Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
“No— you can’t. Not yet, because you haven’t solved this here,” I say, rapping the tip of my pen on the other side of the equation. Textbooks and papers are spread across the bed. Finn has put on a pair of boxers, but I’m still naked, lying underneath one of the expensive sheets.
“Ok. I get it.”
“Really?” I ask doubtfully.
“Yes,” Finn says. “But it’s still useless.”
“That’s an argument high schoolers make,” I say, rolling my eyes at him unapologetically. He frowns at me, but I can tell from the glint in his eyes that he knows I’m right about that one.
“What time is it?” he asks, raising up on his elbows to look over me. He kisses my shoulder blades as he does so, and it sends a current rippling down my body. “I have class in an hour.”
“What class?”
“Reading, I think?” he plays ignorant, shrugging like he doesn’t quite know the title.
“English?” I answer, failing to hide a smile.
“That’s the one,” Finn says. “Then one of my major courses. Then I’m at practice till late. So, mathlete, I might not see you again today. Unless I can drive you to class.”
“Drive? You have a parking spot?” I ask, astounding. A parking spot on the Harton campus is more valuable than a Friday-free course schedule.
“Naturally. Football perk,” he says cockily, and I shove him. “How about it? Where’s your first class?”
“It’s on North Campus—”
“Great, we can go together.”
“I just um…I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I finish. Finn looks confused, so I go on. “All the faculty know my mom, so they all know me and Mandy. If someone sees us together and realizes we aren’t…uh…a normal tutor-client relationship, then it’ll just cause all sorts of problems. And I’m just starting work on my application for Dr. Reams’ summer internship…and besides, I’ve seen the way all the local papers and football nerds treat football girlfriends. It’s a nightmare.”
“Girlfriend?” Finn asks, and my face goes dark red.
“Not that I’m saying we— I don’t mean that now that we’ve had sex I’m…it was just a figure of speech.”
Finn leans over and kisses my shoulder again, this time lifting his eyes to mine as he does so. “I’m not offended by the word girlfriend.”
“Oh,” I say, relieved, happy, a little alarmed. Was I okay with the word “girlfriend”? I hadn’t been someone’s girlfriend before, but the idea of being Finn’s made my stomach fluttery.
“Though,” Finn says, turning over to lie on his back, “you might be the first person I’ve ever dated who wants to keep it all on the down-low.”
“Technically, we’ve never dated. We’ve just had sex and learned math.”
“Lies. I took you to breakfast.”
“And then got arrested.”
“I’ll take you back there. Make it up to you.”
“Are you kidding? Do you know how mad Dr. Reams was about that? If you want breakfast with me again, you’re going to have to make it yourself,” I say, and roll over against him, wrapping my bare legs around his.
“Deal,” he says. “You underestimate me. My dad wasn’t around, remember? Yours truly was in charge of breakfast on Sunday mornings. And I was a line cook at IHOP in high school. You’re going to be tired of pancakes by the time I’ve had my way with you.”
“That’s…the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard. You made breakfast? Like, for you and your mom?”
“When she was home,” he says, shrugging. There’s something to the way he says this, something weighted.
“Was she one of those early-morning-church-on-Sunday types?” I ask cautiously, unsure if I’m potentially complimenting or insulting his mother.
Finn laughs again, but this time there’s not much humor in it. “Hardly. She was one of those out-late-Saturday-night types. Sometimes I wouldn’t see her at all between Friday afternoon and Monday.”
“Oh,” I say, gathering myself— his words hit my mind like a brick, and I’m not quite sure how to recovery. “That’s…not fun.”
“It was life,” he says, and shrugs it off, but I can tell by the way he’s avoiding my eyes that it isn’t just life— that it’s a wound that hasn’t entirely healed. “I need to get going to class.”
“Alright. I need to go too,” I say awkwardly. I’m disappointed that he shut down, but not necessarily surprised, either. We both rise and begin to dress. I’m sore, especially for the first few moments. Finn notices, and concern clouds his face.
“I didn’t really hurt you, did I?”
I shake my head. “No. I just…you’re big, Finn.”
He grabs a shirt from his duffle bag and tosses it to me, along with a pair of sweatpants. The clothes smell like his laundry detergent, and I inhale their scent.
Finn lets me off at my apartment, so I can change clothes. Mandy knows where I was this time – I texted her last night so she wouldn’t worry -- but that doesn’t stop her from looking angry when I walk in. In fact, I reason that’s why she looks angry. The expression is gone in a flash, though, and I realize it’s because Bradley is sitting on the couch.