“Well, you can count on me to neither know nor care what you do on the field. How’s that for warm?”
A slight smile curves his lips, but he only looks at me. A silent Reeve Dalton isn’t something I ever thought I’d see, and for a second I’m caught in the silence, wondering what he’s thinking and why, for once, he’s not saying it. But then I remember I don’t care.
I turn back to my car. “Anyway, I’m out of here.”
“This your ride?” he asks, looking at my white clunker of a vehicle.
“No, mine’s the Range Rover over there. I just figured I’d ransack this shitbox for loose change.”
He smirks that same cocky, delicious smirk as before. “You ever do anything nice with that mouth of yours?”
The question silences both of us. I don’t know what he meant by it, but it’s impossible not to let my mind take a brief but dirty turn as I look at him over my shoulder.
His eyes linger on my lips for an instant. “See you around, then,” he says, already turning away. “Drive safe.”
I climb into my car and start the engine but sit there and watch him in my rearview as he gets into an old nineties-looking Bronco painted black and green. He jams the car into reverse and peels out of the parking lot as though he’s performing for a crowd of hundreds.
What an asshole.
FOUR
reeve
It’s a perfect early-September morning,and my Bronco, fresh off a repair, starts up smooth like she knows it’s going to be a good day. There’s a hint of fall in the air, the mornings just cool enough for a jacket and the first leaves transitioning from green to gold. I hit the weight room before my first class, then crush my Spanish quiz. Too bad Spanish doesn’t do a damn thing for my football career; it’s always been my best subject.
After my business communication class, I have a long break before my afternoon class. I’m at the busy student union waiting for my buddy Cash when I catch sight of Maisy over by the sushi bar counter, staring me down, hands on her hips. Just when I thought I was having a great day.
Maisy Hartnell is Cash’s twin sister. She’s petite, whip-smart, and a nice enough girl who also happens to be a total hard-ass if you hire her as your tutor—which, unfortunately, I did.
“Reeve Dalton,” she scolds loudly as I approach. She holds up her phone, showing the text thread between us. “What the hell is this text about?”
“What up, girl? You’re looking good. What am I seeing here, a new haircut? Fresh threads?”
“More like five solid hours of sleep,” she says humorlessly, brushing a lock of curly hair off her neck. “Now stop bullshitting.” She thrusts her phone toward me like I forgot what I wrote to her last night. “Why would you want to put tutoring on hold? We’re finally starting to make progress.”
“Progress? Like a C instead of a C minus? Sorry, Mais, but I can’t find the extra time. I have too much to do right now.”
“I don’t need to hear about your sex life.”
I laugh. “Forgot how well you knew me. But I’m serious. I’ve got school, football, and now this job. I have no time for tutoring.”
“At least stick with one session a week,” she pleads.
I shake my head. “Any extra time I have goes to training. Period. That’s my priority.”
“You don’t have to tell me football is important. My brother’s on your team, so I get it. But come on, you owe it to yourself to work a little harder in school. So what if it takes you extra time to read or for material to sink in? Reeve, you’re really smart.”
“Uh-huh.” My gaze flicks around the room.
“I mean it. I started this as a favor to Cash, but I didn’t expect tutoring you would actually be satisfying.” Maisy’s getting loud, animated. A few students look over to see what has her so heated. “Once you catch on to things, you really get them and you think deeply. You don’t even need me to teach you much beyond some study habits that work with your brain instead of against it.”
I’ve been hearing this since middle school:You’re smart, but ...I still can’t figure out how anyone can think that’s encouraging. Millions of people are “smart but,” and millions more arejust plain smart, no “but” needed. I know I’m intelligent, but ADHD and dysgraphia have always made school challenging for me. Thank god I only have a few months before I’m done with school forever.
I shake my head. “You know I appreciate you helping me, Mais, but it’s a waste of your time. Tutor someone who cares about academics. My degree is never gonna do shit for me. It’s football or nothing.”
A mess of dark, curly hair appears behind Maisy as Cash sneaks up on her. “Leave this man alone!” he bellows into her ear, making her jump.
“Fucking asshole!” she snaps, smacking her brother on the arm.
