Tutoring the Player (Campus Wallflowers #1)(3)
I glance at my stunning cousin. Our fathers are brothers, but our personalities are as different as the way we look. My hair is the color of wet sand, and my blue eyes are nothing special. I’m average height and just… well, average. Violet, on the other hand, inherited her mother’s Korean genes. Her long hair is a soft black, and her eyes are a dark brown that lighten when she laughs.
I love my cousin, but she doesn’t always understand what it’s like to be the shy, quiet girl.
“Do you not like it?” Uncertainty tugs her brows down as she searches my face. Sometimes I forget that Violet has insecurities. It doesn’t make any sense to me because she’s so good at everything she does.
“Are you kidding me? I feel like a harlot.”
She still stares at me with big, unsure eyes.
“That was a compliment. I’ve never felt more beautiful, Vi. I’m just not sure it’s me.”
“You could be a harlot. You’d just have to speak to your crushes instead of watching them from the tree house.” This from Jane, who puts the magazine down and comes to stand in front of me. “You look beautiful, Daisy.”
I appreciate their confidence in me, however unfounded. I have a pretty good idea of how it’d go if I actually spoke to Liam, and it doesn’t end up with me wearing this dress on a date where he pulls me into the corner and ravishes me because he just can’t wait another minute to have me. The dress is good. It isn’t that good.
Violet’s lips pull up at the corners, and she squeezes me from the side. “It’s going to be great this year.” She moves to unzip me. “Did I tell you that I was able to book the big ballroom in the Moreno building? And Jane’s parents donated tablecloths and these gorgeous candle centerpieces.” She looks at our roommate. “Thanks again for that.”
“No problem.” Jane sits back on the couch and picks up her magazine.
“Wow. That’s quite a step up from last year’s little shindig in the dorm lounge.” We had flat soda in Solo cups, and the lighting was fluorescent.
Violet first had the idea for a masquerade ball when we were living in the dorms last year. Her roommate was off to some sorority formal, and we were both pining over how there weren’t big social events for people like us who didn’t rush Greek life or date guys popular enough to be invited to them. So, we organized one, or Violet did.
“Yes, it’s gotten a little out of hand.” She shrugs through an excited smile that tells me it’s going to be way, way over the top.
“How can I help?” I ask.
“Could you take care of the flowers? The florist up the street already has us on her schedule, but I need to give her specifics.”
“Flowers?”
“Yes, flowers.” She cuts me a look. “It’s the Wallflower Ball.”
A groan slips past my lips. “You really have to stop calling it that.”
“I’ll text you all the details. Are you sure you can do it? The whole concept revolves around the flowers. They’re doing an arch and…” She trails off when it’s clear I’m only half-listening. “Don’t forget.”
“I will go this week.”
“Thank you.”
She takes the dress from me, and I pull on my far-less-stylish one and boots.
“I’m off to class.” My pulse jumps because I’m going to see Liam in fifteen minutes.
My roommates grin. They know how much I look forward to this class twice a week.
“Say hi to Liam for us,” Jane teases.
Not likely.
2
DAISY
Our physics professor is a short, bald man with a booming voice and a quick smile. He spends the two-hour lab pacing the front of the room and trying with all his might to get us pumped about our work. He’s great. Friendly, a little quirky, and a whole lot animated. He teaches with his whole body, hands waving wildly as he gives us instructions for today’s assignment.
But despite his best efforts, my attention is pulled to the guy sitting at the table in front of me. Today Liam wears a black polo shirt with jeans. His blond hair is covered by a matching black baseball cap. Even when he’s casual, he’s put together. He leans on his left elbow, pen poised against his full lips, giving our boisterous professor his entire focus.
He’s a direct contradiction to the guy next to him. Jordan Thatcher’s messy black hair curls around a backward hat that says I heart MILFs. His shirt is wrinkled, and his socks don’t match. He’s handsome if you don’t mind that I just finished practice and couldn’t be bothered to find clean clothes look.
Liam and Jordan are teammates, but they’re so different I don’t understand how they’re friends off the ice. While Liam is known for being a good guy, Jordan’s reputation is less pristine. If there’s a party, he’s there. Girls love his carefree, party-hard attitude. I find it… daunting. Sure, I’d love to care a little less and break out of my shell, but Jordan doesn’t seem like he cares about anything.
His head is bowed over his desk, and he scribbles furiously like he’s taking down every word Professor Green says. Except even from my table behind him, I can see what he’s really doing is coloring in the block letters of the notebook brand on the front.