Page 12 of The Jack*ss in Class

I grinned, coming up behind her. “Looks like fate wants us to spend more time together.”

“Fate has nothing to do with it.” She spun around,waving her phone. “This is ridiculous. You clearly don’t need tutoring.”

“Team captain,” I reminded her. “Setting an example as an athlete scholar and all that.”

“Right.” Her eyes narrowed. “And your extremely detailed analysis of Beatrice and Benedick’s emotional defense mechanisms was just what? Lucky guessing?”

“I contain multitudes.”

“You contain something.” She turned to go, but Gryff blocked the doorway.

“Sorry,” he said, not looking sorry at all. “Getting a text from Artie. Very important. Can’t move.”

Tempest’s phone buzzed again. “I have to get to my next class.”

“I’ll walk you.” Didn’t really matter if I was late to my next class, did it?

“I think I can make it two buildings over, but thanks.”

No way. Maybe fate was conspiring in my favor. “Marketing Analytics with Professor Calloway?” I asked innocently.

She froze. “How did you?—”

“What a coincidence.” I shouldered my bag. “Me too. We can walk together.”

“I’m off to the weight room,” Gryff called after us as Tempest started powerwalking down the hall. “You two crazy kids have fun.”

I caught up to her easily, my longer stride matching her quick steps. “So, how’s our mutual friend doing?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know, about yay high.” I held my hand at waist level. “Gray. Sparkly wings. Excellent footwork.”

“The wings were temporary.”

“Ah, so you admit there is a donkey.”

She shot me a look that could have melted steel. “There was a donkey. At a pep rally. That’s all.”

“Named...”

She frowned at me and kept on walking.

“Is it Donkey McDonkface?”

That got me the smallest twitch of her lips. “No.”

“Sir Brays-a-Lot? I grew up with a goose named Sir Honksalot. He was cool as shit.”

“No.”

“Eeyore 2: Electric Boogaloo?”

She actually snorted at that one, then immediately tried to cover it with a cough.

“Come on,” I wheedled. “Give me a hint. Wait, is it Shakespeare themed? Bottom? No, no, Donklet, Prince of Denmark?”

“You’re ridiculous.” But she was fighting a smile now.

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