Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 66289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
I don’t care what she says, it’s a date.
And it’s going to be the hottest fucking date she’s ever had.
Chapter 5
Irie
He’s early.
I walk through the automatic doors at Belhaven Library and find Talon standing in the center of the atrium—hands deep on his pockets, head cocked, and eyes lit the second they steal mine.
“Study rooms are taken,” he says. “But I found us a quiet corner on the third floor.”
I tighten the grip on my bag. “Thanks.”
He turns on the heels of his pristine sneakers and leads me to the stairs. “How was your Thursday?”
“Amazing,” I say. If he knew me, he’d know how much I loathe small talk. But he doesn’t know me so I won’t hold it against him.
Surprisingly, he picks up at the sarcasm in my tone, chuckling under his breath as he glances back at me.
We climb another level of stairs and arrive at the third floor, where he leads me to a cozy corner in the paleontology section.
“I’m getting some major Land Before Time vibes here,” I say as I take a seat in an orange chair with scratchy, pilled fabric.
“Really? Because I was thinking more along the lines of Jurassic Park,” he says, sitting beside me. “The original. Not the new ones. The new ones are shit.”
I shrug. “I wouldn’t know.”
His jaw falls. “Wait. You haven’t seen the new ones?”
“Nope.”
“Then you should,” he says.
“You literally just said they were ‘shit’ a few seconds ago,” I say. I know where he’s going with this. He’s going to invite me over to watch them with him. “I’ll pass.”
“You didn’t let me finish.” He holds up a hand big enough to wrap around a football. “They’re shit compared to the originals. But they’re still decent. Jurassic Park movies are like pizza—even when they’re bad, they’re still good.”
“Nice save, but I’m still going to pass.” I check the time on my phone. “We should get started …”
“Right.” He grabs a notebook from his bag and flips it open to a page scribbled in hot pink ink—his notes from the first day of class. A moment later, he scoots his chair closer to mine, so close, in fact, that I can smell the hot, sweet cinnamon wafting from his mouth. “Where should we start? What it means to be human or the importance of evolution to anthropologists?”
“First one.” I pull my notebook out, along with my tablet, and then I grab my textbook. “You read the first thirty pages, right?”
Talon’s dark brows rise and he blows a breath between his full lips.
“You didn’t do the required reading?” I ask.
“He never said anything about reading …”
My brows knit and I tuck my chin. “Yes he did. The first day …”
I’m not sure how he could have missed it. Longmire only brought up the reading assignment four separate times. Maybe if he wasn’t so busy shamelessly staring at me from the corner of his eye …
“You’re going to want to read the first two chapters tonight,” I say. “It’s only thirty pages, but it goes a lot more in depth than the lectures did.”
He scribbles a note to himself on his paper. “Chapters one and two. Got it.”
I inhale another lungful of cinnamon, watching his steady hand glide the pen across his paper. He has great handwriting, especially for a guy. It’s neat and straight and legible, all lower-case with extra kerning between the letters.
But I don’t tell him that because it’s irrelevant and I don’t want him thinking I’m that easily impressed despite the fact that I’ve always been a details kind of girl.
“Why are you taking Anthro 101 anyway?” he asks.
“I needed another elective. You?”
“Retake,” he says, lips pressed flat like he isn’t proud of his answer. “Screwed around too much freshman year and had to take an incomplete.”
A couple of girls with matching Lululemon leggings and messy topknots stroll past us, taking their time in hopes that Talon Gold might notice them, but he doesn’t look away from me. Not once.
I’m sure if I weren’t here, he’d be all over that. He’d be all smirks and eye-fucks and piling on the charm like there’s no tomorrow.
I’ve seen it before. I’ve seen him in action too many times to count in all his BMOC glory.
This is nothing more than Talon Gold on his best behavior.
His fingertips graze the top of my knee, sending a kickdrum start to my heart.
“Did you hear what I said?” he asks. His touch abandons my skin, leaving an electric tingle in its place.
“No. Sorry. What?” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
“I said we should read our notes and then quiz each other,” he says.
How I missed that, I’m not sure, but I give him a nod. “All right.”
Sinking back into my seat, I scan the words on the page, only by the time I get to the next set of bullet points, I can’t remember any of what I’ve just read.