Tutoring the Player (Campus Wallflowers #1)(12)

In high school, well-meaning guidance counselors and teachers tell you that in college, it’s less about labels like jock and nerd and more about finding your people. They were half right. It was easy to find my people here. By the second semester, I had a group of people I called friends. They are all physics or art majors or girls from the same dorm hall. Then Violet, of course, once she stopped hanging with her sorority roommate. The point is the division in groups still exists. I guess because there are more of us, we’re supposed to stop caring.

I haven’t, but as I walk through the front entrance of Freddy, I wish I could. If just for a few minutes, I would love to be blissfully unaware that I am different than the other people walking in.

A girl in a Valley U volleyball tank top holds the door open for me and smiles. “Coming in?”

“Thanks.” My gaze sweeps over the large lounge area.

Girls and guys hang out in front of a TV. The sound is muted on a basketball game, and there’s music coming from somewhere—upbeat, party music. Which is exactly what it feels like—a fun, little Thursday afternoon party. Our dorm lounge never felt like that.

“Are you looking for someone?” she asks as I pause, still looking for which direction to go.

“Is there a bulletin board for announcements?”

She points to the left side near mailboxes and the front desk.

“Thanks again.”

With a nod and a smile, she bounces away from me, ponytail swaying with each step.

I hang the flier and then hesitate on my plan. I don’t know what floor Liam is on or if I can even get there without being stopped. Freddy is a co-ed dorm, but I don’t know which are boys’ floors and which are girls’. This was a terrible idea.

Not to mention, how am I going to ask him to haul something for me, therefore admitting I know he drives a truck when I have no reason to have that knowledge. No reason except when he’s around, I have some sort of sense. I can spot him across campus, across parking lots… I just see him. But, yeah, I don’t think that explanation is going to convince him to help me. More like run far, far away.

I’m about to leave when Jordan walks through the front doors. I look behind him, hopefully for Liam. I’m not that lucky.

His black backpack hangs on one shoulder, and his Valley Hockey hat is turned backward. He has this ease about him, from the way he dresses to the way he walks like he doesn’t give a single fuck about anything. I admire it as much as I dislike it. Would it kill him to care a little about something?

It should say something about my feelings for Liam that I’m able to put one foot in front of the other and catch Jordan before he reaches the stairs.

“Jordan,” I call his name, then quicken my steps to a jog so he can hear me over the music. “Jordan, hey!”

He glances over his shoulder while still moving up the stairs, but when he sees me, he stops, and his brows lift. “Daisy?”

The confusion on his face isn’t malicious, but I still pray for the floor to swallow me up. I’m the last person he expected to see here.

“Hey,” he says when I don’t respond. “What are you doing here?”

“I…” My explanation is stuck somewhere inside of me. Why did I think this was a good plan?

“If you’re looking for Liam, he isn’t back yet. He had a meeting with Coach.”

“Thanks.” I spin on my heel to flee, but I can’t seem to force myself to go. I came here for a reason, and I need to see it through or die of embarrassment trying. Spinning back around, I face him again. “Do you know what time he’ll be back?”

“No, but it shouldn’t be too long. You can wait for him if you want or if it’s something with physics, I can probably figure it out.”

“It isn’t about physics.”

“I figured.” He flashes the smallest of grins. He tips his head, motioning for me to follow, and bounces up each stair, somehow moving slowly but energetic at the same time.

I keep a two-step difference between us as he leads me up to the fifth floor. He holds open the door for me, forcing me to go ahead of him. I stop and let him retake the lead. Lots of doors are open, letting the noise from the rooms bleed out into the hallway—music, video games, laughter. Two guys are tossing a football the length of the hall.

“Heads up,” Jordan says as we pass them. “Hey, Ry.”

“Thatcher.” The guy he called Ry smiles and holds the football in one giant palm. “How’s it going?”

“Good, man.”

Ry gives me a knowing smirk that takes me a second to decipher, but when I do, I once again wish I could disappear. Ry thinks I’m on my way to hook up with Jordan. Kill me now.

Jordan eventually stops about halfway down the long hallway and opens a door on the left side. He walks in, holds the door open with an elbow, and flips on the light.

I’m staring at a living area. A couch and a chair face a TV with various gaming systems. Hockey jerseys hang on the wall, there are skates, sticks, and other gear shoved next to the TV, and it smells a little like a gym locker, but it’s not as messy as I might have imagined.

On either side of the living area are what I assume are the bedrooms, but I can’t see inside of either.

“It’s even bigger than I expected,” I say.

Jordan’s lips pull into a wide smile.