I reach out, snatching at the book, but Chris jerks it away, eyes dancing. “Easy, Professor. You might strain a pectoral.” He wags his brows, then catches me glaring and raises the book above his head, right in my line of sight. “Bet there’s a lot in here about communication. Want me to email Tatum some hot quotes?”
“Bro . . .”
“I’m sorry.” Chris laughs. “But catching you with this in your bag is just too good.”
“You know what? Never mind. I don’t want it back,” I say, brushing off their laughter. “You keep it. You need it more than I do, anyway.”
This stops Chris short.
His laughter fades, his smile morphing into a frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” I shrug. “It’s just like I said. Those booksarepretty educational. I’ve learned a lot of my best tricks in books just like that.” I nod toward the pink paperback and Chris shifts on his feet, his gaze darting to West who shrugs.
“I mostly read thrillers,” West says. “But even those can occasionally be educational when there’s a romance subplot.”
“See?” I say, my expression smug as I sink back into my seat, sipping on my coffee. “You probably need it more than I do.”
Chris’s gaze flicks back to me, eyes narrowed. “Did Charlotte say something to you?”
I laugh. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
With a huff, he flops down into the chair across from me, opening the book again, and reading with a quiet intensity like he’s studying for a doctorate.
Jace snickers. “Stop fucking with him, will you? This’ll be all I hear about for the next week.”
Chris glances back up at me. “Areyou just messing with me?”
“You should’ve seen your face!” I cry, and he chucks the book at me, then thinks better of it and snatches it back.
“No. You know, what? You don’t get it back. You’ll have to sit there and wonder whether the highlander changes his bad boy ways.”
“Then you’ll be disappointed to know I already finished it.”
Chris harumphs and cracks the book open again.
“As much as I’m enjoying this entertaining distraction,” Damon chimes in, sinking down into the sofa and kicking his feet up on the coffee table in front of us, “it’s time to spill your guts.”
“Who me?” I point to myself, and Damon nods.
“I have nothing to spill.” I blink like I have no idea what he could possibly be talking about, when really, I’m hoping I’m wrong and he’s not referring to my situationship with Tate.
Damon’s brows rise. “It’s been more than a week since we’ve been back at school and you found out Tatum has a boyfriend, and ever since, you’ve been playing like a flaming dog turd. So, I’m gonna ask again as your QB. What’s. The. Deal. Spill it.”
I take a sip of my coffee, stalling for time because this is the last thing I want to discuss with them. I know they’ll only give me shit for not having the balls to tell Tatum how I really feel. “Why are we getting coffee right before practice when we’re having an epic heatwave and about to run our asses off on the field?” I ask, staring at the paper cup like it’s the most interesting fucking thing in the world.
It’s not.
“Because coffee is the only thing keeping Jace from driving to fraternity row and punching someone in the face today,” Damon says dryly, stretching out his legs like he owns the place. “Andbecause you clearly need an excuse to sulk in public.”
“What’s up with you?” I ask Jace, seizing the opportunity to take the spotlight off myself.
He shrugs. “I caught Stanley Henderson ogling Brynn’s ass this morning on the quad when I walked her to class.”
“I was there.” Damon laughs. “Thought he was gonna lose his shit.”
Jace drums his fingers on the arm of the chair. “That prick doesn’t deserve to even look in her direction.”
“I sense a story here,” I say, glancing between them.
