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"No one would believe it," Mr Leggit said. "For the record, I'd deny it."
"I wouldn't print it anyway," I assured him.
Conrad looked surprised, but it only lasted for a moment. His expression quickly changed to, 'Of course she'd be involved with the paper, she’s a nerd.'
Yeah, I thought,I'm a nerd, but that nerd is gonna save your ass from getting kicked off the football team.
He might not be grateful now, but some day…
Chapter Four
CONRAD
Of course Miss Top of the Class was on time. Her face was red from the cold air. I assumed she’d walked from her house to mine.
If I was honest, she was kinda cute, but totally not my type. The girls I dated were athletic: cheerleaders, girls from the school baseball team, an ice skater one time. Not the kind who had their nose in a book, or who worked on the school paper.
I guessed she was involved with that somehow, from the expression on her face the other day. I don’t know, that wasn’t my thing either.
I opened the door. "Come on in." I stepped back, leaving her to come inside and close it behind her.
"Um, thanks." She sounded uncomfortable, but I didn't turn around to look. If she didn’t want to be here, she was free to leave.
I led her to the living area and flopped down on the couch. I propped my feet on the coffee table and crossed my arms.
"So, you're here to lick me?" I gave her a sly smile. It widened to a grin when she blushed. She was either really innocent or… No, that was about it.
I couldn't picture her being the kind of girl who slept around. Not that enjoying sex was a bad thing, but she seemed like the shy kind. If this was a bad movie from the 1990s, I'd make a wager with my friends that I could get her into bed. Instead, I made a wager with myself. Let's see how long she could hold out before she put out. I bet she made cute noises when she came.
"I'm here to help you with your English work," she said, her tone brisk. Had she learned that tone from Mr Leggit? "And make sure you don't rush this time."
"Is this where you tell me I can't pay you to do my work for me?" I was almost certain she couldn't be paid off, but a guy had to try. Right?
"I wasn't going to insult your intelligence by saying that," she said. "But for the record, no."
"No?" I moved over to make room for her on the couch. "Are you sure?"
She sat down as far from me as she could get. "I'm absolutely sure. Your next piece of work is a poetry analysis?"
"Are you asking me, or telling me?" I asked.
She sighed. "If you're going to be like this all night, we'll be here forever." She seemed genuinely pissed off.
I smiled to myself. Getting under her skin might be my favourite new hobby.
"Yes, it's a poetry analysis. Yes, I have read the poem," I added in the hope of scoring some brownie points. Maybe she'd go easy on me if she saw I was making an effort.
She looked surprised. "You have? Have you…got any thoughts about it?"
I did have a few, but I didn't want to let on that I actually liked the poem. The Dragonflies quarterback was no poetry nerd. No fucking way. I'd never live it down.
"I dunno." I pulled out a piece of paper with the poem on it, and a notebook. "It seems like a really long way to say ‘I’m sad,’ to me."
She smiled.
For a moment, I was caught up in how pretty she was when she smiled. I hadn't noticed how blue her eyes were, or the soft curl of her blonde hair. Her face was covered in a light layer of freckles, especially over her turned up nose. Her rosebud mouth would look incredible around my cock.
Focus, I told myself.
