I roll my eyes, wishing I hadn’t overshared at Christmas.
“I’m not going to do my new tutor.”
“You did the last one.”
Clenching my jaw, I reach for my phone. “Hanging up now.”
“Just go in with an open mind. She’s there to help you, remember?”
“Yeah, yeah.” I grab my bag, checking that my assignment is in there. “I just hope she’ll see things my way and do me a solid, you know?”
“You mean do the assignment for you?”
“Of course that’s what I mean.”
She laughs. “Just put on some of that Wily charm and I’m sure she’ll be putty in your hands.”
I grin, scratching my whiskers and hoping my sister’s right. This tutor chick didn’t seem overly chill and pliable when I spoke to her on the phone, but maybe I’ll have more impact in the flesh, you know? Face-to-face is always best.
“Okay, I really gotta go.”
“Yeah, me too. Have a great sesh, brother, and text me after, okay?”
“’Kay. Love ya, butt face.”
“Love you, too, shithead.”
With a grin, I pocket my phone and head into the library, grateful for Blake’s call. I was feeling kind of dark about this whole thing, but my little sister’s right. I need to find my inner chill and friendly smile. Girls love me, and this one will too. I just have to play my cards right, put on a flirty smile, and work my magic. I’ll have her eating out of my hand by the end of the hour, and then I can enjoy the rest of my winter break knowing my assignment is being taken care of.
CHAPTER 3
ELIZABETH
Wily is so late, and I’m getting antsy. If he hadn’t texted me a few minutes ago, telling me he was nearly here, I would have bailed on the guy. It’s so disrespectful! Like my time’s not as important as his?
Typical.
Athletes are all the same—arrogant jocks who think the world should revolve around them. Like sportsmanship is more commendable than brains or creativity. I don’t know why we revere them so much. As far as my experience goes, they’re nothing special. If anything, they’re just a bunch of mean bullies or oblivious jerks.
The guys at my high school weren’t cruel in the same way the girls were, but they still knew how to make me feel like a waddling disaster.
I actually heard one of the boys call me that once in our mandatory PE class. Much to my terror, the teacher said that every person playing basketball had to touch the ball at least once. She wanted to see full participationfrom the entire class, which meant I couldn’t just loiter near the sidelines like I usually did.
Forced out of my comfort zone, I shuffled closer to the action so I could get my turn out of the way. Of course I turned over the ball. Of course I lost my team a point, and the groans of annoyance were impossible to miss.
“She’s a waddling disaster,” one guy muttered darkly, and I’d dipped my chin, begging the minutes to tick by faster.
I mean, walking disaster was bad enough, butwaddling? That was really driving the stake in a little too far.
As soon as that class ended, I ran ahead of everyone else and got changed as fast as I could. I waddled my ass away from the school gym and walked home in the freezing-cold rain without a jacket or sweater in the hopes of making myself sick, just so I didn’t have to face another PE session.
It worked. I came down with a decent cold and had three blissful days off school. It was a nice reprieve, but then I got better and had to go back for more punishment.
Thank God I don’t have to do PE in college. I enjoy my morning walks, and that’s all the exercise I need, thank you very much.
Picking up my phone, I check the time again and huff, about to text Wily back with aI’m sorry, but I really have to go.
But then I sense movement behind me and glance over my shoulder in time to see the blond giant appearing at the top of the stairs. He pauses, glancingaround and raising his chin at someone. His smile is so broad and friendly.
