Sutton Cruz – DJ Parker.
This has to be a freaking joke. Two years of avoiding the guy and this semester he’s blocking my path at every turn. To add insult to injury, Mac assigned us distribution issues, which is going to be just as boring as it sounds.
Where did Waverly find this guy? First the seating chart and now he’s assigning partners for group work? It’s ridiculous. Not to mention insulting.
“I see a few surprised faces,” Mac continues, voice ripe with amusement. “I know you’re accustomed to choosing your own partners for group projects, but you won’t have that luxury in the real world. Few of us get to choose our co-workers and regardless of our personal differences, we have to make it work.”
Beside me, Parker snickers.
“This is total bullshit,” I mutter, tapping my pen on the desk.
“I don’t know. I’m thinking this just might be my lucky day.”
Of course he’s enjoying this. It fits perfectly with his plan to redeem himself in the bedroom.
As if Saturday night hasn’t already done that.
I sigh. Clearly I need to squeeze more Hail Marys into my life because WTF.
When Mac finally releases us for a break, I trudge into the hall, feeling like a prisoner marching to her death. Parker is right behind me and when I turn to face him, he’s all smiles.
“Hey, partner.” He leans one broad shoulder against the wall, hazel eyes dancing with amusement. “How lucky is this?”
“So lucky,” I deadpan.
Parker chuckles, low and deep. “It really is, since we’re neighbors. Just think of all the time we’ll get to spend together.”
I straighten and plant a hand on my hip. “Did you put Mac up to this? Request me as a partner because I was avoiding you?”
His grin becomes a full-on smirk. “So you admit you were avoiding me.”
So much for being obvious.
“Whatever. You’d better be prepared to work because I need an A in this class.”
“Same.” He rubs the back of his neck. “My schedule is a bitch with football, so the sooner we can get started, the better.”
At least we can agree on that much. My schedule is murder, too. I’ve got nearly a dozen Wildcat appearances this week, plus the game against Buffalo tomorrow, which, after my performance last week, needs to be top-notch to get Sharpe off my back.
Hopefully, since it’s an away game, the expectations won’t be too high. Waverly nation is huge, and there will be fans in the stands, but I doubt anyone will expect me to crowd surf.
At least, I hope they won’t.
“I’m really swamped, too,” I admit. “Why don’t we each take a couple of weeks to research and see what we can learn about distribution? Then we can meet up to figure out an angle for the paper.”
Parker narrows his eyes, but when he speaks, his tone is playful. “Is this a stall tactic, or are you just afraid to be alone with me?”
Option C: All of the above.
But I’d choke on my pride before admitting it.
“I have no intention of meeting with you alone.” Not when the mere thought of him is enough to make my body hum with desire. And certainly not while he’s on a mission to finish what we started Saturday night. “We can meet at the library like normal project partners.”
If I had the time, I’d offer to just write the paper myself.
But I don’t have the time, so teamwork it is.
Parker pulls out his phone and unlocks the screen. “What’s your number?”
