“Do you have dyscalculia?”
He blinks at me. “Huh?”
“Dyscalculia. It’s like dyslexia, but with numbers.”
His head tilts to the side, and he kinda reminds me of a puppy. I really want to reach out and scratch him behind the ear. Tell him he’s a good boy.
“Maybe,” he mutters with a shrug. “I’d never even heard of it before.”
“You should speak to Professor Mayfield. Tell him what you’re struggling with and maybe he can help you.”
And with that, that conversation is done. I dive into helping him to the best of my abilities, and after around an hour or so, he seems to have a slightly better grasp on thesubject than he did when we started, though he complains the entire time.
Small wins, I guess.
My laptop is discarded on the floor in front of me, and we both sit with our backs to the couch, huddled together so we can see his screen better. He points something out to me, and I lean over him to get a better look.
Just as I’m about to sit back and resume my place next to him, the door slams open and I hear a growly voice bark out behind me, “What thefuckis going on in here?”
Oh yay, Cole’s home.
I straighten before climbing to my feet and turning to face him.
Cole’s not alone. He has his sister, Noah, and Logan with him, who all stare at us with shocked expressions.
Harley jumps to his feet and stands behind me, his hands up in a surrendering gesture, but before he can even open his mouth, Cole has him by his throat and is backing him up against the wall.
“I’m only going to ask one more time. What the fuck is going on?” Cole snarls.
Harley coughs and splutters in his hold, and the poor guy can’t even get a word out because of Cole’s hold on him.
I stand, completely mystified at the chaos around me. The others are seemingly as lost as I am as they stare at their friends in horror.
Jesus Christ, I guess I’m going to have to be the one to stop this.
“Cole,” I say sternly, but he ignores me, instead continuing to stare down at Harley with fire in his eyes.
“Cole,” I bark, and he flinches almost imperceptibly before muttering something under his breath and dropping hishold. He takes a deep breath before turning to face me, and his glare probably matches mine.
“Enough,” I demand, and the room goes silent.
He opens his mouth as though he’s about to give me a snarky comment before clenching his jaw and continuing to stare me down.
“I’m helping him study, dumbass. It’s not like I was fucking him on your living room floor. Besides, I’m not your girlfriend, pretty boy. I’ll fuck who the hell I like.”
He cringes, like he’s just realized he’s gone full-on possessive asshole over me, and I inwardly grin.
In truth, I’d absolutely be the same. Just the thought of him touching someone else has fire boiling in my veins and makes me itch to grab my knife and carve some bitch’s eyes from their face.
Focus, Lana.
This is about him, not me.
“Sort your shit out, Cole. Now, apologize.”
“Wha—”
“Apologize,” I insist, and he mutters a sorry to his friend who’s still slumped against the wall, his hand caressing his neck.
