Page 32 of Playing Hard to Get


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“The first couple?”

“The first.” He hesitates. “Half of it.” Another hesitation. “Okay, only a couple of pages.”

Reaching out, I grab the book, studying the cover. “I read this when I was in high school.”

His expression turns hopeful. “Maybe you could give me a quick summary.”

The look I send him says,Yeah. No.

“There’s also a movie.”

His brows draw together. “No shit? I should watch it.”

“It doesn’t follow the book exactly. No movie made from a book ever does.” I set the book down, wondering if I’d blow his mind by admitting I read this book by choice. For pleasure. “It’s really good.”

“I’m sure it is. I was just glad to see a book written in the twenty-first century was the chosen reading material. Everything else is old as hell.”

“They’re classics, those old books. That’s why teachers usually assign them.”

“More like decrepit. We need some new blood up in here. It’s a modern world. Shouldn’t we be reading and discussing current problems?” Knox’s brows shoot up in question.

He’s making a valid point, but we’re not here to talk about that.

Opening my iPad, I go to the notes section where I have a page prepared for Knox and make some additions. “Before we start talking about the book and your assignments, can we talk about you for a minute?”

His grin turns downright…wolfish. If that’s such a thing. “Sure.”

“What’s your favorite subject in school?”

“Sports. Physical education.”

I send him an irritated look. “That doesn’t count.”

“It should.”

“Knox.”

“Fine, fine. I like…” He props his elbow on the table and settles his chin on his fist, thinking. It’s a good look for him. “Math. Numbers don’t lie. And they’re easy to read.”

He has a point.

I add math as his favorite subject along with theeasy-to-readcomment to my notes. He hasn’t come out and said he has an issue. Yet. Most don’t like to face it. They find it shameful, when really, it’s not.

“And I like history, but mostly in documentary form. The textbooks would always freak me out. They’re so long.” Knox grimaces, and I almost feel sorry for him.

I make note of what he said, typing in all the new information before I glance up at him. “What’s your least favorite subject?”

He makes a face. “English.”

I can’t stop the small laugh that leaves me. “I should’ve known.”

“Yeah, you should’ve.” He studies me. “You have a nice laugh.”

My cheeks go hot and I stare at my iPad screen, afraid to look at him. “Why don’t you like English?”

“I’m not a good reader.”

Ah, there it is.

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