My jaw dropped. I did the math in my head. That was twenty hours a week, plus the game. How the fuck were they supposed to study? I shifted in my seat, the realization of what was expected of them hitting me like a ton of bricks. Then I thought of the theatre, music and art departments. They had to rehearse, to practice and do their studio time too. An artist friend of mine spent so much time in her studio painting, designing and doing all of her other art things all the time when she wasn’t in class. It wasn’t that different except for the physical aspect. Artists didn’t usually have those pecs.
“Okay, so when do you study?” I asked, looking at his schedule and trying to find where he had free time.
“Mornings are good in between classes, I guess. Nights are okay after seven usually. I think I would prefer to do this at night, if you don’t mind. I mean, I think I’m your only client, right? That has to be good for you too.” He leaned back in his chair and smiled at me. It was a beautiful smile. I think I said how his smile was like an aphrodisiac to me didn’t I? Well this one was lopsided and the stuff of much fantasy. Damn him.
“Nights are fine.” I pulled out a sheet of paper and scribbled some possible times on it for him. “I think this will work. I guess it won’t be that great for our social lives during the week, but it gives you time to eat and shower.” I really didn’t want him to shower. I wanted him to show up sweaty and hot. I took a deep breath. I had to screw my head on straight, Fuck… screw.
I scooted the paper over to him and he picked it up and grinned at me. I waited for him to tell me that this was too much. His face lit up.
“This is great. Looks like it will work. Every weekday except on away games when I have to travel of course. I… uh… I have a schedule I can bring tomorrow, if that’s okay?” he took it and put it in his pocket. “Is it okay to do it here?”
“Sure. Why not? I live off-campus but I know you guys have to live in the dorms, and I’m sure that would be uncomfortable for you… this will be fine.” I pulled out my planner and started scribbling MASON in the nine PM slot of all my weekdays for the next few weeks. “Once we get you through mid-terms we can slow down a little. I am supposed to help you with your other courses too. I am going to assume you don’t need help with the classes in your major unless you tell me, okay?”
“Sounds great, Coach.”
I felt a shiver crawl up my spine. Coach… I liked the sound of it, the power I had over him.
“Cool. I need to know what it is you want to write your paper on, so you should figure that out before tomorrow, and I guess that’s’ it. Any questions?” I asked. This was rote to me, but with Mason it felt different.
“Yeah… You know a friend of mine… uh… Gwen?” he said, his face turning beet red. I noticed that his fingers were digging into his palms.
“Gwen? Political science major always dyes her hair fun colors? Yep. We are friendly. I know her best friend. Why?” I realized that this meant he’d asked about me. Why would he do that? Why would he ask Gwen?
“I just… I don’t know why I said that,” he said bashfully. “I guess I just wanted you to know that I wasn’t a complete asshole, or something. There’s more to me than the gridiron, I guess.”
“Well, I would hope,” I snapped.
“So tomorrow? It’s a date?” He looked at me with his eyes downcast. What in the hell. Strange words to use. Straight boys always confused me.
“Sure… If that’s what you want to call someone who’s paid to be with you, why not.” I said, knowing full well that I was calling Gwen tomorrow when I could think straight.
He stood up and held out his hand. I slowly reached out and took it as he helped me to my feet. Damn… He really needed to stop being a gentleman. He had no idea what it was doing to me.
Or did he?
Is that why he wanted me to know about Gwen? He knew I was gay… Not like that was a secret or anything, but he was using that to make me help him. To make me want to help him.
Shit… was this flirting? If it was, he really needed a little help, but I wasn’t tutoring him on that. He would have to figure that out himself.
I needed to get out of here.
“See you tomorrow ,Mason,” I said as I dashed out of there leaving him behind as quickly as I could.
As I exited the library, I took a deep breath. Mason McKendrick was confusing the hell out of me.
Why?
Mason is the most frustrating human being that I have ever had the displeasure of meeting. He’s so high and mighty because he’s on the fucking football team. He’s a second-string quarterback. It’s not like Mason is the big man on campus, even if he acts like it.
Dammit. I’m spending too much time thinking about the son of a bitch. I could pretend like he’s just another student I have to tutor if he wasn’t so goddamned gorgeous. Those piercing blue eyes and that mop of dark messy hair that just begs you to run your fingers through it, is driving me fucking mad. Every time he breathes, his impressive shoulders and chest stretch the fabric on his stupid t-shirt begging me… No, demanding me to stare at him. To want to touch him.
And that damn husky laugh…
I’m in trouble, and there’s no way I can deny it. I promised myself that I would never go through what I did with Erik, ever again. I can’t fall in love with another straight boy. Last time almost killed me, and I still have the scars to prove it. I pull down the sleeve to hide the small ridge of discolored skin that still brings me shame.
Mason is straight. I have to stop thinking about him, even if he does kind of flirt with me. He just does it to get a rise out of me, the hot bastard. He thinks that if he flexes his muscles and smiles at me enough, I will help him pass his stupid art class. It won’t. I’ll do my job, but he still has to pass the class himself.
