I barely get the threadbare Valley basketball T-shirt pulled over my head before I hear Blair walk up the stairs toward my room. Her footsteps are tentative and soft, a definite distinction from the heavy ones of any of my roommates.

She knocks on the doorframe as she peers in. “Hey.”

“Hey.” I take in her tan legs and the tiny white shorts that cover places I want to see and taste.

I squeeze my eyes shut to try to erase the thoughts. I recite the presidents backward in my head and then open my eyes to find Blair bent over in front of me to get something out of her bag. An innocent act, but the way her T-shirt gapes open and gives me a view of her rack? Not so much.

She stands straight all business and pep. “I spent some time going over the first two tests to try to determine what this one might look like.”

We settle onto my bed, sitting so close her hair brushes against my shoulder. “I think I’m good with the short answer questions, but the essay killed me last time. What do you think he might ask us to do for this one?”

I take her last test and read the essay question and her answer. Then re-read twice because my head is not in it.

“I think he’ll have us compute probability of events.”

We take turns coming up with scenarios and then computing the probability. She chews on the end of her pencil in thought, and I’m mesmerized by the way her lips part and her teeth rest gently on the rubber end. This woman is going to kill me a slow, achingly painful death.

“Every single example you used was basketball related,” she says looking back over our scenarios that she’s carefully written in her notebook.

I shrug. “It’s what I know.”

She raises both eyebrows as if she’s daring me to think beyond ball. I clear my throat. Only two things currently occupy space in my brain. Ball and . . .

“The probability of you letting me kiss you.” My throat feels like gravel as I continue. “Possible outcomes include allowing and not allowing. Each outcome has a probability of point five.”

Her eyes widen, and she shifts uncomfortably. Her voice is quiet and throaty. “No.”

The sting of rejection hurts. I thought I’d seen interest in the way she looked at me. And not just my brain and what I could do to help her or my status as a jock for some sort of ego boost. Interest in me. I flip open the textbook, hiding my disappointment and giving my fingers something to do. “It was just—”

She rests her hand on top of mine. The G-rated touch sends X-rated thoughts. “That example doesn’t work because not allow isn’t an outcome.”

Her words register, and my fractured ego repairs itself and then alley oops a beautiful lob that ends with my mouth capturing hers. Slam dunk.

Fuck, I don’t even care that the thoughts going through my head are screwed-up ball references. I can usually compartmentalize the aspects of my life that don’t revolve around my jersey, but this girl’s lips against mine feels like the sweetest victory.

Our tongues tangle, and she grows bolder, running her hand up to my chest before fisting my shirt as if she’s afraid I might run away before she’s ready.

Baby doll, I’m not going anywhere as long as you’re touching me. I keep the thought to myself but do my best to show her that truth by placing a hand at her hip and deepening the kiss. I smile into her mouth when I taste the lingering sweetness of Sprees and something that is uniquely Blair. Damn, I had been curious about kissing her and assumed it’d be nice, but now that I’ve kissed her, I don’t wanna stop.

The door swings open, “Hey, man, I invited some girls—”

Joel stops short when he catches Blair scrambling away from me and placing the back of her hand to her lips.

“My bad. Looks like you already have plans for the night.” His grin makes the stiffy in my pants deflate. Fucking Joel.

“Ever consider knocking?”

“Ever consider locking the door?” He throws back.

Blair scoots off the bed. “He’s all yours. I have to finish a paper tonight anyway.”

Joel backs out of the room, leaving me alone with this girl who has my head spinning. I half-hoped kissing her would cure my interest, prove that she was just like any girl, but it didn’t. I want to do it again.

“Sorry about Joel.”

“It’s fine.” She waves me off. “I really should get going.”

I shove my hands deep into my pockets. “Okay.”

I walk her downstairs and past the noise of the party forming out back.

She stops just outside the door and peers back at me. “So, I’ll see you in class tomorrow?”

“Actually, no. I’m getting the boot off late tomorrow morning. Professor O’Sean is letting me come in during his early office hours to take the test.”

“There goes my idea of cheating off you.”

I chuckle and run a hand through my hair. “After that stunt you pulled on the court Sunday, I wouldn’t put it past you, but you don’t need it. You’re ready.”

“I hope so. I need to pass this class. No, I need an A in this class.”

“I’ll get you your A.”

And I know I will. I’ve taken on her grade the same way I’ve taken on Zeke’s first round pick. I don’t know what it means or even why, but I can see the possible outcomes, and I know the probability of walking away is the least likely of them all.