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“Getting some practice, Thomas?” I ask. “Are you going to bless us all right now?”
“Never too early to start.”
I have so many questions. But first things first.
“Gentlemen,” I say, “I’d like to rewind a bit. Now that Green, or should I say Don, is gone, are you really going to help me with calculus? Or were you just saying that to look good in front of him?”
They look at me. And say nothing.
Fuckers.
I knew it.
I point a finger at them. “Wow. You didn’t mean a word of it. You are just as asshole-ish as the teacher.” I hoist my backpack on my shoulders and head for the door.
“Brown-nosers,” I mumble, pushing the door so hard it bangs open against the wall, catching the attention of everyone in the crowded hallway.
“Hey. Hold up,” John yells after me. “Let’s talk about this.”
I turn around, hands on hips. “What is there to say?”
He gestures for me to return.
Thomas taps his fingers on the podium, which he is still standing behind like he’s about to deliver a sermon. “We… have an idea. You need help with something. We need help with something.”
What do they need help with…? Oh shit. That?
Matthew approaches me, his T-shirt straining over his rocky pecs. Damn him.
“As you know, our lives as young bachelors are coming to an end soon. We were thinking maybe you could help us… celebrate?”
He raises one eyebrow as if to say get what I mean?
Of course I get what he means.
I’m lying if I don’t admit I am intrigued. These guys are hot, no doubt about that, and although they are on their way to God School, after this year I’ll never see them again.
What further makes their offer appealing is my desperate need for some nooky. It might be forbidden here, but there’s got to be a place on this campus where people are getting laid.
I lean against the blackboard, shoulders back, chest out, one hip lazily extended in the hope it makes me look slimmer, and cock my head as if I get offers like this all the time. Like these guys are boring me with their lack of imagination when it comes to the seductive arts. As if I have men offering me things all the time in exchange for my company and if these three are indeed serious, they’d better sweeten the pot.
Of course, none of that is true.
“I’ll tell you what,” I say. “You help me first, and we’ll see if it brings my grade up or not. Then, we’ll talk.”
They look at each other and nod, and I swear I catch John checking out my breasts.
Really? These guys are going to be freaking priests?
Matthew shrugs with one shoulder. “Let’s get going then. If your grades are as bad as you say they are, we have a lot of catching up to do.”
I suppress a snicker. They have no freaking idea.
“Great. We’ll start tonight then.”
“Hello, Mom.”
I brace myself for the barrage of insults that is to follow, both subtle and not-so-subtle.
