Page 13 of The Jack*ss in Class

“I am also your new tutoring assignment.” I held the door for her as we entered the business building. “So really, this is a trust-building exercise.”

“This,” she gestured between us, “is you wasting both our time. You don’t need a tutor.”

“Maybe I just want to spend more time discussing literature with a beautiful woman.” She was fucking beautiful.

She yanked open the door to the business building before I had a chance to get it and hold it open for her. I tried again as we entered the classroom. “How is nameless bonkey doing? After his brush with fame?”

Something flickered across her face. Worry? Guilt?

“The donkey is fine.” She took a seat near the front. “And his name is not Donklet.”

“Fernando Lamas? Ooh. Tell me you’re friends with a llama too.”

“No.”

“Wanna be friends with my goose?” Sir Honksalot was, like, a thousand years old, and he wasn’t mine, but she was going to say no, anyway.

“Stop.”

“I know a hilarious rooster.”

She pulled out her marketing textbook with what seemed like unnecessary force. “Flynn. One jackass in my life is enough.”

I dropped into the seat next to her, ignoring her glare. She’d just called me a jackass and I wasn’t the least bit insulted. Most women practically fell at my feet, which was exactly the way that I liked it.

But verbally sparring with Tempest was more fun than I’d had in... years. Okay, so she wasn’t on the slate to be one of my two-week girls. Didn’t mean I wasn’t going to have just as much fun poking the bear, or rather donkey, this semester.

Real life started in just a few short months once I was drafted, graduated, and started playing in the pros. Might as well make the most of my last semester.

“Your life is definitely not full enough. I volunteer as tribute to help you fix that.”

“Mr. Kingman,” Professor Calloway’s voice cut through the pre-class chatter. “How nice of you to join us. I trust you’ve done the pre-reading?”

“Of course.” I pulled out my own book, but not beforecatching Tempest’s surprised look. “Chapter one: Marketing Analytics in the Digital Age. Did you want to discuss the case study on data-driven decision-making, or should we start with the ethics of predictive modeling?”

Tempest’s textbook slipped off her desk.

I caught it before it hit the ground, unable to resist leaning close as I handed it back. “You know, if you keep looking shocked every time I know something, people might start to think you’re operating under some unfair stereotypes about football players.”

She wasn’t quite smiling, but she wasn’t glaring either. And she hadn’t moved away when I’d leaned close to return her book. Which meant I could get in one more poke at her.

“I got it,” I whispered as Professor Calloway started class. “It’s Donkey Hoetee de la Donkey, isn’t it?”

This time she did smile, just a little, before firmly opening her textbook.

This semester was going to rock.

BATPHONES AND BOYS

TEMPEST

"Sup?” Parker spun away from her laptop and sucked on the straw of her ever present iced coffee. At this point, she should just mainline it. “How was your day? Make any life-altering decisions? Hide any farm animals? Get assigned to tutor any hot football players?”

I dropped my bag and stared at the corner of our room. “Why is there a kiddie pool on our balcony?”

The two of us had worked out a temporary schedule so we could get to classes and extra-curriculars without ever leaving baby donkey home alone. And honestly, the brunt of the donkey-sitting so far had fallen on Parker’s shoulders since a lot of her classes were virtual.

I think she’d managed by consuming an inordinate amount of caffeine.

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