CHAPER FIVE
LEIGH
Every text book on the library table makes me want to hurl. Three of the girls at work were injured in a car accident earlier in the week, leaving the rest of us to work doubles for an indefinite amount of time. Which, of course, happens just before a huge paper is due in my Orbital Mechanics class. The one that has the potential to make or break my freaking GPA before it's all finally, finally, finally over.
The sparkly pink water bottle lodged between fifteen different books on Kepler and Newton may or may not be filled to the brim with vodka.
"I hate Kepler." I push the book away and rub my eyes. Between work and studying, the last two weeks have felt like an unyielding nightmare, except I am very, very awake.
"Heads up." Sealy murmurs, a lilt to her voice that catches my attention through my hate-fueled inner monologue against men dead for hundreds of years.
The table next to us, previously filled with a group of PolySci majors who debated foreign policy loud enough my earbuds couldn't block them out, now only has two bodies and a smattering of books. Those two bodies, though, are hulking and behemoth and decked out in tight-fitting t-shirts to emphasize their growing biceps... and shrinking GPAs.
I scowl at Sealy over our combined library of resources. She's every bit the doe-eyed stargazer, chewing on the cap of her pencil as the darker-complected of the pair unloads his backpack. I recognize them immediately because our interaction is burned into my memory.
And because Sealy Facebook-stalked the hell out of them as soon as we got back to our apartment. Apparently, Clark wants a bulldog when he graduates and Heath wants a chihuahua named Beast, both of which were factoids I could have spent the rest of my life not knowing.
Even though a tiny Beast would be terribly cute.
"We should say hi." Sealy waggles her perfectly sculpted eyebrows at me. She's make up and spray-on tans where I'm nude lipstick and flipflops. I smooth my own pair of brows without noticing until I'm halfway through the motion. "They look like they could use some help."
"We should not and no, they don't." I hiss back at her. At that moment, Heath casts a glance our way and my entire body runs hot. I'm smacked with the memory of being pressed against a brick wall, completely eclipsed by him, and my textbook spirals into a watery mess of words I can't decipher. "I'm sure they're fine."
"They don't look fine."
"They aren't puppies to pick up off the street, Seal. They are big boys in their big boy classes that our tuition helps pay every semester. Let them be."
Sealy lets loose a soft whistle and I can hear the snarky grin edging underneath. "Someone hit a nerve."
"Someone is going to bomb this paper."
She holds her hands up in mock surrender and gnaws on her water bottle, also possibly full of booze, and pretends to read. She's busy watching Clark and Heath, I'm busy watching her, and no one gives a shit about Kepler anymore.
I'm rereading the same paragraph for the 87th time when Heath's voice cracks through the facade of my concentration.
"I'm just fucked, man. I'll never get this. Coach will skin my ass after he sees these test scores."
Sealy catches my eye and nods towards them with a brighter intensity. All I can do is clench my jaw and shake my head. I do not need this massive football player interrupting a paper that could literally shape the trajectory of my entire life. Given the utter inability to wipe him clean from my memories already, he'd be the worst thing to happen to me all afternoon, Johannes Kepler aside.
"Excuse me, ladies?" Clark leans across the aisle and gently raps his knuckles against our table. "I couldn't help but notice not only are you radiant and stunning, but you also have the air of someone who knows some shit about math."
Sealy stifles a laugh. "That started very sophisticated but took quite the abrupt turn there at the end."
"Because their brains are routinely beaten apart." I mutter, but a quick glance from Heath tells me it wasn't as quiet as I planned.
"Fuck this." Heath stands up and shoves a pencil in his pocket. "They are snobby bitches who think they are too good for everyone else. They don't have any interest in helping."
"Excuse me?" I gape, but my insides burn hot like they do every time I'm caught saying the terrible things that traipse my mind. "I am not a snobby bitch."
"So explain to me why you constantly shit all over the ball players on campus." Heath folds his massive arms and narrows his dark brown eyes into little slits. "Does it make you feel better about serving mediocre wings every night if you assert yourself over someone who is hitting success faster than you?"
"Bro." Clark grabs his arm. "Leave the wings out of it."
"Does it make you feel better about having virtually nothing to contribute to society by running through eateries like a wrecking ball and harassing the employees who are paid to be nice to you?" I fold my arms across my significantly smaller chest, but narrow my eyes just as tight.
"What she means to say is that maybe we can help?" Sealy nudges me with her foot and ignores the hot glare I fire at her. "What are you looking at?"
"Business Calculus." Clark says before Heath or I can spit back at each other.
I'm embarrassed but I'm also infuriated. He doesn't get to call me a snobby bitch just because I don't grovel at his feet. Someone with that much talent and that good looking shouldn't be such a fucking asshole. They should be a decent human being and be grateful for the hand they've been dealt in life. And yet...
"We'd be more than happy to help." Sealy clears some space at our table. "Leigh is an excellent teacher, but if they can't play nice..."
"I'll do it." I jump in, for reasons I can only pretend were tied to the sinking feeling in my gut. "I'll do it and I won't say one nasty thing about football again. But I'll only do it under one condition."
Heath frowns and glances at Sealy. "You said you'll do it? No strings attached?"
Sealy offers a tidy smile and shakes her head. "Unfortunately, I'm so busy helping Clark, I won't have time to assist."
Clark beams. Heath and I share an eye roll, which makes everything within me run silent. He shakes off whatever discomfort he carried and slides into the chair next to me.
"While those two are fucking in the study room, I guess we're going to be discussing differentings."
"Differentials?"
A scowl starts to slide across his brow, but he quickly brushes it aside and offers a flirty grin instead. He's infuriatingly inconsistent. "What is the catch to some one-on-one tutoring, O Football Hater?"
"You and the rest of your buddies stop harassing the girls at Wings ‘N Brew. No more grabbing ass, asking us out, making us cry because you got too drunk on shots of Fireball on the manager's dime." I poke him pointedly in the shoulder and try to ignore how hard and immovable he is. "Treat us like humans and I'll be happy to do the same."
"You want me to stop them from having a good time?" Heath shakes his head. "It's the cat-and-mouse game we've played there for years."
"And all the girls hate it."
"Not all the girls—"
"All the girls. Especially the ones you guys have slept with."
He scratches the back of his head and shrugs. " I'll tell them to lay off if you can help me get a B."
"They lay off now."
His gaze is so hot I feel like I'm being set on fire. Clark clears his throat and Heath cracks a grin and extends his hand. "Deal."