Page 32 of Off Limits

I cock my head to one side, place my phone facedown on the table, and roll my hand to invite explanation.

He chuckles. “You sent a text telling me you were here and to come get you when I was ready for dinner. So …” He spreads his hands wide. “Here I am.”

My eyes pop out of my head and roll around on the floor. Okay, not really, but it feels like they might, so wide do my eyes fly open. I sputter and gasp, flailing for my phone. “What are you talking about? I did not. I sent that to Autumn.”

But oh. Oh no. I did not send that to Autumn.

Imeantto, but must’ve hit the wrong name from the list of messages, and I did in fact send that to Simon. Burying my face in my hand, I let out a soft moan. Well, what’s done is done, and here we are.

Straightening, I give Simon a polite smile. “I apologize for the misunderstanding. That text was intended for Autumn. I never would’ve …” I trail off, my cheeks heating into what I know to be a fiery shade of red. I can’t believe I ordered Simon to come take me to dinner. I clear my throat. “You don’t have to have dinner with me. I’m sure you have better things to do.”

He spreads his hands again, a guileless look on his face. “I’m here, aren’t I? I mean, if you don’t want to have dinner with me, I won’t force you. But youdidsay that you like me. And that you find my behavior confusing. I thought this was your way of making things less confusing.” He studies me for a moment, and I do my best not to shift in my seat under the quiet, heavy weight of his gaze. “Even if you didn’t intend to ask me to dinner,” he continues, “I still think it would be a good way to … clear some things up.”

“Clear some things up,” I repeat, leaning my chin on my hand. “What things, precisely?”

He shrugs, his big shoulders shifting under his dark gray button-down shirt. “Whatever things you’re confused about.”

I ponder that, staring at his eyes that seem to sparkle with mischief, the tiny smile still playing on his full lips, the hint of scruff roughing up the line of his jaw. Is going to dinner with him a good idea? Despite my intentions of having dinner with my roommate, she actually has no idea that I’m waiting for her to get out of class because I didn’t, in fact, send that text to her. So there’s technically no reason for me to say no to Simon. At least not on that account.

And if he’s planning on clearing the air … given that the other option is just to end things here and now, what’s the harm in taking him up on his offer of dinner?

I eyeball my half-eaten parfait.

“Unless—are you not actually hungry now? I can get a snack here, and we can go in an hour. I have some reading to work through too.”

“Oh, uh, no, that’s fine. We can go now. Any excuse to quit working on statistics is a good excuse for me.”

He chuckles and reaches for my textbook, lifting it up enough so he can see the cover. “Ah, yeah, I took that last year. Dr. Simmons isn’t known for being the most clear with his instructions. Are you having a rough time?”

A weak, self-deprecating laugh accompanies my nod as I close the book and stuff it in my backpack. “You could say that. I’m used to getting As, and I’ll be lucky to pull a C for the semester at the rate things are going.”

He stands as I zip my bag closed, picking up my pencil and handing it to me. “I could help you, if you want. I got an A in that class. I’m good with statistics.”

My eyebrows jump up my forehead as I accept the pencil. Simon’s just full of surprises tonight. “Really? You’d do that?”

He shrugs and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Sure. I can help you out. We can look it over after dinner, even. At least get you headed in the right direction.” He takes one hand out of his pocket and lifts it like maybe he’s going to touch me, but then he diverts the action to scratching his own face. “Maybe we can figure out all the sources of your confusion in one evening,” he says in a low, rumbly voice that’s powerful enough to make me swoon. If I were the swooning type, anyway.

Instead, I let out another one of my patented self-deprecating chuckles. “I’m not sure that’s possible, but I appreciate the offer to try.”

The look he gives me makes heat wash over my body. “I’m always happy to try.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Simon

I have no idea what I’m doing right now. Well, I mean, the obvious answer is that I’m taking Ellie to dinner. But what it means? It means I’m afraid she’s about done with me and my bullshit and it’s time to shit or get off the pot. Which is a horrible expression to use in this situation, but it’s the best I’ve got right now. Words have never been my strong suit.

Actions? Naturally. Numbers? They’re clean and precise, and there’s no quibbling over what two means. Two is two. One, two. The end.

Words … words are fluid and amorphous and changeable. Words can mean different things to different people. And that kind of uncertainty doesn’t do good things for me.

Which is why every interaction with her has been both so easy and so hard. On the one hand, she’s as direct and forthright as numbers, at least with me.

On the other hand, getting involved with her is complicated.

But the thought of her not answering my texts anymore makes me feel like my chest is caving in. When she just came right out and said she likes me but that I’m confusing her, I wanted to cheer and then kick my own ass at the same time.

“I think you might like me too,”she said in her text. And … seriously? You onlythinkI might like you? Was me caging you against the wall at the party and asking what you’d do if I kissed you not enough of a clue?

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