Tutoring the Player (Campus Wallflowers #1)(10)

“Why don’t you have a turn?” I motion toward the launcher.

She nods and moves into position behind it. I stand near the paper, ready to catch the ball after it lands.

Her blonde hair falls forward like a curtain blocking half of her face as she leans down to set the ball in place. She glances up at me, or in my general direction anyway, before she fires. I nod, giving her the go-ahead. As the ball comes my way, I’m temporarily distracted as her shirt gapes hinting at a little cleavage. The daisy charm around her neck dangles seductively. Her boobs are small, but the cleavage is still nice.

The ball bounces while I’m still staring, but I easily catch it in one hand. She stands tall and takes a tentative step toward me like she wants to switch spots again.

“Nah, you go again,” I say and hold the ball up to indicate I’m going to toss it to her. She places both hands out in front of her apprehensively. I smother a laugh and throw it directly into her hands.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t look down her shirt the next three times she does it, but I convince myself it’s better this way, so she doesn’t fumble around trying to catch the ball as it shoots out at her. And I think she kind of likes sending flying objects in my direction.

When we’re finished with the launcher and start calculating velocity, I find myself back on my side, and the two of them huddled together.

I keep waiting for my buddy to ask her out, but he doesn’t even after we finish the lab and start packing up to leave. Huh. Maybe he wasn’t that serious about it. Or maybe I’m just that good.

Or he caught sight of her small tits or terrible ball catching skills and decided against it. It doesn’t sound like him, but whatever. I’m just thankful he didn’t.

Crisis adverted.





5





DAISY





Over the next two weeks, I continue to sit with Liam and Jordan during physics, and it actually starts to feel normal. Or as normal as sitting next to your popular crush while trying not to physically combust ever feels.

Sometimes the way he smiles at me, I convince myself that he likes me too. But when class is over, he says goodbye and races out the door like he can’t wait to get wherever he’s going.

Today when I slide into the chair next to Liam, he gives me the same smile and greeting, but his face doesn’t light up the same way, and he drops his gaze to the table while Professor Green talks through the lab.

While we work through the lab, he barely speaks—even to Jordan. I’ve never seen Liam like this. He’s sullen, broody even. He ducks out to refill his water bottle halfway through, and Jordan scoots closer.

“The next step is to measure the amplitude.” He taps his pencil on the paper.

I nod, then ask, “Is he okay?”

“Yeah,” he says as he hitches the sleeve of his T-shirt up on his shoulder. The movement lifts the cuff showing off his bicep and the bottom of a tattoo. He has a few. A long, skinny cross on the back of his left arm, then a hockey player and a puck going into a net—one on each thigh, that I’ve seen on days when he has worn shorts. Today his jeans cover them, and I imagine he has even more ink hidden underneath his clothes.

“He doesn’t seem okay.”

“Just a tough practice today.”

“Oh.” My brows knit in confusion. I expected something, I don’t know, bigger? “That’s all?”

“Were you hoping for more? Maybe a dead pet or incurable disease?”

“No, of course not.” My face heats.

He grins and brings his pencil up behind one ear.

“You were at practice too?”

His dark brows pull together slightly as he nods.

“And yet you haven’t lost your sparkle.”

His deep chuckle does something funny to my stomach. “Part of my charm, I guess. I don’t let things get to me like Liam does.”

I finish the measurement before I prod a little more. I want to understand Liam—what makes him tick and what gets to him. “A bad practice really gets him that upset?”

“Sometimes, yeah,” he says.

My face must show my surprise because Jordan shakes his head. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

I start to ask what he means, but Liam returns, and Jordan moves back to his spot. The time to himself seems to have done Liam well. He smiles a little brighter as he takes his seat and sets his bottle in front of him. “All right. Where did we leave off?”

Liam is more talkative for the rest of the class, and I forget all about Jordan’s remark until we’re leaving.

“Have a good weekend,” Liam says.

“You too. Good luck at your games.” I have the hockey team’s schedule memorized, so I know they’re traveling Friday and Saturday for away games.

His smile dims ever so slightly. It’s such a small change. I think it’s only because I’ve watched him so long that I’m able to notice. I steal a glance at Jordan. He’s watching for his friend’s reaction, too. I’ve hit a sore spot, which obviously isn’t what I wanted.

He recovers quickly, and his mouth pulls into a forced smile. “Thanks, Daisy. See you next week.”

Jordan tips his head to me and departs with him.

“Stupid, stupid,” I mutter softly as I head in the opposite direction.