I smile. “I updated everyone but Tucker. He just finished.”
He points at the chair Tucker recently vacated. “Have a seat.”
I do as he instructs, reaching for the red pen on his desk, but before I can lift it, he covers his hand over mine. A ripple of shock and fear floods my veins.
What is he doing? I stare at him, eyes wide and confused.
“Don’t mistake my absence for ignorance, Miss Marchand. I’m always aware of what’s going on at this school. Do you understand?”
What the hell is his problem?
A pang of anxiety crushes my chest, stabbing me. My life is hard enough. I don’t need another complication.
“Yes, sir,” I say.
He releases his hold on my hand, allowing me to sit and grade Tucker’s paper. I see why Tucker asked me to take it easy on him. I circle the bright red D at the top of his paper and add it to the stack of quizzes inside the pocket of my organizer.
He will need my help passing this class.
Too bad he won’t get it.
Chapter 13
Tucker
Grinding my teeth, I stare at the computer screen, furious with Sam. “She gave me a D,” I tell Trent, who’s sitting on his bed.
“Did you study?” Trent’s tone is accusatory, mocking even, because he damn well knows I didn’t have time to study.
“Yeah, I studied. She has it out for me.”
He cocks an eyebrow at me, glancing up from his phone. “Who?”
“The teaching assistant. We fucked at a party, and now she hates me.”
Trent laughs and continues typing a message to Jemma. That’s all he does anymore. Sit on his phone and talk to his girl. “You must not have fucked her good enough.”
“She was a virgin,” I confess. “I didn’t know.”
He makes a face as if thinking over what I just said. “You need to fix it. Smooth things over with her.”
I snort. “Nothing will work on this girl. She hates me.”
But she let me get close enough to touch her leg on the first day of class. She can’t hate me that much. Not when she didn’t even try to push me away.
“Maybe it’s your approach,” he counters. “Hey, baby, want to see my stick-handling skills won’t win her over.”
I laugh. “Fuck you! I don’t say that to girls.”
He rolls his eyes.
“Time to switch up the game,” I mutter, considering his comment. “How do I do that?”
“Find out what she likes. Start there.”
“She works at Broad Street Beans, so I guess she likes coffee.”
“Just because she works there doesn’t mean she likes coffee, you idiot.” He shakes his head and sets his phone down on the bed. “Her screen name on Strick Net is Heir of Slytherin, right?”
