“You’re a good captain. That’s the thing. Hockey is part of it, but it’s not the thing. The thing is that people want to be in the room with you. That’s a real thing. You can’t teach it.” I pause. “Cap.”
He rolls with me on the bed, landing on top of me. He kisses my nose. “You think you’re so funny.”
I smile up at him.
He kisses my smiling mouth. “I need to get up and get ready now, but I really don’t want to leave this bed.”
“I have to get up too eventually.”
He groans against my neck.
I laugh and say, “I’ll see you at four.”
He looks at me and smiles. “You’re on my schedule.”
Thursday moves along.
I shower, and then I get dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. I braid my hair in his mirror. The kitchen has a banana on the counter with a small sticky note on it that saysLucy. I eat the banana standing at the island. I pour a small cup of coffee and drink. I feel a little more comfortable today in the silence of the Hawthorne House. I glance around the living room and notice the stains on the ground, the pushed around décor, andthe shoes at the door. This house has seen some days. It’s fully lived in a way that makes me smile.
I walk to my Topology class, which only takes me twelve minutes. And it’s exactly what I needed to refresh my mind. The proof of theorem 4.3 lives across most of a page in my notebook. Then off to Real Analysis. I take more notes.
I do tutoring desk hours from eleven to one. Karen is at the front desk when I come in. We have our normal small talk, and I update her on the student’s progress. I eat a burger at the dining hall with Gianna and Mara, and then head back to the library. I do some homework and plan my tutoring session with Benson.
I take the stairs to the third floor and notice that 3B is occupied, so I wait around until the people leave. When they’re leaving, I jump to my feet and enter the room once they’re gone. I sit at the table with my notebook open. I pull out the pencil case, highlighters, and open the textbook to chapter seven.
The door opens at three fifty-six.
I look up and smile. “Hi.”
“Hi, Lucy. How’s your day?” He closes the door behind him, and my heart is jumping wildly in my chest. He’s wearing jeans and a polyester long sleeve that hugs his muscular arms nicely. He smells so nice that I could tear into him right now.
“I had a good day,” I answer. It started off great, and now I’m happy all over again.
He smirks. “Same.” He looks at the things laid out before me and then takes a seat across from me. He places his elbows on the table and glares at me.
My smile falters a little under his stare. “Ready to start?”
He shakes his head. “We have a few minutes until we have to start.”
I look up at the clock. He’s right. I bite the end of my pencil, and he watches.
“Do you always bite your pencils?”
I snap it away from my mouth and blush. I look at it and shrug. “I don’t know.”
“Is it a nervous thing?”
I take a moment to think. “It’s a thinking thing.”
“Hmm,” he hums.
“Why?”
He reaches down and pulls out the pencil he stole from me from our first tutoring session and says, “Why do you think I took this?”
“What?” I ask, surprised there’s a reason. Jocks don’t normally pay attention to detail.
He shows me the pencil and says, “Your bite marks are on it, so I took it.”
