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)
Almost gleefully, I needle him the same way he enjoys poking at me. “You know what’s funny? I didn’t think the class was hard at all. In fact, I’m pretty sure I got an A.” I send him a faux pout. “Looks like you’re having the opposite experience.”
My reward for the comment is a glower.
There’s no longer a smile in sight, and I can’t help but relish it.
“Nichols is a fucking dragon,” he grumbles.
“No way.” I shake my head and grin. “I found her to be a real sweetheart. If you get on her good side, that is.” Which clearly, he isn’t.
“That woman doesn’t have a good side.” He glares at the tests and quizzes that fill his hands. “She’s intent on making my life hell.”
For a morning that started out like complete shit, it’s improved dramatically. Knowing that Asher won’t be able to skate by in Dr. Nichols’ class with his good looks, charm, and football prowess has lightened my mood considerably.
I’m almost giddy.
Sucks to be him.
Ah, well…time to take off. I’m late as it is. I’m just about to skip away from the scene of our accident when he waves around the stack of failed tests.
“If I don’t pass this class, I’ll end up getting benched. And I can’t afford for that to happen. Not now when we’re headed into the playoffs and so close to the championship.”
Oh my god, is he actually trying to make my morning better?
It takes every ounce of self-control to keep the laughter buried deep inside.
Asher might not realize it, but this is a little something I like to call karma. I’d tell him that, but I have the feeling I’d have to explain the concept in painstaking detail, and I don’t have time for that. Plus, I’d probably need a dry erase board. My guess is that he does better with stick figure drawings.
And pre-school level picture books.
I shrug. “Hmmm, that sounds more like a you problem than a me problem.” With a smile and wave of my fingers, I step around him, ready to haul ass. “Good luck!”
Instead of allowing me to pass, he slides over, blocking my escape. The smile fades as I glare. I’ve had more than enough of this guy for one morning. Make that a lifetime.
“Get out of my way, I’m late for class.”
He ignores the directive. “Look, taco girl—”
My eyes narrow. “You know that I have a name, right?” There’s a beat of silence. “And contrary to what you think, it’s not the idiotic nickname you’ve come up with.”
One thick brow slides upward as he cocks his head. “What’s wrong with taco girl? I think it fits you perfectly.”
All my lighthearted happiness goes up in smoke as I grit my teeth. It takes effort not to snap them like a wild animal. This is the only guy I’ve ever encountered who makes me lose my composure in the blink of an eye.
“Lola,” I grunt. “My name is Lola.”
“I’m gonna be perfectly honest—I don’t give a rat’s ass what your name is. What I do care about is keeping my grade above a C- so I don’t get my ass benched.”
I sweep my tongue across my front teeth. “Seems like that’s going to be a challenge. Maybe you should head to your advisor’s office and find out if there’s an easier class you could transfer to that doesn’t involve any real brain power. Or…you could just quit the team. Then you wouldn’t have anything to worry about.”
He gives me a well-honed death stare. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen. Football is the most important thing in my life, and I won’t let that dragon take it away from me.”
“As much as I admire your fighting spirit, kindly discuss this with someone who actually gives a shit.” I cup my hand around my mouth before dropping my voice. “Here’s a hint—that’s not me.”
He tilts his head and gives me a considering look. “I could use a tutor, and since you’ve taken the class before and know exactly what that woman expects, you’d be the perfect one to help me through the rest of the semester.”
Laughter rises in my throat as tears leak from my eyes. “You can’t be serious.”
I’m not sure what world he thinks we’re living in, but that is not going to happen.
Like, ever.
His blue gaze sears mine as he warms to the idea. “I’m as serious as a heart attack, taco girl. My guess is that you don’t follow football, but this season is an important one. If I’m not out on the field, doing my job as a safety, it affects whether I get drafted and play in the NFL.” He raises a brow. “Understand?”
“Here’s what I understand—you have an entire semester of shitty grades. If football was so important, then you should have been working hard this entire time instead of trying to kick your ass into gear at the last minute.”