But no, Mason was working toward an electrical engineering major. The buzzkill.
Besides, I was still avoiding him. Kind of. Okay, not at all. But I hadn’t seen him since Sunday evening at Sarah’s party because he was back to keeping his distance from me.
I nearly jumped out of my chair when I felt a very bare toe creep over my calf. Eww! If Bradley was rubbing some nasty foot fungus onto me, he was so dead.
As I scooted my chair a couple of inches away from him, he didn’t get the hint.
“Hey, Reese?” he whispered.
Not daring to give him any more incentive to harass me, I didn’t even glance up as I murmured, “Hmm?” in the utmost distracted tone I could fake.
“Can you help me find which animal the prion disease, scrapie, affects?”
I almost groaned. That was part of the first question on the worksheet. Good God Almighty. Bradley needed to get a move on it if he was going to finish the handout tonight. And he really needed to get his grubby feet off me before I kicked him.
Seriously.
Seeming to have mercy on me, Ethan looked up. “It’s sheep. Says right here in the textbook on page thirteen.”
“Oh,” Bradley mumbled unenthusiastically. “Thanks,” He sent a not-so-grateful look Ethan’s way. As he jotted down the answer, I glanced across the table. I wanted to send Ethan a discreet “Thank you for getting him off my leg” smile, but he already had his nose buried back in the worksheet.
And, damn it, now he was four questions ahead of me. Bradley lifted his face, turned toward me and opened his mouth as if he was going to ask for help on the second question. My teeth grated. On the edge of losing my cool completely, I seared him with an evil, don’t-you-dare glare.
Before Bradley could speak—or even attempt to—and I could blow up and tell him to keep his toes off me, a voice broke over the intercom. “The library will be closing in twenty minutes.”
Ah…saved by the closing library.
Next to Ethan, Debby slapped her book shut. “Thank God. I’m so out of here. I can’t answer another question on this stupid assignment tonight.”
Chase, who was sitting between Debby and Bradley, followed suit. “Who the hell cares about virus classifications anyway?”
Bradley watched with wide eyes as both Debby and Chase began to pack their things. It was a little too obvious he didn’t want to stick around the last twenty minutes either. And since I hadn’t fallen under the spell of his icky leg-massaging efforts, he no doubt wanted to flee with the others.
