Slow Play (The Rules #3)(32)

“So?”

I say nothing, leaping from the chair when I hear my name called. I grab my drink from the counter and head back to our table, hoping the triple espresso shot I added to my regular PSL will do the trick and wake me up.

Yet again another bad night of restless sleep. What a surprise. All I could do was run over everything that happened in my mind, the moments playing in a constant loop. The kiss. The kisses. I couldn’t let those go when I should. I so should. He’s such a player he’s probably already kissed two girls since he was last with me. The *.

Tristan is going to drive me to taking sleeping pills I’m sure.

“Is ten really too early for you on a Sunday morning?” Kelli asks when I settle back in at our table. She sounds concerned, which is hilarious. Though Mama Kelli does rear her ugly head on such occasions.

“Well, yeah. With school and now my new work schedule in the mix, I think Sunday’s going to end up being my one morning I get to really sleep in, you know? So I want to savor my delicious warm bed, not worry about studying for our stupid stats quiz. I worked really hard yesterday. I was tired, you saw me.” Well, that’s not necessarily a lie. I was tired after working yesterday. But it was Tristan who kept me awake. Tristan and his magic hands and lips and words…oh, his words.

They are the worst. Yet they’re also such an incredible turn-on. What guy tells you he’s not nice? That he just takes what he wants?

A hot guy like Tristan, that’s who.

“We never did talk about your first day on the job.” Kelli takes a sip of her drink. “How was it?”

“I liked it. The owner, Sandie, is really nice and easy to talk to. She’s giving me around fifteen hours a week at first and she’ll give me a few more if I think I can handle it.”

“That’s awesome. I’m so happy for you!” Kelli leans over and grabs her backpack, unzipping it so she can pull out our statistics book. “You ready for this?”

No. I never will be either. I despise this class. “Isn’t it counterproductive to cram for a test in the morning when we won’t be taking it until at least twenty four hours later? Actually closer to thirty six?”

“It was the only time I could fit this in. I have to write a paper this afternoon. I’m meeting with my study group over at the library.” Kelli flips open her book and grimaces at what greets her. “God, what does all this stuff even mean?”

“You don’t know?” I chug half my PSL as quick as possible, needing that extra caffeine to jolt my system awake. “Why am I studying with you again?”

“Because I have the hook up.” Kelli’s sly smile tells me everything I need to know without wasting a word. “He should be here any minute.”

Oh. Crap. She’s talking about…

“I’m going to kill you,” I mutter as I cross my arms onto the table and let my head fall on top of it. Damn it, he better not show up. I don’t want to see him. My lack of sleep is all his fault and I look like ass because of it so I’m blaming him for that too.

He’s going to take the blame for everything right now and I don’t feel one ounce of guilt over it either.

“Good morning, ladies.”

His deep, slightly rough, totally sexy voice is super close and I lift my head, cracking my eyes open. Kelli’s watching me with this amused expression on her face and I know he’s standing behind me. Above me. Whatever. I can feel him. All of his warm, deliciously sexy vibes are coming straight at me, trying to draw me into his dangerous web.

Slowly I turn and tilt my head back until my gaze meets his. He’s smiling at me, as friendly as ever, without a care in the world. Looking so freaking good in jeans and a—yep you guessed it—dark green Henley long-sleeved shirt that conforms to his shoulders and chest, making his eyes look more green than blue. His hair is damp, as if he just got out of the shower only moments ago and he’s got a coffee in his hand. The epitome of casual nonchalance, like a good friend stopping by to help us out of the kindness of his warm and giving heart. A heart I don’t believe exists if you want my honest opinion.

“Looking fresh and bright eyed this morning, aren’t you,” he drawls, staring pointedly at me. There’s not a flicker of acknowledgement of what happened between us last night in his expression.

Yeah. Fine. No big deal. If he can act nonchalant, so can I.

“I can’t shake you, can I?” I ask wryly. I’m pretending too. Like he didn’t have his tongue shoved in my mouth and his hands all over my body only a few hours ago. Like I wasn’t moaning and rubbing against him, my hands in his hair and every bit of common sense fleeing my brain.

Laughing, he pulls out the chair next to mine—did you expect he would sit next to Kelli? Please—and settles in, his arm bumping against my elbow. “I’m here to help you, Alexandria. I know statistics is your worst subject.”

“It is.” I reach into my backpack and pull out my stupid textbook, determined to make this all about school and nothing else.

“Why is that anyway?”

“Because it’s math, duh.” Oh, I sound like a petulant child. He should tell me to grow up. I deserve it. He did help us a few days ago at the library. I can’t forget that. He’s here on a Sunday morning, taking the time to help us cram. Either he’s just being nice or has ulterior motives.