The Goal (Off-Campus #4)(32)

I walk even faster. “Can’t hear you. Embarrassment is short-circuiting my nervous system.”

“If embarrassment is causing your malfunction now, I’d love to know what it was that caused you to run across the quad.”

As if she doesn’t know. Before I can respond, though, Tucker shows up on my right.

“Where’s the fire?” he drawls.

Hope grinds to a halt. “Thank God you caught up with us.” She runs a hand across her forehead in an exaggerated motion. “I’m not cut out for outdoor exertions.”

“Stow it, Hopeless,” I hiss out of the side of my mouth.

She grins unrepentantly. “I’m going inside to save us a seat. When you’re done, come find me.” She reaches past me to give Tucker’s biceps a squeeze. “You’re welcome to join us, handsome.”

Someone growls. I hope everyone thinks it’s my stomach, but by Hope’s broad grin and Tucker’s smirk, I know I’m busted. At least Tucker has the decency to wait until Hope’s out of earshot before he opens his mouth.

“Ignoring my texts again?”

“It was one text, and it’s only been three days.” I stare stubbornly ahead and not into his gorgeous face or his deep brown eyes.

“But who’s counting, right?”

I don’t even need to look at him to know he’s smiling. It’s in his every word.

We stand there for a moment, neither of us speaking. I suppose he’s looking at me while I’m looking at everything but him. Finally, I find my ovaries and turn to face him.

The smile has worn off. Now he sports a slightly quizzical frown, as if he’s decided I’m a puzzle that he’s trying to solve. A dozen questions whirl around in my head, and I take a moment to sort through them until I arrive at the one that bothers me the most—the horrible scene with Ray before Tucker left my house on Friday night.

“I went to Harvard the other day,” I begin awkwardly. “I sat in the lobby and some student mistook me for a poor person in need of legal aid.”

“Shit.”

I wave off the sympathy. “After I told him I was actually going to be attending Harvard with him next fall, I went to see the professor who’s good friends with my advisor and she told me to buy new clothes. Up until this weekend, that was probably one of the more humiliating events in my life. Well, if you don’t count the day in middle school when I unexpectedly got my period during gym class. While climbing a rope.”

He chuckles. “Ouch.”

“But…you hearing all that shit that my stepdad said?” I pause to shudder. “That’s a scene I’d like to erase.”

“Sabrina—”

I cut him off. “My life is like one horrible episode after another of the Real Housewives of South Boston: Slum Edition. And if I don’t keep getting perfect grades, if I can’t compete—” My voice cracks slightly and I have to stop.

Tucker doesn’t say anything. He’s watching me with an indecipherable expression.

I clear my throat. “If I can’t compete, then I can’t get out of there, which, frankly, is unacceptable to me. So while sex with you is so goddamn amazing, it’s distracting. You’re distracting,” I confess.

He lets out a slow, steady breath. “Baby. You think you’re the only one with an embarrassing family member? My Uncle Jim is literally one of those creepy guys that give the uncle stereotype life. He’s always touching his family members in weird ways. None of my female cousins want to be around him. If I brought you to a family reunion, he’d be making some gross statement and trying to grab your ass. I don’t think you’d hold that against me, would you?”

“No, but…” I start to say that it’s not the same, but we both know that’s not true. It is the same. Ray isn’t my dad. He’s some douchebag my mom married and left behind like an unwanted piece of luggage. Like me.

“And despite what you think, I don’t have money. I’m here on a full-ride hockey scholarship. If Briar hadn’t offered that, I would be at a state school in Texas.” He shrugs. “I have some savings and I plan to use that to jumpstart my post-college life, but I’m not the asshole you think I am.”

“I don’t think you’re an asshole,” I mumble, but I don’t deny that I’m leery of guys with money.

He studies me for a moment. “Let me ask you this. Dean’s trust fund earns more in interest in one quarter than what my entire inheritance is worth. Did his dick feel different when you were with him?”

I cringe for a moment, because my drunken hookup with Dean Di Laurentis isn’t something I like to dwell on. At the same time, the thought of Dean’s money making his dick feel different is so silly, I can’t stop a snort from coming out. “I don’t remember. I was wasted and so was he.”

“Did you feel like a million bucks the next day?”

“God, no.”

“So money doesn’t matter once you get down to it. It doesn’t matter how thin or thick anyone’s wallet is. We all hurt. We all love. We’re the same. And your past, who you live with, where you came from, it doesn’t have to matter. You’re creating your own future, and I want to see where the road forward takes you.” Tucker slides a finger under the strap of my messenger bag. “We should get some food in you. How about I carry this while I walk you to the dining hall?”