Addicted to You (Addicted #1)(54)
“I think so.” I take a peek at the clock. Connor must be waiting, counting the seconds, each tick another point off my future exam.
Lo places his hands on my neck and inspects me closely. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine.” I glance hesitantly at the door, wanting to do things with Lo but not having the time. Not with my tutor in the kitchen.
Lo suddenly understands my reservations. “I’ll distract him for twenty minutes, and you can stay in here and watch something. I’ll bring you a tape from your room.”
“Really?” My face brightens.
He breaks into a small smile for the first time today, genuinely happy to help. “Really, really. Any preferences? Role playing, oral, BDSM?” He goes to the door, about to dig through my porn videos.
“Surprise me.”
His grin widens. Moments later, he returns with three DVDs. His eyes dance mischievously as he hands them over. Scanning the titles, I find the source of his amusement.
“Anal?” I say, smacking him on the arm with the plastic cases.
He kisses me lightly on the cheek and gives my butt a small pat. “Don’t have too much fun without me.” He stops by the door. “Anything I should know about your tutor before I talk his ear off?”
Now I can’t help but laugh. “He says mildly offensive things. He thinks he’s smarter than everyone on the planet—that’s not an exaggeration. And he knows Rose.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “How does he know Rose?”
“Apparently, they met at an Academic Bowl competition. I don’t think they talk or anything, so you’re in the clear.”
“Good to know.” He creeps out of the room, leaving me to my own devices.
And I let all my troubles float away, even Lo’s story, last night’s events, and my impending failing grade. For this small moment, I just feel good.
*
Twenty minutes later and down from my high, I feel stupid. For taking a porn break during a study session with my tutor. The only way I justify my actions and not turn into a cherry red tomato is by remembering that I wouldn’t be able to memorize facts without feeding my compulsion.
I wash my hands, grab a Diet Fizz from Lo’s fridge, and gently close the door behind me. In the hallway, Lo and Connor’s voices breeze through, making me stop by the wall.
“Definitely B,” Lo says. “A, C, and D don’t even make sense.” Is he studying or talking about breast sizes?
“That’s right.” Connor sounds proud, a reaction that I couldn’t squeeze from him. Definitely studying. “Good job. You know you’re not half bad. If you weren’t so lazy, you’d probably reach the class average.” Reach the class average? Even though Lo barely mentions his grades, I thought he was doing better than that. Like gold-star worthy scores.
“Do you think I’m too dumb to notice that you just called me an idiot or do you just not care?” Lo asks.
“Honestly,” Connor says, “I don’t care.”
“Huh…” Lo mutters. I imagine his forehead wrinkling as he tries to process Connor Cobalt and his blunt (sometimes incorrect) honesty.
“Lily was pretty worried last night. We wasted a lot of studying hours looking for you. Where’d you end up going?”
“Wait,” Lo says in disbelief. “You helped look for me?”
I had the same reaction when he offered to search for Lo. It barely fazes Connor that accompanying someone he hardly knows to hunt for a drunken boyfriend isn’t at all ordinary.
“Yeah,” Connor says. “We tried the highlighter party on campus, but you weren’t there. I ruined a pair of pants doing it. Girls always go right for my ass. I don’t get it.”
“Lily didn’t hit on anyone, did she?”
I should be hurt that he doesn’t fully trust me. But I’m glad he’s cautious of my fidelity. It means he cares. And it’ll make me try harder to be faithful.
“Why would she do that?” Connor asks. “You two are together, right?”
“Newly together. We’re trying to work through some things.” Wow, Lo doesn’t lie. Does Connor Cobalt have magic truth dust that he sprinkles on people? Or maybe it’s too hard to lie to his brutal honesty.
“So, where’d you go?” Connor nudges.
“A bar down the street.”
I wish I could eavesdrop for another twenty minutes, but I do need to pass the class. I pad further down the hallway and make my presence known.
Lo spins around on the bar stool, holding the neck of his beer. When Connor turns, I notice an identical Fat Tire in his own hand. He can drink and study? Is he a superhero or something?
“Feeling better?” Lo asks with concern, hinting at a lie he must have used for Connor’s benefit.
“It was probably all the caffeine,” Connor tells me. “If you’re not used to Red Bull and coffee together, it can upset your stomach. I should have brought some antacids.”
The tops of my ears warm in a rash-like red, never wishing to hear someone talk about my indigestion—fake or not. And the fact that Connor’s tutoring methods involve cycles between caffeine and antacids is mildly disconcerting.
“You’re flushing oddly. Do you have a fever?” Connor asks, not embarrassed by anything. Maybe he thinks other people are immune to that sentiment too. For me, not so much. My shoulders cave forward, like a turtle creeping back into its shell.