Playing Hard to Get(27)

“For what?” I rise to my feet at the same time she does.

“Another tutoring session.” She grabs her bag, slinging the strap over her shoulder. “I’ll see you later!”

She’s gone before I can say anything else.





ELEVEN





JOANNA





The weekend goes by in a blur of work, writing two papers and hanging out with Natalie and a group of our friends Saturday night for dinner. Sunday is for laundry and cleaning up around the apartment. Monday is just…your typical Monday, and by the time Tuesday rolls around, I’m once again a nervous wreck.

Stupid Knox Maguire choosing me as his tutor. I lied to him about having another tutoring session. I just wanted to get out of there and away from him and his muscles and charm and his smile. I should back out. Say my schedule doesn’t align with his after all, and that he’ll need to find another tutor to help him. He’d understand, I’m sure.

Of course, I do none of those things, and by the time it’s the afternoon, fifteen minutes before two, I’m sitting in our reserved room, reading over the notes I made about him on my iPad, anxiously checking the door every few seconds like he’s going to show up early.

Much to my surprise, he strides into the room ten minutes early. He stops on the other side of the table, dropping his heavy backpack on the table with a loud thunk before unzipping it.

So far he hasn’t said a word and neither have I, which gives me time to watch him. He’s wearing a long-sleeved white T-shirt and black shorts, even though there’s a chill in the air. Oh, and he’s wearing a white baseball cap backwards, his hair sticking out in wayward curls at his nape.

I sink my teeth into my lower lip, unable to look away from his curling hair. The backwards hat on—it’s a total weakness of mine. I used to love it when Bryan wore a hat like that. He played baseball during high school and I wasted a lot of time sitting in the stands, watching him.

God, baseball is so boring.

“Jo Jo, what’s up?”

I snap my attention back to Knox, meeting his gaze, his brow furrowed as he watches me. “Oh. Hey.”

“You all right there? I called your name three times.”

That’s embarrassing. “My name isn’t Jo Jo.” I sit up straighter.

“I said Joanna the first two times, not Jo Jo.”

“Oh. Sorry about that.” I clear my throat. “How was your weekend?”

“Good.” He pulls out the chair across from mine and settles in, his knees bumping mine, making me shift to the side. “We won.”

“I heard.” It’s hard to avoid all of the conversations about the game while on campus. “You scored a touchdown.”

He grins and I blink, momentarily dazzled. “You watched the game?”

I shake my head. “I don’t like football, remember?”

“Right.” He stretches out the word, dropping the paperback onto the middle of the table. “I listened to the chapters we were assigned during the ride back from the game Saturday night. You were correct—it’s a lot easier, listening to the audiobook. I feel like I understand it better when someone else reads it to me.”

Pride suffuses me and I smile at him. “I’m glad it helped.”

“It totally did. I have an assignment due Thursday. I need to come up with an opening paragraph for an essay,” he says.

“What’s the essay about?”

“We’re supposed to answer a question.” He flips open a notebook and clears his throat. “Discuss the differences between Starr’s two lives. How does she reconcile her two identities over the course of the novel?”

I’m frowning. “But you haven’t finished the novel yet.”

“She only wants a first paragraph, like with the thesis question. She said we can figure that out without reading the entire book yet.”

“Okay. Maybe we should discuss some of the themes the novel explores.”

We do exactly that and I’m quietly impressed with Knox’s assessment of the book. For someone who claims he’s terrible at English and doesn’t comprehend much, he’s doing a terrific job talking about the book and debating the subject matter.

He keeps distracting me though. He’ll stretch his leg out, his foot nudging against mine almost on purpose. I pull away every time it happens, outwardly not reacting, but eventually, I give in. I keep my leg in place, his foot gently hitting mine before resting next to it. I’m wearing a dress—fine, I wore something nicer than usual for my meeting with Knox—and at one point, I feel his bare leg brush against mine, the curling hairs tickling my skin.

I still don’t move, but I do go quiet, glancing down at my iPad and making a few notes that make no sense before I lift my gaze to Knox.

To find him already watching me, his body completely still, his warm leg practically wrapped around mine.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, not moving. Not sounding even one bit sorry.

I very carefully, very purposely, place my shoe on top of his and press down. “You’re invading my space.”

“I tend to do that sometimes.” He shrugs. “I don’t mean to, but I kind of spread out without knowing I’m doing it.”

“You are tall.” I say this like it’s an excuse, and his eyes warm. “And…long.”