Tutoring the Player (Campus Wallflowers #1)(26)

I thought he was full of crap, but I can see it. He mouths the words and taps his pencil, but he’s in it, focused and working hard.

“You’re different than I thought,” I say as he mouths along with an old Nirvana song.

His head pops up, and he leans back in his chair. “How’s that?”

“I’m not sure, exactly.”

“Well, since my good looks are obvious, it must be my personality that you thought sucked.”

“Your personality doesn’t suck.”

“Exactly.” He grins. “For the record, you’re different than I thought too.”

“I am?” My insides are squishy thinking about Jordan giving me any thought at all.

Before he can tell me what he might have thought of me before, the front door opens, and Violet says, “I’m home.”

She walks straight back toward the kitchen but stops when she sees Jordan. “You again.”

He juts a chin toward her. “Hey, Violet.”

“Does this mean I can’t convince you to come out and celebrate?” She waves her hand, indicating me and Jordan studying.

“Celebrate what?” I ask.

“I got an A on the dress, and my professor said it was my best design yet.”

“That is amazing. Congratulations.” I look over at Jordan, who has his phone in front of him, staring at the screen. “We’re still working. Maybe tomorrow night?”

Jordan pushes his chair back. “Actually, I totally forgot. I have bowling tonight.”

“Bowling?” Violet asks.

“I’m in a league with a few buddies.” A shy smile pulls up one side of his mouth. “I’m sorry to cut this short.”

“It’s okay. Did you get what you needed?”

“I think so. Thanks for your help.” His smile makes my lips twitch to reciprocate the movement.

“Now we can go out,” Violet says. She moves to the fridge and pulls out a bottle of white wine. “Anyone else want a drink?”

Jordan and I both shake our heads.

She pours herself a glass. “I haven’t been bowling in forever.”

“What about you?” Jordan motions his head toward me as he pushes back from the table.

“Are you asking me if I’ve ever bowled?”

He nods.

“Of course.”

“In the last five years?”

“Yes.” My voice climbs defensively. “We went last semester with a group.”

“She’s not bad,” Violet says as she leans against the counter.

I give him a smug, satisfied look.

“All right, sweet Daisy. Prove it.” He stands and hooks his backpack over one shoulder.

“Prove it how?”

“We’re short a player tonight. Come fill in.”

“Oh, no. I—” All my excuses die on my tongue because they admit I’m not really that good. I’m not, but I’d rather keep that to myself. “I can’t tonight.”

“Okay.” He lifts his phone. “I guess I’ll just text Liam and see if he can recruit someone else.”

“Liam is on your bowling team?” Violet asks.

“Yeah. He’s a founding member,” Jordan says.

Violet glances at me with wide, expressive eyes. She mouths, “Go!”

The thought of embarrassing myself in rented shoes is almost enough to hold me back, but I blurt out, “We’ll come.”

“We’ll?” Violet asks, my insinuation clear.

“They have alcohol there, right?”

Jordan nods. “Yeah. And food.”

I see the second that Violet gives in. She’s the freaking best.

“Okay, fine,” she says. “But one of you is buying me a drink.”

We ride with Jordan in his SUV. I sit in the front, second-guessing this decision. I do want more opportunities to talk to Liam, but I’m not the most coordinated person, and he’s, well, he just is. He moves so gracefully and confidently. I’m not a walking disaster or anything, but I didn’t play sports as a kid and have mostly avoided them as an adult.

We’re the first to get there for his team. Jordan checks in, and we’re told to go to lane two. Jordan has his own ball, which for some reason, makes me giggle. I switch out my shoes and then go in search of my own ball while Jordan buys Violet a drink from the bar.

The selection is intense. I avoid anything pink and overly girly. I find a green one that isn’t too heavy and fits my small hands pretty well, and I am about to head back when Liam’s voice startles me.

“Hey, Daisy.”

I turn around to face him. An image of me dropping the ball on his foot flashes before me. Luckily for the both of us, I manage to hang on to the slippery ball.

“Hi,” I respond, clutching it to my stomach.

“Find a good one?” His blond hair is covered with a white hat, and he’s in a matching polo shirt.

“Excuse me?”

He points to the ball. “The right ball is everything.”

He scans the rack until he finds the one he’s looking for.

“There you are,” he says softly to the blue marble ball as he inserts his fingers and holds it up like he’s refamiliarizing himself with it. He glances at me with a sheepish grin. “I panic every time that I won’t be able to find it. It’s lucky.”