Page 31 of Unloved

Why is he joking about this?

She dips down toward him, her messy braid swinging down to brush against his skin. She whispers the question, but I hear every word.

“Is the profile yours?”

This time, his eyes close entirely, like he’s taking a punch and not flirting with an eager female. My brow furrows further.

“Ah.” He nods, shrugging with that same too-big smirk. “A man never kisses and tells.” He presses a finger to his lips before nodding toward where she seems to have forgotten my presence at the table.

“I’m in the middle of a tutoring session and don’t want to be rude, but I’ll catch you at the party later.”

It seems to be enough to appease the girl, her entire bodyseeming to float away with the lightness that Freddy injects into everyone around him. But he looks… exhausted. Worn down completely.

I want to ask him what is going on, maybe find out why he looks like he’d rather pull his own fingernails out than go to that party. But I also want him to stop looking likethatbecause my chest is starting to ache.

“You got almost half right,” I say, feeling cruel giving him a bad grade when he still has the expression of a beaten dog. “But I think we can stop for today, because I left my other material at home.”

“Or we could go for another hour,” he says with a shrug.

“I don’t think your fan club would love me for that.”

The snarky taunt slips out of my mouth before I can stop it, my eyes widening when I realize what I’ve just said.So much for professionalism.

And yet it seems to light him up.

“Jealous?” An open grin crawls across his face. “Don’t be. Underneathallthis is a one-woman man,” he says, running his hands down his body to emphasize his point. The gesture makes my face tingle, heating at even thehintthat Matt Fredderic might be flirting withme.

“I have a boyfriend,” I say, ducking my head to focus on the papers in front of me.

Do you?I think.Because it’s looking like he spent all summer feeling up some blond Yale genius when you were supposedly dating.

“And I score on defended nets all the time.” Freddy shrugs, then leans across the now-too-short table to peer up at me with playful eyes and a pretty smile. “The goalie makes scoring more difficult, not impossible.”

Three years ago, this would’ve been a dream. Now it only serves to make me squirmy and hot. I can’t remember the last time anyone flirted with me. Tyler was my first boyfriend, and with him it was never playful; it was almost overwhelmingly serious.

“Besides.” His hand tugs lightly at one of my springy curls that’s fallen in his way. “I love a challenge.”

I jolt back, pulling away from his sudden closeness.

“You have to stop.”

“Stop what?” he asks, expression suddenly innocent despite the flicker of excitement still clear in his emerald eyes.

“Y-you—” I huff, shoving my curls back off my neck. “You know what! The…thatthing!” I point at him, my voice still nothing but a harsh whisper. “Theflirting. I need to focus.”

“Am I distracting you?”

Distracting is one thing, but it’s more… unsettling. It doesn’t feelreal. It feels off, somehow, like this is some continuous play that I didn’t agree to watch.

“I’m trying to be professional,” I say, keeping my tone soft, but serious. “Please, Freddy.”

My phone buzzes again—probably the tenth call in the last few minutes.

The playful look that is usually permanently fused to Freddy’s face melts away to a light concern. “Seems like someonereallywants to get ahold of you, Ro.”

“Yeah.” I frown, stomach rolling, because I know exactly who it is, but am unwilling to admit how regular an occurrence this is. I click the phone over to Do Not Disturb before shoving it into my bag. “Okay, let’s focus. I promise to get you out of here on time. Now, did you get the audiobook?”

“Yeah.” Pink colors his cheeks and he scratches the back of his neck. “You were right, Dr. Fincher is a lot better about handling stuff.”

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