Page 17 of The Jack*ss in Class

“Tempest’s brilliant.” Flynn’s hand was still on me, slowly creeping across my back. “I’m lucky she agreed to help me.”

I shrugged off his hand. “I didn’t agree. I was assigned.”

“Even better.” He grinned down at me. “Fate.”

“That’s not—” I started, but blondie was already backing away. She gave me an interesting look that, if I didn’t know better, was jealousy. Nothing to be jealous of. Guys like Flynn Kingman weren’t ever interested in me.

“Well, have fun studying.” She gave a little wave. “Text me later?”

“Can’t.” Flynn was already steering me toward the library doors. “Probably be at this for hours. Shakespeare’s complicated, right, tutor?”

I waited until the other woman was out of earshot. “What are you doing?”

“Getting tutored?” He held the door for me with an exaggerated flourish. “Unless you’d rather go over Beatrice and Benedick’s antagonistic flirtation techniques out here?”

“There’s nothing to tutor you on. We don’t even have homework yet.” I tried my best to speed-walk to the area with the study carols, but I should have remembered that Flynn could keep up. He had earlier today too.

“Consider this a preview.” He followed me into the quiet of the library. “Besides, you still haven’t told me the bonkey’s name.”

“That’s because?—”

“Is it Eeyore-udite? Get it? Because he’s clearly very smart, running circles around the football team like that...”

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. “No.”

“Sir Francis Bacon Bits? No wait, that would be better for a pet pig.”

“Do you ever stop?”

“Not when I’m winning.” He dropped into the chair next to mine as I tried to set up at an empty study table. “Come on, one hint? Is it literary? Historical? Sports-related? Does it involve puns?”

I pulled out my notebook, but kept it firmly shut, determined to ignore him.

“It’s definitely pun-related, isn’t it?” He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “I bet it’s awesome. I bet it’s the best donkey name in the history of donkey names.”

“No.”

But I was smiling now, despite my best efforts not to.

And Flynn definitely noticed. Dammit.

FOR A GOOD TIME CALL…

FLYNN

It was a good thing I basically already had enough credits to graduate, because if I had more than the three classes this semester, my combine prep practice schedule would be wrecked. I could have just skipped this last semester like a lot of guys who were a shoe in for the draft did.

It wasn’t like I was going to go get some job with my business degree. I’d done a lot of marketing to make sure my pro ball player brand was on point.

But no Kingman went onto the pros without a degree.

Did give me a whole extra semester at DSU with a light load, which meant time to play the field for a few more months. But week one of the semester was already down, and I didn’t have anyone on the line for my first two-week round. But it was Saturday, and I was on the way to hit the gym, then headed to...

I spotted her right away, sitting at a corner table in the campus coffee shop, hunched over what looked like three different textbooks. The sunshine streamingthrough the window caught the shine in her messy dark hair, making it shimmer. Today she was wearing a dress covered in tiny book spines, and I was staring far too hard. Trying to read the titles printed on the fabric, of course.

Change of plans. Poking at the grumpy girl who was ready to shoot me down again was way more fun.

I put the hood on my sweatshirt up and headed inside to quietly order two cups of coffee. They poured those at the register and I waited so no one would call out my name. I didn’t need her spotting me and bolting.

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