Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 107077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
I shake away the mental image and force my feet into movement. Once I reach the table, I drop down onto the chair parked next to hers. As she glances up, her gaze collides with mine and she gives me a slight smile. It’s doubtful I’ll ever be on the receiving end of a full-blown one. Although, it’s way better than the scowls she usually aims in my direction.
“Hey,” she says.
“Hi.” I unpack my bag so we can get straight to work. If I’ve learned anything about Lola, it’s that she doesn’t have time to sit around and shoot the shit. “Were you able to get most of your homework done?”
“I think so. At least enough for tonight.” She glances at my laptop. “Do you mind if I take a look at your assignment?”
“Sure, have at it.” As she swivels the computer closer, I shift and the floral scent that clings to her captures my attention. I have to fight the urge to inhale a big breath. It takes effort to clear those thoughts and force down the semi that now stirs in my sweatpants. “I had an hour between classes and was able to get a head start on it. Maybe you can check those answers first before we work on the rest.”
With her attention focused elsewhere, I’m able to study her with more care. How is it that she gets prettier every time I see her?
It doesn’t make sense.
“It looks good so far,” she says, interrupting my perusal.
She points out a few places where the verbiage needs to be altered or a line needs to be inserted to complete the thought, but other than that, I’m actually on track for a change.
Unlike the other times we’ve worked together, I attempt to tackle the problems on my own before she checks them over. In my Comms class, I’m also making more of an effort to pay attention and take notes. It’s a lot of work, but the flip side is that I understand the material in a way I never have before. I guess being attentive in class and completing your own homework on the daily is helpful with that.
Who knew?
Dr. Nichols asked me to stick around after the last lecture and showed me that I received a solid B on my latest homework assignment. Her eyes were narrowed as she fired off a few questions to check my understanding. She looked surprised when I was able to answer them somewhat coherently. I can’t begin to tell you how good that felt.
Take that, Nichols.
Better yet, shove it where the sun doesn’t shine.
So, for this week, I’m safe to play football and my ass won’t be sitting with the third stringers. At the end of the day, that’s all that matters.
“I really hope this compliment won’t come back to bite me in the ass,” she says, drawing my attention to her, “but you’re actually doing a good job.”
“You don’t have to sound so shocked,” I say with a snort.
“Can’t help it.” There’s a pause before her voice dips as if confiding a secret. “The first time I met you, I thought you were a steroid-infused jock, coasting through school on his football prowess and good looks.”
I pop a brow, latching onto the most important part of that sentence. “You think I’m good looking?”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re all right…I guess.”
I scoot a little closer, swallowing up some of the distance that separates us. “On a scale of one to ten, exactly how good looking would you say I am?”
She contemplates the question for a long moment. “Maybe we should discuss how conceited you are instead. On a scale of one to ten, you’re definitely a ten. Maybe even an eleven. The point I’m trying to make is that you’ve turned out to be more than what I expected. And that usually doesn’t happen.”
I find her words oddly touching.
No one—including my own family—has ever said that to me. My looks and my athletic abilities are what people normally focus on. Maybe I’ve become used to and accepting of that as well. It’s strange for a girl who I’ve only just started spending time with to look beyond my shiny exterior to what lies beneath.
Instead of finding me lacking, she actually sees more.
Warmth radiates throughout my chest, flooding to parts I didn’t realize were there.
“Thanks,” I mumble before glancing away, not wanting to meet her eyes when I make this confession. “I feel like a real asshole for admitting this, but I haven’t always worked hard. In fact, what you said is pretty spot on. I coasted through both high school and college on my athletic abilities. People were always happy to do my homework, and most teachers didn’t have a problem passing me through if I didn’t quite make the grade. I think some of them saw it as a way to help out the team and make sure we had a winning season and won state.”