Tutoring the Player (Campus Wallflowers #1)(13)

“The room,” I grit out.

“I knew what you meant.”

“Then why are you smirking like that?”

“Knew what you meant, but I still thought it was funny.” He drops his backpack onto a chair and points to another empty seat. “You can sit if you want.”

I do and then instantly regret it. Jordan rubs the back of his neck like he’s not sure how to entertain me now that I’m here. The movement lifts the hem of his T-shirt to expose an inch of flat stomach above his jeans. He’s about the same height as Liam, but Jordan is leaner, and his muscles are more defined.

He disappears into the bedroom on the left side. “Do you want something to drink? We have Powerade or beer.”

He comes back with one of each.

“No thanks.”

He sets the Powerade on the coffee table anyway and opens the beer. He moves his backpack out of the other chair and takes a seat.

“What’s that?” he asks, nodding to the fliers in my hand.

I shove the forgotten fliers into my bag. “Nothing. What time did you say Liam would be back?”

“I’m not sure.” He shrugs. “I could pass on a message if you want.”

“I’d really rather just ask him myself.”

“Okay.” He leans back and extends one long leg. “Physics and art, huh? How does that happen?”

“My parents are physicists, and art makes me feel beautiful.”

Jordan stays quiet as he studies me. My answer feels too heavy. It’s definitely more than he bargained for. It’s the truth, but not something I usually tell people.

I fidget with my hands in my lap. “What about you? Why did you choose civil engineering?”

“Do you really want to talk about our majors?”

“You brought it up.”

He’s quiet a beat and then says, “I like being outside, and engineers make decent money. It’s a good fallback plan.”

“Fall back from what?”

He takes a drink of his beer. “I was drafted by the Kings over the summer.”

I don’t immediately put it together until he adds, “They’re a pro hockey team.”

“Oh. Wow. Congrats.”

“Thanks.”

Silence falls between us again. He taps his finger on the side of his beer can. “Are you sure I can’t pass on the message? I could write it down and everything.”

Standing, I start to move past him. “I should get out of your hair. I’ll just send him an email or something.”

He grabs my hand to stop me. The pads of his fingers are warm and calloused, and an unexpected thrill shoots up my arm. He smells like soap and beer.

I pull away first.

Jordan brings his hands together, gliding his palms together slowly in front of him. “Don’t go. Stay, have a drink. I’ll text Liam and see if he’s on his way yet.”





6





JORDAN





“He’s leaving the rink now.”

Daisy’s blonde head bobs, eyes downcast. “Thank you.”

Her fingers wrap around the red bottle. She hasn’t taken a drink, but she looks maybe the slightest bit more at ease. What the hell am I doing, letting her get comfortable and practically rolling out the red carpet for her to ask out Liam?

The last thing he needs is another distraction. The past week he’s gone from bad to worse. And if it were only impacting him, that’d be one thing, but the whole team is suffering.

Besides, the more time I spend with him and Daisy in class, the less I can see them together. I mean, the guy spent the entire two hours of class moping while sitting next to a girl who just wanted him to pay attention to her. He’s too caught up in his own shit to see how much she likes him.

“What did you mean today?” Daisy asks with the slightest edge to her voice.

When I look at her, she’s no longer staring at her feet but right at me. She has these big blue eyes and dark lashes that are hard to look away from when she has them trained on me.

“When you said that you wouldn’t expect me to understand about Liam and hockey,” she clarifies.

“Oh, uh, nothing. He had a rough day. Practice was awful, and Coach was on his case. I wouldn’t take anything he did or said today personally.”

“The only thing I took personally was you implying I couldn’t possibly understand. Is that some sort of dig at my intelligence?”

A chuckle escapes, but the look she cuts me has me reining it back. “No, of course not.”

“I’m a straight-A student.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“So?”

She’s pretty cute all wound up. In class, she seems all timid, but I like the fire in her eyes now.

“Have you ever been on a sports team?”

“No.” Her shoulders stiffen.

“Then you don’t know what it’s like to be a part of something, have people depend on you, and then fail them.”

“Liam feels like he’s failing the team. Why?”

“Do you follow the games at all? Never mind, it doesn’t matter. Liam is in a funk. As our captain, he needs to lead us even when he’s not playing well. He’s still figuring it out.”