Page 16 of Stay
I plaster a smile across my lips and wait for my next appointment, interested to see how far off base she is today. A few seconds later, the smile falls off my face as Cole strolls into the room. As soon as he sees me, he stops, obviously just as surprised as I am. But that doesn’t stop the wide smile from settling across his handsome face.
There’s that shit luck again.
I can’t seem to catch a break where he’s concerned.
My eyebrows lower as I glare. “You keep turning up like a bad penny.”
The kiss we shared the other day is, at this very moment, rolling through my brain and I can’t make it stop.
Brooklyn is probably right. I need to get laid if I can’t stop thinking about one tiny, insignificant kiss that shouldn’t even be on my radar.
But yeah, it is so on my radar.
Cole steps into the small room we use for math tutoring before lowering himself down across from me. His tall frame makes the room shrink around us. His golden gaze doesn’t relinquish mine, which only heightens my awareness of him, along with my discomfort. That’s all it takes for my nerves to hum.
“And here I was thinking this was more serendipitous than anything else.”
That has me snorting.
Serendipitous my ass…
But I can’t actually say that to him. This is my place of employment. Even if it is just a few hours a week, it’s important I maintain a professional manner. Eyeing him, I realize that’s going to be impossible and wonder if a potential firing looms in the near future. The problem is that I need the small amount of money this job brings in.
It’s the thought of being let go from my position that has me saying, “Maybe it would be best if you work with a different tutor.”
His brows slide together in genuine confusion, as if he doesn’t remember the stalker accusations I recently hurtled in his direction. Or that I flipped him the bird.
“Why would I want to do that? Don’t you know Calculus II?”
“Of course, I do,” I shoot back before thinking better of it, “I took it in high school.”
He stares for a moment. “You took Calc II in high school? Wow. I’m impressed. You’re obviously a math genius. I only made it through pre-Calc. And I pretty much wanted to shoot myself the entire year.”
I shrug, not liking how this conversation has backfired on me. It’s becoming a pattern.
When I remain silent, he asks, “What year are you?”
I bite down on my lower lip before reluctantly admitting, “Freshman.”
It’s technically true. What I don’t bother to mention is that I should really be a sophomore. It’s none of his business.
“You’re a freshman taking Calculus III?”
The question makes me fidget on my hard plastic seat as a slow grin tugs the corners of his lips upward. The way his dimples wink from across the small table that separates us, sets off a little flurry of excitement, which is impossible to stomp out, within the confines of my belly.
“Yes,” I mutter, giving him my bestI’m-trying-to-make-you-uncomfortable-so-that-you-leave-me-alone-and-never-come-backstare.
He whistles, oblivious to the subliminal messages I’m directing his way. “And you understand Calculus II?”
Is he for real?
Of course, I understand Calc II. I could probably do it in my sleep.
“I passed with a ninety-eight percent.”
“In high school?” His brows shoot up.
“Yes,” I ground out uncomfortably. Leaving and never coming back doesn’t seem to be uppermost in his mind.
