“We’re not dating,” Vaughn tells him. “And you’re married. I’m going to tell Dan you’re hitting on my friends.”
Rick laughs good-naturedly. “My husband is a smart man; he’d understand.”
I find myself smiling back at him. There’s something about his deep timbre and sparkling gray eyes that make him less intimidating the longer you’re in his presence.
“Come on. We can study in my room,” Vaughn says.
In the hallway we pass by tall, standing lights and sound equipment and a rack of men’s clothes.
“My dad is doing some interviews for a documentary,” he explains.
“That’s cool.”
Vaughn shrugs.
“Or not,” I say with a laugh as he steps into a room at the end of the hall.
“They’ve completely taken over the house. The TV in the living room is gone and all the furniture is different. This morning, I had to wait to shower because they wereafraid the microphones would pick up the sounds.”
“What is the documentary about?”
“His soccer career mostly. Probably stuff about my mom and their life when he was playing too. The media loved them together.”
“Is that weird?”
“Probably, but it’s been weird my whole life. Now it’s just normal.”
I glance around his room as I shrug out of my backpack and drop it to the floor. It’s neat and organized. Navy walls make the space feel moody and dark. There’s a bookcase on one wall, filled with more trophies than books. A soccer ball rests on top of a dark-wood dresser. I pick it up and run my palms over it as I face him.
Vaughn sits on his bed. His notebook and laptop are spread out in front of him.
“I like your room.”
He looks up as if just seeing it, but his gaze quickly settles on the ball I’m holding.
“That’s the first soccer ball my dad ever bought me.”
“Really?” I glance down at the worn, grass-stained ball.
He nods.
“I played soccer once.”
“Really?” One brow lifts with the inflection in his voice.
“One season when I was a kid.”
“I’d have liked to see that.”
I spin the ball around in my hands and then place it back on top of the dresser. The way he watches me makes butterflies fill my stomach.
“So,” I say suddenly feeling shy again. “Imaginary numbers. I’ll give you a hint; they aren’t imaginary.”
“Right.” His stare drops to his laptop.
I move to sit on the bed next to him. He explains the issue and I talk him through it. It’s clear quickly that it really wasn’t necessary for me to come all the way here to help him. Vaughn has learned a lot in a short time. There are still areas where he needs more practice to feel confident, but he’s more than capable of passing the test and keeping his grade up if he continues to put in the time.
“Do you feel ready?” I ask him after we’ve gone over every section that will be on the makeup test tomorrow.
