Tim laughs loud.
Suddenly I feel a heavy presence at my back.
George. I know without checking. Still, my body demands I glance over my shoulder at the man. Just to take in how good he looks in his casual clothes.
Damn him for still being handsome.
“You want to grab them now?” Tim asks, pulling my attention back to the group. “I’m about to head out.”
“Grab what?” George asks, his voice stiff.
“Some study materials,” I explain, reaching out to drop my empty plate in the trash. “Tim’s giving me his old books.”
George flicks a look between us. “I have some. I can give you mine.”
My muscles clench in an automatic protest. It’s weird, this dueling force in my body. How I viscerally don’t want help from George, but if he were to offer to lay me out in the bed of his truck and make me see stars, my body would already be trying to shimmy off my jeans.
Makes no sense.
What also doesn’t make sense is how I’m grateful to accept Tim’s books but prickle at the idea of George’s.
Maybe it’s because Tim is offering them to be kind, while George just feels obligated.
Still, I reluctantly give him an opening. “Do you have them here?”
George frowns. “No.”
“Well, Tim does. So I’ll just go with his.”
If anything, George frowns harder. But then his face clears and he gives a short nod.
“I’ll walk with you.”
“I…okay.”
Tim appears unperturbed by the third, unnecessary addition to our group, rattling on about his first solo cross-country flight as we stroll toward the entrance. He clicks a button on a key fob, and the lights on an SUV blink. When he pops the trunk, I’m relieved to seethat although there’s some clutter, it doesn’t look like a hoarder’s stash. I was joking about the mice.
We have enough of those already.
Tim hands me four study manuals, each one thick with information I can’t wait to devour.
“Here. Just a second.” Tim pulls open his driver’s side door, leans in, and comes back with a pen. He opens the cover of the book on the top of the stack in my arms and scrawls a phone number inside. “Text me if you need me to decipher my random margin notes.”
I chuckle. “Sure thing. Thanks again.”
Tim waves and climbs into his car. I head to mine, eagerly flipping through the first few pages of the top book. Despite the worn edges, these books are new. Much newer than the few I found in the library and at used bookstores.
“You don’t need to text him,” George says. I glance up in time to see him watching Tim’s taillights leave the parking lot.
“What do you mean?”
He takes off his baseball cap to rub a hand over his skull, then replaces it. “I’m going to be your instructor. I can answer your questions.” I bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep from snapping back, but he must see something on my face. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me.”
I roll my eyes, then give in. “I still haven’t decided about the lessons.”
