Chapter Four
Lindsay
About thirty minutes of mostly fruitless studying later, I decided to pack up for the night. My phone chimed, vibrating in my pocket, and I tugged it out.
Ryder: Nice try. Where are you hiding in the library? I’ll come help you with your math.
A strange mix of offense and happiness churned through me. I still couldn’t believe that even after he’d caught me hiding from him, here he was, texting me anyway. Seriously, what was wrong with him? There had to be dozens of girls who ran toward instead of away from him.
Just ignore it and go home. It’s the safe play.
It was also the rude play, and after his help the other night—not to mention those jokes about how much I offended math and that annoyingly adorable remark about his tutoring skills being off the hook, which who even said that anymore?—I couldn’t do it.
Me: I’m NOT hiding in the library, and I never was, so I have no idea what you’re talking about.
When in doubt, deny, deny, deny. My hiding, my attraction, the fact that I was smiling right now—I plead the fifth to all of it.
Ryder: So you’re hiding at the newspaper office. I just got done with practice. I’ll be there in five.
“No,” I said to the empty room, and I actually considered hiding behind the dusty tree in the corner. If I thought I could do it without sneezing and giving myself away like some cartoon character, I might’ve.
Since I figured it was too late to talk him out of it via text, I leaned over and fluffed my hair in the reflection of my computer monitor. My eyes were most likely cracked out from staring at that screen for hours, more red than white, but my makeshift mirror muted it, which helped with pretending it wasn’t that bad. I dug through the contents of my bag, found lip gloss and breath mints, and did the best freshen up I could manage. Not because I needed to impress the guy, but because I didn’t need to embarrass myself around him more than I already had.
Might as well add “delusional” to my list of finer qualities. I’ll put it on my résumé. The Human Resources That Be will want to hire me for sure when they see that.
Formulating a game plan, I strolled to the front of the room, gripping the strap of my backpack and trying to subdue the nervous butterflies crashing into each other in my gut.
This is ridiculous. He’s just a guy.
Heavy footsteps sounded on the steps and then the door pushed inward. All the oxygen in the room evaporated as Ryder stepped into view. Did he get taller and more ripped since I saw him two nights ago? He practically filled the entire doorframe, his head nearly brushing the top, his massive shoulders doing their best to take up every spare inch of space.
“Hey,” he said, and the fuzzy tingles I already confessed to feeling at the sound of his deep voice erupted and traveled over my skin.
“I was going to text you, but since you were already on your way…” I reached up and fiddled with the strap of my backpack. “I was just headed home actually. I haven’t had dinner and—”
“I haven’t, either, and I just so happen to know this diner within walking distance. My roommate and his girlfriend go there all the time. Do you know Dane and Megan?”
“Megan Davenport?” Brother to Beck Davenport, number seven, center, and current boyfriend of Whitney’s roommate Lyla.
“Yeah, that’s her.”
“Met her briefly,” I said. “You go ahead and enjoy dinner.”
Ryder crossed his arms, and God help me, it made that sexy line in his forearms stand out. “I’m not going to let you flee this time. See, I noticed you do that, and I know you need math help or you wouldn’t have texted me in the first place. So I’m not really asking.”
Indignation rose, helping smother some of the lust pumping through my body, so I clung to it extra hard. “So you’re resorting to scare tactics for my benefit? Is that what you’re saying?”
Ryder took a few steps closer and my breath caught in my throat. “Are you saying you’re scared of me?”
Yes. Not in the way he was asking, though. There was something about him that felt very secure. Probably all the muscles—seriously, the gym must be his second home. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re kind of intense?”
“Says the girl who has a grudge against math, hockey, and, I’m starting to suspect, fun.”
I gasped and a slow smile spread across his face.
“I’m okay with a challenge. As I mentioned, once I set my mind on something…” He looked me up and down and heat licked at my skin, tracing the same path his eyes did. “I think the first order of business will be working on that grudge against math. Then we’ll shift to the one you have against hockey players.” He ran his fingers across his jaw. “I’d suggest starting by working with the very defenseman who wants to help you with math, and I’m pretty sure that’ll naturally solve the one against having fun.”
I lifted my chin. “I do not have a grudge against fun.” I should probably be more offended at his accusation, even if I had sort of forgotten what it was like to go out, no keeping my guard up, and just enjoy the moments as they came. But he’d said it lightly, more teasing, half challenge for sure, and despite how busy he was, he was offering to tutor me in his spare time.
Tutoring I desperately needed.
I didn’t want to have to owe him one. Lines still needed to be drawn, boundaries kept uncrossed. “What do you charge for private tutoring? If we’re not going to the tutoring center—and honestly I’d rather not—it seems like I should pay you. I wouldn’t want to take advantage of you.”
Mischief danced along the curve of his grin. “Feel free to take advantage of me anytime.”
I shook my head. “Walked right into that one.”
“Yes you did. Now, I’m hungry, you’re hungry, and if it makes you feel better, we’ll pretend the diner is the tutoring center and that we’re on the college’s dime.”
An internal debate took place in my head. That there were other tutors in the sea, so I’d find and pay one of them, even if I couldn’t afford it. Or I’d make do with the gruesome twosome in the tutoring center, because my tuition money already paid for that.
They’ll never get me in B range, my brain whispered. I told it to mind its own business, especially since it always took a break whenever Ryder was around, which was partially to blame for me being in this compromising position in the first place.
“How about this?” Ryder asked, obviously reading my hesitation. “For every tutoring session, we do something fun. That’s the payment plan.”
I arched an eyebrow. “And I suppose you get to decide what’s fun?”
“Well, you and fun aren’t acquainted enough for you to do it. Just consider me your intermediary.”
I shot him a look and let out an exaggerated sigh, but honestly, it wasn’t a bad deal. I supposed I could afford a little fun. Maybe.
He put his hand on the small of my back. “Now come on, neither of us is getting any younger.”
It hit me that he was at least two years younger than I was, which made me feel like my mom all over again. But when he tilted his head toward the exit and gave me a gentle nudge, I decided it was perfectly acceptable for my math tutor to be younger than me, and for me to go on a few fun, friendly outings with said tutor.
The way my blood rushed to the spot where he’d put his hand? Probably not so acceptable, but I was too hungry and too desperate for math help to turn back now.