Playing Hard to Get(44)

Not too far from the truth. Just close enough to be believable.

“You’re not a dumbass, Knox. No one thinks you are.”

“I want to keep this private.”

“All right, all right. I won’t say a word. You know you can trust me.” He pulls into his assigned parking spot and shifts the truck into park before shutting off the engine. “How’s that going anyway? The tutoring?”

Fucking fantastic. A few sessions in and I know what she sounds like when she moans while I kiss her. I’m learning a lot.

“Fine.” I shrug. “I hate English.”

“Is she helping you?”

“Yeah. She’s really smart, and she’s taught me a few tricks to help with my reading. You know, with the dyslexia and all, it’s not always easy.”

It’s embarrassing, having to admit that. Even after knowing for all of these years that I have this issue, I don’t like talking about it. Not even to my best friend.

“That’s great, man. I’m glad she’s helping out. And hey.” I lift my gaze to his. “You can trust me to keep this quiet. I don’t want to blow your cover. If you want to keep the tutoring thing to yourself, I can respect that.”

“Thanks.” I nod as I reach for the door handle. “I appreciate it.”

“Of course. And any time you need me to watch over Blair, I’ve got you. I was just giving you shit about her.”

“I know.”

“She’s got a good head on her shoulders, though. She’s not going to fall for just any jackass football player.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I need to trust her more.” I nod, knowing he’s speaking the truth.

Also knowing I won’t necessarily do it. It’s hard, letting my sister make her own decisions, especially when it comes to guys. I know what they’re like.

Me. and I’m the worst.

I can’t help that I feel so overprotective of my little sister. I know the assholes that are on our team, who I hang out with. They don’t give a damn about her feelings—just like I don’t give a damn about anyone but myself.

The guys on my team? They just want to get into a girl’s panties. They’re all looking for a hookup and that’s it.

Just like I used to. But I don’t want that anymore. All I want now is…

Joanna.





SEVENTEEN





JOANNA





I don’t know what to do about Knox Maguire.

I went to the advisor who is in charge of the tutoring program first thing Monday morning and asked if I would be able to pair him with another tutor. I know it’s a cowardly thing to do, but I can’t imagine facing him in our meeting room after everything that’s happened. Not just the last time we met, but also at the bar after the game. When he followed me into the bathroom and we were interrupted by those girls walking in.

What would’ve happened if they hadn’t walked in? I was turning toward him, ready to seek out his perfect lips. I would’ve kissed him like the fool I am. I would’ve done whatever he wanted me to do, no questions asked, only for him to treat me like another one of his hookups. He would’ve walked away from me without a problem. I know he would’ve. I don’t matter that much to him. Do I?

I’m so glad I didn’t kiss him, despite how badly I wanted to see if his lips tasted just as good as I remembered.

Waking up Sunday with a horrible hangover and plenty of regret, I knew then I had to make some big changes. Like getting rid of Knox as one of my students.

But that didn’t work. The advisor informed me that there is no one else available to take over his tutoring sessions. I can either continue on and finish out the semester with him, or quit like a total loser and force him to figure out another plan to get through his English class.

I can’t just abandon him when he struggles with English so much. It’s one thing to hand him over to someone else. It’s another thing entirely to just leave him without any help like some sort of heartless savage.

Now it’s Tuesday afternoon and I’m entering the library full of trepidation. I couldn’t sleep last night. After tossing and turning for what felt like hours, I finally gave in and grabbed my phone. I ended up writing out an entire planned speech to Knox in my notes section. It’s all about how we should just have a professional relationship and I don’t need to go watch him at his football games or hang out with him socially. We can meet twice a week for an hour, I can help him with any of his English homework or papers, and that’s it.

We crossed a line and I still feel terrible about it, but it will never happen again. I’m stronger than that, and so is he. We know how to handle ourselves in a professional manner. We’re adults, for God’s sake. This doesn’t need to be a problem.

I’m fifteen minutes early for our appointment and I know no one else uses our reserved room for at least a half hour before our scheduled time, so I’m shocked to find the room already occupied.

Then I realize it’s Knox sitting at the table. Seemingly waiting for me.

“Oh.” I stop in the doorway of the room. I’d hoped to gear myself up for this little discussion I have planned. I was even going to go over my notes. “Hi.”

His expression is grim, and his hair is a mess, like he ran his fingers through it again and again and possibly even tugged on the ends. There are dark circles under his eyes and there’s scruff on his cheeks and chin as if he hasn’t shaved for days.