Little Lies(28)

It takes me a while to find Kodiak. He’s in the shadows, sitting on one of the stools behind the pool bar, forearms on the bar top, his expression grim. The blonde is nowhere to be found. He’s wearing his ball cap now, so I can’t see his face, but it feels like his eyes are on me. Although it always feels that way when he’s around.

The blonde appears out of the shadows and drapes herself over him. I watch every muscle in his body tense for a few long seconds before he finally gives her his attention. She lifts his ball cap from his head and puts it on her own. She shimmies her way between the bar top and the stool and rests her forearms on his shoulders.

And of course he lets her. Why wouldn’t he?

I don’t stick around to see more.

I may always be a silent observer, but masochism has never been my jam.

I tell myself this is a good reminder.

The only person who can save me from myself is me. No point in wallowing in the past and the things I can’t get back. I probably shouldn’t want them anyway.





Chapter Ten


Nope

Lavender

Present day

THE NEXT MORNING I get up early, but my brothers are long gone. Despite the fact that they were up late last night, Mav is already at hockey practice and River is likely on the football field.

I pull one of my favorite dresses over my head. I have lunch plans with Lovey and Lacey after my morning class.

I start with a visit to student services, embarrassed that I have to solicit help to make it through the most basic economics class a college can offer. Back in high school, I once used the school tutoring services. I was paired with this sweet, nerdy girl named Michelle who was in love with Maverick, so most of the two tutoring sessions we had revolved around her asking questions about my brother, rather than helping me. I decided it wasn’t worth the hassle and had River do my homework for me instead.

The guy sitting at the student services desk doesn’t look anything like the nice, nerdy girl who tutored me before. That he’s a he, not a she, is obviously a factor. However, so is the fact that he’s built like a brick shithouse. His sweatshirt has RUGBY stamped across the front, so I’m guessing he’s on the school team—not a hockey player, which is an automatic thumbs-up in my book. Interestingly, his name does not match the rest of him.

“Hello. Welcome to student services. How can we be of assistance?” Merlin asks.

I look around for another person to complete the “we” component, but there doesn’t seem to be anyone but him in the office. I have to clear my throat so I can speak above a whisper. “Uh, hi. I was told I could access tutoring services for economics here.”

He smiles and laces his fingers together, propping his forearms on the desk. They’re thicker than my thighs. “You sure can! We have a variety of students in senior-level classes as well as master’s programs who may be able to assist you. Do you have a copy of your schedule so I can check availability for you?”

Wow, he’s super nice. And extra friendly. Maybe this won’t be so bad. “Oh, yeah, of course.” I let my backpack slide down my arm and plop it on his desk, nearly knocking over his coffee mug.

He moves it out of the way and motions to the chair behind me, still smiling. “You can have a seat. It might be safer.”

“Oh, right. Yeah. Thanks. Sorry.” I drop down in the chair and rummage around until I find my schedule. I smooth out the rumpled paper and pass it over. I guess I could’ve just as easily showed it to him on my laptop, but I always have a paper copy in case of tech fail.

He scans my schedule, his smile easy. He has a big chip out of one of his front teeth. “You’re freshmeat?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

His gaze lifts. “A freshman?”

I must be hearing things. I’m blaming it on lack of sleep. And living with a bunch of jocks. “Uh, sophomore. I transferred this year, but I have a first-year class I need to complete.”

“Ah, makes sense. How are you liking it here so far . . . Lavender? Is that your real name?”

“Um, yup. My mom likes purple and uh . . . so far I like it okay—aside from economics, anyway.” I clasp my hands together to keep from picking at my nails.

“I like purple too.” He gives me a flirty wink. “And econ can be a tough one. I’m a history major, so the numbers I deal with are mostly dates, you know?”

I nod. My mouth is dry, and my hands are clammy. I don’t deal well with blatant flirting. Especially not from jock types, because they might look nice, but they’re often players, and full of themselves.

When I don’t offer any words to go with my nod, Merlin turns to his computer. “Let me see who matches your schedule availability.” He clicks away for a minute and mutters something under his breath that sounds a lot like “lucky fucker.” But I could be paranoid and hearing things.

“I think I found someone for you.” He spins around in his chair and brings his fingers to his lips, whistling shrilly. “Hey, Bowman, I got a new student to introduce you to!”

My already-dry mouth feels full of sand, and a bead of sweat trickles down my spine. “Bowman?”

It’s a fairly common last name. There’s no way Kodiak has time to tutor students. And definitely not Intro to Macroeconomics. That would be a colossal waste of his incredibly huge, brilliant, asshole brain.