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“She turned you down,” I say.
The Braves fan meets my eyes. With my chest pressed into Tatum’s back, looming over her and glaring at him, there’s no mistaking it. What he questioned earlier is true. She’s not available for him.
Even though I’m only supposed to be her temporary tutor to help her hook up with guys.
I clench my jaw at that thought and fight the primal urge to wrap my arm around her waist for good measure.
The angry disdain in Jackson’s eyes when he swings around to study her with a quick sweep stops me, sending me crashing back to reality. I might be able to get away with protecting Tatum like she’s my blood, but I would hate to see my best friend turn that look on me if he found out about what I’ve been doing to his sister.
“Sorry, sweetheart. We didn’t know,” Braves guy croons, watching me from the corner of his eye. “Could’ve just said you had a boyfriend.”
She huffs, the offended and stubborn sound yanking on my heartstrings. I step back an inch with a smirk curling the corners of my mouth.
“I’m not your sweetheart, so you can cut that out. And actually, whether I’m attached to a partner or not doesn’t matter.” She hands the serving tray to her brother and props her hands on her hips. All three of them widen their eyes, exchanging quick glances. “I’m my own person, and I’m not interested in hanging out. Like I said, I have plans. And if I didn’t, I don’t think you’re the kind of person I enjoy hanging out with.”
With that, she spins on her heel and breezes away. I grin after her, the tip of my tongue poking between my teeth. Jackson snorts and shakes his head at his sister. She can stand up on her own, but we’ll always be there for her whether she needs us or not.
I turn back to the tourists. “You about done, then? I’ll get your bill so you can close out your tab.” They mumble an agreement. Once they pay, I hold on to the credit card and lean across the bar. “You probably shouldn’t come back here again. Enjoy your stay in South Bay.”
They leave quickly at the steely edge in my tone. I heave a sigh and search for Tatum. She laughs in the corner with one of the older regulars, serving up a basket of fish tacos. My heartbeat thumps at the sight of her bright smile.
Licking my lips, I untie the apron around my waist and bump fists with Jackson. Our shift ended a few minutes before we stopped the tourists from bothering his sister.
“Want to come with me to grab supplies for the party?” he asks.
Tatum squeezes past us, brushing against me. A hint of coconut and lime tickles my nose. “Move, guys. You’re blocking the door to the kitchen.”
The Shack is easily the most popular spot for people to eat out of all the beachfront options. We get tourists, college kids, surfers, and locals. It never crossed my mind to worry about Tatum getting hit on at work, but what if this wasn’t the first time?
My shift might be over, but I can’t leave yet.
We shuffle to the side. I clear my throat and grab fresh utensils from the galvanized tins in a cupboard against the wall.
“I’m gonna eat first. I’ll catch you later.”
Jackson shrugs. “See you. Later, Tate.”
He messes with Tatum’s bun as she comes back through the door. She automatically kicks at him in retaliation without losing her balance.
I wait until he’s gone before I sit down at an open table in the corner. It has a good vantage point of the whole place, so I can keep an eye on anyone who’s dumb enough to make Tatum uncomfortable.
SIXTEEN
COOPER
After two of ourstudy sessions, my dick is already trained to take notice when Tatum’s in my room. Tonight we’re actually studying, books and the blank notebooks she brought for me spread across my desk.
“It takes some getting used to, but when you use it to track your weekly tasks, I think it’ll help you stay on top of your assignments throughout the semester.” She waves her hands as she talks, explaining the concept of bullet journaling to me. There were YouTube videos and an Instagram hashtag involved. “Of course, I don’t recommend setting it up like mine unless you’re super committed to this level of habit tracking.”
I chew on the inside of my lip, flicking my gaze to her face. My head is propped against my hand and I listen better to her talking passionately about utilizing notebooks than I manage to pay attention to any of my professors. If she taught all my classes, I’d have no problem passing. She explains everything in a succinct, straightforward way that’s much easier for my brain to grasp than the dull drone of most of my professors.
“What?” Tatum’s cheeks flush. “What’s that look for?”
“Nothing.” I give her a crooked smile. “You really take this seriously. Thanks. I feel like I can do this with your help. Turn my grades around, not screw up, you know.”
“Of course you can, Coop.” Her smile makes my chest ache. “You’re really smart. I have complete faith in you. From what I can tell by going over your papers from freshman year, you understand the material, you just absorb it differently than most people. There’s nothing wrong with that. Everyone processes differently. School systems just end up going with what works for the majority, but that doesn’t leave a lot of leeway for students who are more drawn to other forms of learning.”
This girl. I swallow roughly and cover up the way I want to kiss her by flipping through the template pages she set up in a plain black journal. It’s not like any of the ones she collects, no distinct patterns, sassy messages, or pops of color. But it was brand new. She picked it out for me.
