The Deal (Off-Campus, #1)(20)

“You have a lot of confidence in yourself,” she finally remarks. “Do you honestly think you’re such hot shit that the mere act of going to a party with you will turn me into a celebrity?”

“Yes.” I’m not being arrogant, just truthful. After two years at this school, I know the kind of cred I have.

Though honestly? Sometimes I don’t feel half as cool as people think I am, and I’m pretty sure that if any of them took the time to actually get to know me, they’d probably change their opinion. It’s like that pond I skated on when I was a kid—from a distance, the ice looked so shiny and smooth, until you got close enough to it, and suddenly all the uneven edges and crisscrossed skate marks became visible. That’s me, I guess. Covered with skate marks that nobody ever seems to notice.

And jeez, clearly I’m feeling way too philosophical tonight.

Next to me, Hannah has gone quiet, chewing on her lip as she considers my proposal.

For a split second, I almost tell her to forget it. It seems…wrong that this girl cares what a douche like Kohl thinks about her. Hannah’s intelligence and razor-sharp tongue is wasted on a guy like that.

But then I think of my team, and all the guys that are counting on me, and I force myself to ignore my misgivings.

“Think about it,” I coax. “The makeup is next Friday, which gives us a week and a half to study. I’ll write the exam, and then on Saturday night we’ll go to Maxwell’s party and show Loverboy how sexy and desirable you are. He won’t be able to resist, trust me.”

“One, don’t call him that. Two, stop telling me to trust you. I don’t even know you.” But despite the grumbling, I can see her capitulating. “Look. I can’t commit to tutoring you for the whole semester. I honestly don’t have time.”

“It’ll just be this week,” I promise.

She hesitates.

I don’t blame her for doubting me. Truth is, I’m already thinking of how I can convince her to hold my hand for the duration of Tolbert’s course, but…one battle at a time.

“So do we have a deal?” I prompt.

Hannah stays quiet, but just when I’ve given up hope, she sighs and says, “All right. We’ve got a deal.”

Hot damn.

A part of me is genuinely shocked that I managed to wear her down. I’ve been badgering her for what feels like an eternity, and now that I’ve won, it’s almost like experiencing a sense of loss. Figure that out.

Nevertheless, I give myself a mental high five as I drive into the lot behind the dormitories. “What dorm are you in?” I ask as I put the Jeep in park.

“Bristol House.”

“I’ll walk you in.” I start to unbuckle my seatbelt, but she shakes her head.

“It’s fine. I don’t need a bodyguard.” She holds up her phone. “All prepped to dial 911, remember?”

A short silence falls over us.

“Well.” I stick out my hand. “It was a pleasure doing business with you.”

She stares at my hand like I’m a carrier for Ebola. I roll my eyes and withdraw the gesture.

“I work until eight tomorrow,” she says. “We can meet up when I’m done. You don’t live in the dorms, right?”

“No, but I can come to you.”

She blanches as if I’ve offered to shave her head. “And have people think we’re friends? No way. Text me your address. I’ll come to your place.”

I’ve never met anyone who’s so repulsed by my popularity, and I have no idea what to make of it.

I think I might like it.

“You’ll be the most popular girl on your floor if I came over, you know.”

“Text me your address,” she says firmly.

“Yes, ma’am.” I beam at her. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

All I get in return is a sour look and a flash of her profile as she turns to open her door. She hops out of the car without a word, then reluctantly taps on the passenger window.

Stifling a grin, I press the button to roll down the window. “Forget something?” I mock.

“Thank you for the ride,” she says primly.

And then she’s gone, her green dress fluttering in the night breeze as she hurries toward the darkened buildings.





7




Hannah


Normally I pride myself on having a good head on my shoulders and making sound decisions, but agreeing to tutor Garrett? Stupider than stupid.

I’m still cursing myself for it as I make the drive over to his house the following evening. When he cornered me at the Sigma party, I had every intention of telling him to f*ck off and leave me alone, and then he’d dangled Justin under my nose like a carrot, and I caved like a cheap tent.

Great. And now I’m mixing metaphors.

I think it might be time for me to face a grim truth: I have zero common sense when it comes to Justin Kohl. Last night I left the party with the sole purpose of forgetting about him? and instead of doing that, I allowed Garrett Graham to fill me with the most destructive emotion known to mankind—hope.

Hope that Justin might notice me. Hope that he might want me. Hope that I might’ve finally met someone who can make me feel something.

It’s embarrassing how besotted I am with the guy.