Page 12 of Rules

She clears her throat. “Need some help?”

Chapter Five

BROOK

What the hell just came over me? Why did I think this was a good idea? Obviously, I didn’t think, because if I did I’d have known this has disaster written all over it. But looking at his tired, frustrated face, his hair mussed from all the times he’s run his fingers through it, dark bags underneath his eyes, I couldn’t just leave him alone. Not when I knew, or at least supposed, how difficult all of this is for him.Whythis is so difficult for him.

Yes, Maximillian Sanders got on my nerves. I’m not even going to try and deny that. From the first time I saw him, he rubbed me the wrong way. I think it’s because of the way he pretends to be something he’s clearly not. The bad boy persona he’s trying to present to the world is bullshit if I’ve ever seen it.

When Miss Rodriguez paired us up to work on that Spanish project at the beginning of the year, I thought he was just one of those lazy jocks. Not interested in studying and putting in the work, but just waiting for somebody else to pick up the slack while he waits to take the credit in the end. Turns out I was wrong, because the more we worked, the more I started noticing little things.

Like the fact that his brows would always furrow when he was trying to read. He’d mumble and curse underneath his breath, probably not even aware that he was doing it out loud. His hand would rub his temples or between his brows every so often, trying to ease the tension. And don’t even get me started on the time he needed to actually finish reading the material, only to lift his eyes to mine and just for a second, I could see desperation and dread flash in his gray irises before he promptly masked them.

The guy was struggling, but of course, he didn’t let anybody know it.

“So…” I wave in the direction of the timeline I helped him draw on a piece of paper, prompting him to continue summarizing the information that we’ve been through while making it. My fingers cover short notes we’ve written, leaving only one thing open for him to concentrate on—the Battle of Gettysburg.

It didn’t take a particularly smart person to realize what he’s struggling with. Reading wasn’t his strongest point, but when presented in the right way, he not only understood it but managed to grasp the concepts quickly. Reading from the textbook wasn’t just frustrating for him, but also boring, so when we work together, I’d make sure to read the material and summarize. Mental maps and timelines seem to help too. Carefully chosen keywords, important dates, places, and people organized in a visual, easily understandable and organized way were the key for him.

The only problem was, he needed help getting to a point where studying on his own was easy. And we’re not talking about somebody who’d do it all for him and just hand over the materials, but somebody to sit down with him and help him make the materials, while audibly summarizing and explaining the importance of this or that and how it fits in the bigger picture.

I listen to him carefully as he tells me everything about this particular battle, nodding my head in encouragement.

We’ve been going at it for a while. The worry marks have erased from his face, and he hasn’t rubbed his face for the last five questions, so I call that a win.

Once the words die down, he lifts his head, the big smile on his lips blinding me.

I always knew Max was handsome. With his messy black hair and piercing gray eyes surrounded by thick lashes, nobody sane and with two working eyes could deny it.

He says something, but the only thing my mind can concentrate on is the way his pinkish lips move so close that if I leaned forward just a bit I could taste them.

Surprised, I blink, but that doesn’t change anything.

He’s still here.

So far in my personal space that I can smell the soap on his skin mixing with some kind of deodorant or cologne and something that’s just plain Max. So close I can feel his minty breath touching my cheeks. So close I can feel the warmth of his body that’s almost, but not quite, touching mine.

“Brook?” He looks at me, confused and weary. “Did I not get it right?”

Shaking my head to get out of my dazed state, I plaster a smile on my lips. “Nope, it’s perfect. You’re going to ace this.”

He laughs nervously and I can feel that soft, husky rumble in my bones. “I don’t know about acing it, but I do feel more ready now than I did an hour ago.”

It’s already been an hour?

My head snaps up, looking at the clock on the wall. Yup, almost a full hour.

A warm hand covers mine, making me tense. I look up, finding those silvery eyes staring at me. A warm, easy smile curls his lips making my breath hitch and my skin tingles in awareness.

“Seriously, thank you. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without your help.”

The lump forms in my throat, but I gulp it down. Pulling my hand from underneath his, I close my books.

Go. I need to go.

My body misses his warmth almost as soon as it’s gone, but I ignore the protest and keep moving. Working on picking up my stuff and tossing it all in my backpack, I stand up quickly, brushing a runaway strand of hair behind my ear.

“It’s nothing.” I force a smile. “I should probably go. The next class is about to start, and I can’t miss it.”

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