The Failing Hours (How to Date a Douchebag #2)(73)

I don’t have to reply, because my eye roll speaks volumes. Crossing my arms, I glare.

“Your Darth Vader death stare doesn’t intimidate me,” he drones, unimpressed. “Just say please and we won’t embarrass you when your girlfriend gets here.”

My lips part, mouth clamps shut. Opens. Jaw clenches. Nostrils flare.

Violet zigzags her way across the room, sights set on me, timidly approaching with a warm smile on her lips.

“Shut up. Please.”

Ozzy and Rex Gunderson cackle like a pair of washwomen, Oz tipping back in his chair.

“Did you hear that Rexy? Daniels just said please! Holy shit, that’s gotta be a record for something. Write that down somewhere. I—” His voice breaks off when Violet reaches the table.

“Hi guys. Zeke.”

Oz and Rex wait for me to say something, one of them kicking my shin under the table.

I dig way down deep and come up with “Hey.”

Violet shifts on her heels, lips rubbing together. “Hey.” Her eyes twinkle, amused.

“How’s it going, Violet? It’s Violet, right?” Gunderson asks, his stupid face lit up with a stupid grin. The idiot is smiling ear to ear and gives me another kick under the table.

“Yes. Hi, we haven’t met.” She extends her hand and he takes it, first to shake it, and then to kiss her wrist.

“My cherie, a pleasure.”

Violet giggles, taking back her hand, her light laugh indicating that she’s entertained. “Very charming.”

Oz groans. “Ignore him please; he’s a moron, which explains why he can’t make the wrestling team.” He looks her up and down, smiling a crocodile smile that drops panties all over campus. “You working?”

“Yes, but only for another hour.” She shoots me a sidelong glance. “No appointments today.”

“Zeke says you’re his tutor,” Rex says. “What subjects do you tute?”

“A-All of them.”

“All of them? Like—all of them?”

“I guess I shouldn’t say all,” she amends. “I should say, most.”

“Maybe I should hire you.” Gunderson waggles his brows at her, the little fucker. “I need serious help with chemistry.”

“S-Sure,” Violet stutters. “You can check the schedule at the circulation desk and arrange it.”

“What if I pay you on the side? That’s what Daniels does, isn’t it?” The little asshole isn’t talking about tutoring anymore, and everyone knows it. “Do you take side jobs?”

“Enough with the questions Rex. Jesus, give it a rest,” I snap, ball cap coming off, fingers raking through my dark hair. “Leave her alone.”

Oz clucks his tongue. “Now, now, don’t be like that.” He looks up at Violet. “He doesn’t like sharing—not the keys to his truck, not his clothes, not his tutor.”

He uses air quotes around the word tutor and winks.

If I thought Violet was red before, it’s nothing compared to how bright her cheeks are now; the blush extends down into the neckline of her shirt, and I swear even the pale skin of her arms begins to color.

She’s met him a few times when he’s been on his best behavior, in the company of his new girlfriend; she doesn’t know the idiot is a total pervert.

Oz looks at me. Looks at Violet. Looks at me, pencil limply flopping in the air to illustrate his point. “We have an away meet this week but our next match is home. You going to come cheer your boy on?”

Rex looks confused. “Why would your tutor come to our wrestling meets?”

Oz’s sigh is so loud and drawn out, several people turn to stare at us. “Gunderson, try to keep up. They’re dating.”

“We’re not dating.” Not exactly. The hasty denial slips off my tongue. Out of my lips.

I sound petty and childish, and shift my gaze to the notebook in front of me, eyes trained on the paragraphs I wrote just hours ago. I refuse to meet Violet’s hurt hazel eyes as she stands next to the table, spine ramrod straight, listening to the interaction intently. Waiting for me to say something to her.

Except now I’m too pissed to do anything but sit here, seething.

“Whoa.” Rex shoots Violet a sidelong glance. “Is he this big a dick when you’re studying?”

Why are they doing this to me?

Oh! I get it—this is because I’m such an asshole to Jameson. Well joke’s on him, because I’m not giving in to his word bait. I’m not going to lose my cool. No fucking way. Let him poke the hornet’s nest and see how well it ends.

I cross my arms, steaming.

“You, Violet, must be a saint,” Oz teases her. “Even his friends can’t stand him, yet you’re voluntarily spending time with him.”

Even his friends can’t stand him?

“What the hell kind of dig is that?”

“It wasn’t a dig,” he deadpans. “It’s a fact.”

“You are such a dick.”

“Maybe, but I’m not the one sitting here ignoring his girl that’s a “friend” or whatever you want to call it. You are.”

I realize I am, in fact, still ignoring Violet, who is standing at the table looking perplexed. Maybe even a little hurt.