“I knew it. Does he have a girlfriend?”
“No.”
“But he’s had girlfriends in the past?”
Emory pinches his lip between his teeth. “No—”
“Then a word of advice—”
Emory looks into my eyes.
“Don’t make assumptions. And maybe tell him you like him. And hey, if he rejects you, my bed is always open for rebound sex.”
Emory looks like he’s about to explode. I burst out laughing.
“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”
“I’ll leave you to figure that out.” The thing is, I’m not kidding. Emory is gorgeous. I would happily invite him into my bed.
“Casey was the first person I came out to. If he were into guys, he’d have told me by now.”
“Have you asked him?”
“No. I don’t make a habit of asking people what their sexuality is. It’s none of my business.”
“Even though he’s your best friend, and you fancy the pants off him?”
“He’d tell me if he was gay.”
“You keep saying that. But what if he’s still figuring it out?” I need to stop talking. Or at least, if I’m going to keep opening my mouth, I should be shepherding this cute nerd towards my bed, not the competition.
Emory furrows his brow.
“Some people don’t figure out their sexuality until they’re older than us. Some people don’t figure it out until they’re old.”
“Dare I ask what you consider ‘old’?”
I loosely clench my fist and tap my knuckles against his knee. “Probably not. Tell him how you feel.”
“Do you really want me to tutor you?”
“Nice change of subject there. Yes, I do. I’m serious about paying you too. And hey, if you help me do well in this essay, I might ask you to keep tutoring me. For money, obviously.” I lean forward so my face is alongside his and whisper in his ear, “Or sex. I’m easy.”
He makes a choking sound and smacks his hand against his face, dislodging his glasses. He takes them off and uses a cloth from his pocket to wipe the finger smears off the lenses. “Money will be fine,” he says in a tight voice. “And let’s see what happens with this essay. I barely know you.”
“Maybe not, but I want to get to know you better.”
His blush brightens and spreads beneath the collar of his coat.
“You are so cute when you blush.”
He puts his glasses on. “Can you start after our lecture?”
I sigh and nod.
“We’ll go to the library,” Emory says in a determined voice. “And to be clear, I’m not going to write your essay for you. I’ll explain the subject matter to you and help you develop a plan, but writing it will be down to you.”
I hold my hands up. “Understood.”
