“If you have nothing of value to add to our discussion, don’t disrupt my class.” He pauses, now acknowledging the whole class. “Are we clear?”
He doesn’t wait for a response and just turns around and grabs the stack of papers behind him, distributing them among the rows to be passed around.
“This is a clear layout of what’ll be expected of you over the remaining twelve weeks.” I glance at the paper as I hand it to Declan. “Some of you clearly need more work on your research, while others haven’t even started.”
Mr. Randsen hops onto his desk and crosses his arms.
“And I just want to be clear that I’ve been doing this for a long time, so looking things up for your project just to fill out the worksheet is pretty obvious to me.” After skimming through the paper, I look back up at him.
“Don’t ever expect to have time to work on this project in class,” he continues. “This class is about learning business and economics. We apply it through our classwork, and then you guys apply it to your research.”
He jumps off his desk, heading toward the board. He grabs a dry-erase marker and begins writing this week’s key concepts.
“Hey, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about our schedule,” Declan whispers.
“What about it?”
“The hockey season starts in a couple weeks,” he begins. “The beginning of October.”
“I know.”
“Right, Cam. Anyway, I think it would be good to figure out a routine. I don’t usually have a lot of weekends free. Whether we have a game here or we’re traveling—”
“Still waiting for the point.”
I admit I’ve been kind of a bitch to him, but I won’t let his hockey player charm get to me.
I’ve already been there once.
“The last time we worked together was on Saturday—”
“I’m aware.”
“I’d get to the point much faster if you let me talk, dollface.”
I visibly cringe. So does he.
“Dollface?” I wonder.
“I heard one of my roommates say it once.” He shakes his head. “It sounded so much better coming from him.”
“I don’t think anyone could make that sound good.”
“You haven’t met Zeke.”
Not up close, but I’ve seen all of the guys Cam plays hockey with from a distance. And I hate to admit it, but hewouldsound good saying dollface. He’s got that charm to him. Anything he says would be attractive; even the most vulgar sentence would sound like poetry from his lips.
He may sleep with any woman with a pulse, but from what I’ve heard, he tells you exactly what he wants from you… and exactly what he doesn’t. At least he’s honest.
“Please don’t tell me you’re thinking about Zeke.” Declan’s nose scrunches in disgust, and I mentally note how similar Brinley and Declan look when they do that. “I’d hate to have to tell him my econ partner wants in his pants.”
“The last thing I want is to get into Zeke Harris’ pants.” I shake my head. “I have no idea where thatthinghas been.”
“I’m not sure if we’re talking about Zeke or his—”
“Doesn’t matter. You were making a point.”
I start writing down the key concepts Mr. Randsen is putting up. Declan’s notebook stays closed.
