The Deal(50)

“What the hell!”

“Shit. I’m so sorry,” I blurt out.

Then I slam the door and race downstairs like I’m being chased by a serial killer.

When I stumble into the living room a moment later, I’m greeted by two grinning faces. “We told you not to go up there,” Tucker says with a sigh.

Dean’s grin widens. “How was the show? We can’t hear much from down here, but I have a feeling she’s a screamer.”

I’m so mortified that my cheeks feel like they’re burning from the inside out. “Can you tell your slutty friend to call me when he’s done? Actually, no. Tell him he’s out of luck. My time is precious, damn it. I’m not tutoring him anymore when he obviously doesn’t take my schedule seriously.”

With that, I march out of the house, my emotions alternating between embarrassment and anger. Unbelievable. How is fooling around with some girl more important to him than passing his midterm? And what kind of jerk would do that when he knows I’m coming over?

I’m halfway to Tracy’s car when the front door bursts open, and Garrett rushes out. He at least had the decency to put on a pair of jeans, but he’s still not wearing a shirt. Or shoes, for that matter. He hurries over to me, his expression a mixture of sheepish and annoyed. “What the hell was that?” he demands.

“Are you kidding me?” I retort. “I should be asking you that question. You knew I was coming over!”

“You said nine!”

“I changed it to seven, and you know it.” My lips twist in a scowl. “Maybe next time you should pay more attention to me when I call you.”

He rakes a hand through his short hair, and his biceps bulge as he does it. The cold air causes goose bumps to rise on his smooth, golden skin, and my gaze is unwittingly drawn to the thin line of hair that arrows toward his unbuttoned waistband.

At the sight, an odd flicker of heat travels from my breasts to my core. My body suddenly feels tight and achy, my fingers tingling with the urge to…oh, for f*ck’s sake. No. So what if the guy is totally cut? That doesn’t mean I want to ride him like a cowgirl.

He already has someone else doing that to him.

“I’m sorry, okay?” he grumbles. “I screwed up.”

“No, not okay. One, you clearly don’t respect my time, and two, you clearly don’t want to pass this class, otherwise your pants would be zipped and your textbook would be open.”

“Oh really?” he challenges. “So you expect me to believe that you study twenty-four-seven and never hook up with anyone?”

Discomfort churns in my stomach, and when I don’t answer, suspicion floods his eyes. “You do hook up, don’t you?”

An irritable breath escapes my lips. “Of course I do. Just…not in a while.”

“What’s a while?”

“A year. Not that it’s any of your business.” I set my jaw and unlock the driver’s door. “Go back to your floozy, Garrett. I’m going home.”

“Floozy?” he echoes. “That’s a rude assumption, don’t you think? She could be a Rhodes scholar, for all you know.”

I raise one eyebrow. “Is she?”

“Well, no,” he relents. “But Tiffany—”

I snort. Tiffany. Of course her name is Tiffany.

“—is a very smart girl,” he finishes darkly.

“Uh-huh, I’m sure she is. Go back to Ms. Smart then. I’m outta here.”

“Can we reschedule for tomorrow?”

I open the car door. “No.”

“Is that so?” He clamps his hand over the doorframe. “Then I guess our date on Saturday is off too?”

He stares at me.

I stare right back.

But we both know he won’t be the one backing down.

I suddenly flash back to the conversation I had with Justin in the hallway the other day. My cheeks heat up again, but this time it has nothing to do with the fact that I just caught Garrett with his pants down. Literally. Justin has finally acknowledged my existence, and if I bail on this party, I’ll be passing up the opportunity to talk to him outside of school. It’s not like we travel in the same circles, so unless I want to limit myself to a once-a-week interaction in Ethics, I need to be proactive and seek him out away from the lecture hall.

“Fine,” I mumble to Garrett. “I’ll see you tomorrow. At seven.”