“Read it before I’m guessing?”
“I prefer hockey players, but football players will do in a pinch.” She winks at me.
I can’t help but laugh though.
“Thank you. Appreciate it!”
“Come back anytime!”
* * *
When I get backto the apartment Joss and Violet are spread out across the dining room table, an array of Chinese food and papers scattered across the surface.
“Hey sexy! I ordered us some take out if you want some.” Joss smiles at me.
Violet glances up and gives me a barely there smile, before her eyes dart back to her paper.
Well, fuck.
“Grading tonight?”
“Yep. Fucking freshmen. They all think they’re a lot smarter than they are and it shows.” Joss shakes her head.
“Be nice, they’re trying, and we were freshmen once too.” Violet chides her.
“Please, I was born badass.” Jocelyn flicks her hair over her shoulder and they both giggle at the gesture.
“Not everyone is as perfect as you Joss. Have mercy.” Violet shakes her head, her little red pen tracing over the words in front of her.
“Care if I join then? I’ve got some studying I need to do for Geography before I can sleep.”
“Of course.” Jocelyn kicks out one of the spare chairs toward me, and I sit down.
Her eyes drift between me and Violet, and they narrow for a second, but she thankfully chooses not to say anything. Instead offering me some rice and Mongolian beef. I take it and pull out the chapter notes I need to go through before my quiz tomorrow. The three of us eat and work in relative silence for several hours until Jocelyn stretches her arms and declares herself exhausted.
“I’m going to bed, you two have fun.” She looks at both of us again and then disappears to her side of the apartment.
“I should go too.” Violet stands abruptly and starts gathering her papers together.
I close the map I’ve been trying to take a mental picture of for the last ten minutes and watch her put her things together.
“Do you want to watch something?” I ask hedging my bets.
She doesn’t look up at me, just continuing to tuck the papers back in the folder and the folder in her messenger bag.
“Um, I don’t think I can stay awake long enough to watch a whole episode.”
“What about reading a chapter or two?”
Her hands still on the closure of the bag, and she clears her throat.
“Um, about that—“ she starts, and I can tell I’m about to get an explanation and a lot of excuses, so I pull the book out that I bought and slide it across the table in front of her.
“I thought you could read to me.”
Everything I say to her feels like I’m gambling. Normally with women, I know. I can read them, and I know if they want me or not. I can usually reasonably guess the right thing to say or do. Growing up as the only guy in a house of them taught me a lot of that. And it was a skill even my friends came to me for when their relationships were on the rocks. But with Violet I am always flying blind.
She picks up the book, her lips quivering a little when she sees the football player on the cover and a full-on smile breaking out as she turns it over and reads the synopsis.
