“We can still be friends,” I offer.
She turns her head away from me, unable to meet my gaze. “Friends don’t kiss. Friends don’t want to rip each other’s clothes off.”
“Friends with benefits do,” I add.
“You need a tutor more than another girl to hook up with,” she says, looking at me again.
“And you want to be my tutor?”
She smiles. “For a price.”
I frown.
Everyone wants something from me. Money, status, or an invitation to a party. Why would she be any different?
“You won’t pass the class without my help,” she says, and I know she’s right.
Judging by my grade on the quiz, I don’t understand the material. She knows it, too.
I cross my arms over my chest, and her eyes roam over my body. “What’s the price?”
“Same as before. Fifty bucks an hour.”
“Is that all?”
She tips her nose to the ceiling, thinking over my question. “No, that about covers it.”
“I’ve never felt more used in my life,” I admit.
She chuckles. “Put yourself in my shoes three years ago, and then we can talk about feeling used.”
Even though I told her I wanted nothing more than sex that night, she still hasn’t moved on from the past.
“Give me one month,” I tell her.
She cocks an eyebrow at me. “For what?”
“To prove you wrong.”
Sam smirks, her silence louder than words.
Our time together this semester is my chance to prove I’m worth her time. That I’m not the guy she remembers. Now, I have to make her see that people can change.
Chapter 16
Sam
The library is impressive with its high ceiling and gothic architecture, making it easy to get lost inside and find hiding places. I found mine years ago. The top floor offers some refuge from the crowds downstairs. Before I tutored students independently, I worked at the tutoring center on the first floor. Now, I prefer the solace of the stacks containing reference books.
It smells of dust, furniture polish, and aged parchment up here, but it’s my favorite place on campus. I come here often, and now I’m about to share it with Tucker Kane.
Hidden between a row of old microfiche machines, I flip through my notebook. No one can see me over here, nestled between several bookshelves. Occasionally, I sit by the window, at the only desk on the floor, but I don’t want anyone to see me with Tucker.
The librarian checks this floor twice daily, usually making her rounds once in the morning and again before closing. I don’t expect her for a few more hours, but other students wander up here occasionally.
I can’t take any chances with Tucker. He had suggested tutoring him at his house. That was a definite no for me. After what happened in the SAC the other night, I can’t be alone with him. Not entirely, anyway.
With an exaggerated sigh, I check the time on my cell phone. Tucker is late. Shocker. I’m used to the jocks on campus making appointments and either bailing or showing up late. He could have called or texted.
