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“Um, okay then.” Taking a deep breath in, I slowly let it out, trying not to make a sound and have him notice. My nerves are all jumbled around, and I’ve forgotten what subject we’re supposed to be studying.
Camden grabs the American Lit textbook from his backpack, and I follow his lead, grabbing my own. Luckily, I’m in the same class, so it will help with the assignments he has any questions about. Not my luck that I now have to spend an unknown amount of time with the guy I have not been able to stop thinking about for days and would like to avoid.
“You know, when I came here, I assumed my tutor would be some pimple-faced, glasses-wearing nerd. This comes as a surprise, MissWentworth,” he says my last name with a cocky tone.
My eyebrows rise in surprise. “How’d you find out my last name?” Last weekend when I told him I wasn’t on social media, it was not a lie. No Facebook, Instagram, or Twitter. All that was gone the moment I started college and wanted a fresh start.
“Professor Darfman’s discussion board,” he says in a matter-of-fact way. “Since you were sticking to your guns and wouldn’t tell me when I asked at your apartment yesterday, I had to resort to snooping. Our lovely professor has all the students’ names and emails on there. Took me some time, since the Ws are so far at the bottom and he had a ridiculous amount of students, but I eventually got there.”
Wow. Can’t deny he is a determined one. “I applaud the use of resources and creativity,” I tell him. “Now Michael told me you’re here for English. That’s not my strongest subject, but I’m sure I will be able to help.”
Camden stares straight into my eyes while I talk, without breaking contact. Something tingles in the depths of my stomach at the way he looks at me. An almost awkward amount of time goes by before either of us says anything.
“I’ve never seen someone with such unique eyes,” he says. “Are they…gray?”
I can’t help but drop my head down. My eyes have always been my most unique feature, one I got from my mom. When I was younger, everyone—from strangers to friends—would comment about how my mother and I were twins with our gray eyes and dark brown hair with natural highlights. That was, until my mother started graying and went mostly blond.
Warm fingers clasp my chin, and he slowly lifts my head up, bringing my face back in front of his. I can’t help but notice I do not have the normal repulsed feeling I get when people touch me.
“Don’t do that,” he says. “I like looking at your eyes. They’re so unique, I was starting to wonder if they were contacts.”
I smile and he releases my chin. “You would be surprised at how often people say that to my mom and me.” I laugh, thinking about a time my mom got up close and personal with someone who didn’t believe her and my mother, who has put etiquette above anything else, made a point to touch her eye to prove there were no contacts there.
Camden smiles. “Definitely nice to see.”
I grab my English textbook. “Well, seeing as the semester just started, I’m going to assume you don’t need help with assignments?”
Shaking his head, Camden lets out a laugh. “No, no. I only have two difficult classes this semester and struggled with English last year. Wanted to get ahead of it. Coach has been on my ass about my grades since freshman year. Hoping to impress him this year.”
“What is your major?”
The excitement on his face is cute. “Kinesiology. The human body is fascinating, and I would love to do that if my plan A doesn’t work out.”
My interest is piqued at the mention of his plan. “You play a sport for the school.” It’s more of a statement and less of a question.
He answers anyway. “Yeah, soccer. You’re looking at the team captain and left striker, baby.” He leans back in his chair and clasps his hands behind his head, smiling proudly. “You should come to our first game. Seeing as how our two friends seem to be all over each other, I assume she’ll be going as well.”
“I’ve never been to a sports game,” I tell him quietly.
He smiles. “Well, we’re just going to have to rectify that, now, aren’t we?” After a short pause, he asks, “What about you? What degree are you working for?”
Smiling, I answer, “Teaching. Hopefully, middle or high school math.”
His eyebrows widen. “Wow, that would be great. I guess this tutoring is good practice for you then.”
“Pretty much. I have always felt this urge to teach and help people and would love to be able to work with kids.”
He smiles and studies my face but does not respond. The corners of my mouth lift, matching his. Camden has an infectious smile and by the look in his eyes, I can tell he knows this.
Clearing my head, I grab the class syllabus. “Enough chit-chat. How about we get an early start on the final class assignment since it is worth thirty percent of your grade? We talked a little about it during our study night, but I’m assuming you haven’t picked a book yet?” I ask him.
The class assignment is something we discussed on Monday night. The same assignment that only I even knew about. Camden, especially, seemed less than enthusiastic about the essay about an influential American author novel.
“All these books sound boring as hell,” he says after reading through the list our professor provided. “I don’t get why we have to continue reading these books from over a hundred years ago. I’m sure there’re newer authors we could be studying who are much more entertaining.”
I can’t help but smile at his mini rant because he has a valid point. “Yes, but then we wouldn’t sound as sophisticated if we didn’t read a classic likeThe Catcher in the RyeorTheScarlet Letter.” Glancing down at the list of novels, one catches my eye. “Hey, what aboutThe Great Gatsby? That may keep your attention. Millionaires, extravagant parties, and sex? What guy wouldn’t enjoy that? Plus, S. Scott Fitzgerald is an excellent writer.”
He thinks it over. “Wait, is that the one about that guy who snorts coke off a chick’s ass?” he asks.
