Page 26 of Unloved

She steps toward me, away from the other TAs, and a real smile takes over her face. A little of the anxiety in me fades. Mostly because when Ro looks at me, I don’t feel like she’s judging me.

She might be theleastjudgmental person I’ve ever met.

“Hey,” she says, her hands wrapping around her spiral-bound planner. “How did it go?”

“You tell me,” I say.

She adjusts her backpack a little, turning to the side. “Got it in here, so I’ll let you know soon. But I’m sure you killed it.”

Pretty sure I bombed the thing, but I’ll take whatever misplaced praise I can get.

“Ro,” a voice calls from the top of the lecture hall where, at the main entrance, Tyler Donaldson and his gang of assholes in boat shoes are now standing. “If you want a ride, you need to come. Now.”

The rough command makes me tighten fists at my sides, especially when Ro’s tawny skin heats in embarrassment, turning rosy gold where I can see along her profile.

“Right,” she calls to him. “Just… wait for me by the car. I’ll catch up, promise.”

Tyler rolls his eyes and stalks out into the hallway. I have to ball my hands to keep from flipping him off and yelling something back at him like, “Do your khakis come like that or do you have to shove the stick up your ass yourself?” But I manage to hold it in when Ro breaks the tension with a little laugh and tucks back a curl.

“Sorry about that,” she says a little awkwardly.

My brow furrows.She’sthe one apologizing?

I hate the guy. He’s never had a nice thing to say to me, and I can’t imagine how his need to put others down doesn’t leak into his friendships and relationships. In fact, after the party and my chat with Ro before diving into the pool, Iknowit does, and I hate him a little more for it.

Tyler says I look like a dumb little kid.

Fucking asshole.

I tighten my grip on my backpack, cracking my knuckles a little with the movement.

“I… I should go. But I’ll see you—”

“I have to ask.” I stop her, my hand grabbing her wrist as she’s started to leave. “Why the hell are you dating that asshole?”

Her cheeks turn darker.

“That’s an inappropriate question to ask me. I’m your tutor. And your TA,” she stammers.

There’s a dangerous thrill zinging up my spine, distracting me from the dwindling crowd around our professor and my actualreason for staying after class. Making Ro blush and stammer might be a new favorite pastime of mine—great for me and my desperate need for distraction; terrible for her and my grades.

I grin a little and shrug, carefully raising my hand to scratch the back of my neck and stretch, watching with glee the nervous dart of her eyes to the exposed sliver of my lower stomach.

“Not that inappropriate for a friend to ask, though.” I lean in to where I’m nearly whispering in her ear. “And aren’t we friends?”

“We aren’t— I mean, Freddy—” Ro huffs and grabs my arm, yanking me toward the wall, as far from the students lingering by the lectern as possible.

“C’mon, Ro. Let’s just agree to be friends.”

“It’s inappropriate.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I shrug, smirking sardonically. “Just think about it. Might make the whole study partner thing a little more bearable for you.”

“Bearable?” she asks, her brow and nose scrunching as she looks up at me.

God,I hate talking about this. I can almost feel my hackles rising, along with my frustration at the way she’s playing this. I push those feelings down and smile as I pull at the end of one of her braids. “Yeah. Somehow you got stuck with me, the dumbest kid in our entire school. Three-year reigning champion. I’m going for the sweep.”

“Freddy.”

---