“C.”
“So you’ll pass.”
“It’s not the class I’m worried about passing; it’s the proficiency test I need to get into these programs.”
“Right, so put the stupid textbook away. I started high school in AP Spanish, and believe me, I’d never touched a textbook.”
I raise one eyebrow. “Now, now, don’t be modest.”
“I’m not bragging, I’m saying all you need to know you can learn with conversation. Let’s just talk.”
So we do.
Well,hetalks. I struggle to grab a thread of conversation when a Spanish word rings a bell, then stumble my way through a response that I hope reflects even a loose connection to the topic at hand. It should be a humiliating exercise, but he doesn’t make it one. Just like at the restaurant, he’s a goodteacher and he’s patient with my mistakes—at least until I start trying to roll myr’s as smoothly as he does.
“Keep it simple,” he says after cringing his way through my attempts atperro,torre, andzorro.“Tryarroz.”
I try but my tongue seems to get stuck against the roof of my mouth halfway through.
“Okay, you’re not even close,” he says, clearly attempting to hold back a smile. “But keep trying.”
“Let me hear it again,” I say.
“Arroz.”
I can’t help but stare at his mouth and the way his full lips come together in a half pout. “Once more.”
He pauses, and I wonder whether he knows my real motivation for asking. I mean, his eyes have watched my lips all through this last hour, but does his mind wander as far from Spanish as mine does? “Arroz,” he says for me. Why are foreign languages so damn sexy?
“How are you so good at that?”
“Lots of practice.”
“You have lots of practice at rolling your tongue?” I can’t help but smile as heat blooms at the back of my neck.
A wicked look flashes across his face. “Hey, if you want to talk about sex, we can do that, but I’m trying to focus on Spanish here.”
I laugh. “Right. Have you ever in your life put school before sex? Even once?”
“I’m doing it right now.”
“What, some jersey chaser was trying to make plans in your bedroom this evening?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
To my shock, he looks almost shy for a fleeting second. “Forgetit.”
I don’t want to forget it. I want him to keep talking. But before I can ask the questions I really want to ask, Reeve pushes his chair back.
“We’re done here, right?” He stands and slides his phone into his back pocket. “Come on, I want to show you something.”
I follow him up the carpeted stairs to the fourth floor, which contains only offices and a heavy steel door with a red sign that readsWarning! Alarm Will Sound. But when he pushes it open and holds it for me, there’s only the sound of me stepping into a cold metal stairway. He glances at me but says nothing, his eyes lit up like he’s about to reveal some delicious secret. At the top of the stairs is another door and, on the other side, I find myself on the flat, expansive roof of the library with a sweeping view of campus.
I glance around, expecting, I don’t know, something interesting, but it’s empty except for two battered old metal chairs. “So this is what you wanted to show me? A roof, huh? Wow. I’ve heard of these things but never had the privilege to glimpse one in real life.”
Reeve acts like he doesn’t hear me.
