I fumbled for my sunglasses and cleared my throat. “Nice to meet you. Uh…so you’re the statistics guru?”
He raised a single brow and flashed another slow grin. “I prefer the term ‘mad math genius.’ ”
I chuckled. “All right…”
“Did you bring your book?” he asked with a smile.
I tapped the side of my bag and nodded. “Yep. I have about an hour before I have to get back on the road. I figured you could look over the book and make sure you’re interested before we discuss money.”
“Sounds fair.”
“Um…cool. So should we do this here or…” I paused when a figure behind us waved and called out something I couldn’t quite hear over the chattering girls on the opposite side of the bench. “Hey, I think your boyfriend is trying to get your attention.”
Rory glanced over his shoulder and returned the gesture before turning to face me with an unreadable expression. Not quite defensive, but definitely guarded. “What makes you think he’s my boyfriend?”
“I saw you together and um, you know…”
“Ahh. So you were spying on me?”
“No! No, I was just sitting right here and I—”
“Dude, I’m kidding.” Rory snickered. “You can take a picture if you want. It’s cool by me. But for the record, James isn’t my boyfriend.”
“He’s just a guy you kiss,” I said in a flippant attempt to strike the right amount of nonchalance.
“Sometimes,” he replied evasively.
“Right. Where should we go?”
He stared at me for a long moment, then hooked his thumb toward the path I’d come down. “The library is close enough. Let’s head over there. You can tell me about yourself on the way. Perez said you’re a quarterback. Is that right, or was he tryin’ to impress me?”
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t be too impressed. Chilton is a D-Three program. We draw the local crowds and play other private colleges but—”
“I know how college sports work, man. Don’t undersell yourself. You must be a decent athlete. Perez was practically drawin’ hearts and fuckin’ flowers when he was talking about you.”
I snorted in amusement. “Fucking flowers? That sounds nasty.”
Rory stopped in his tracks and grinned. This time his eyes lit from within, transforming the cocky lift of his lips into something almost boyish. The contrast of his playful expression with his gorgeous tats did something to me. My stomach flipped and my palms were slick again. Not good.
“Someone’s got a kinky side,” he singsonged.
I pointed at my chest and shook my head. “Me? No, not me,” I lied.
Rory shot a dubious glance my way, then gestured toward an empty bench tucked under a pepper tree. “Let’s just sit here.”
“I thought you wanted to go to the library.”
“Yeah, but this is quiet enough. We aren’t going to have time to get too in-depth anyway. And you look a little unsure about me. I wanna give you a clear path to the parking lot in case you decide I’m a psycho.”
I started to argue even though I knew he was kidding. I caught myself and asked, “Are you?”
He waggled his brows and grinned mischievously. “Absolutely. But I’m the harmless kind.”
“Aren’t we all?” I replied glibly as I followed him to the bench.
It was set back a foot or so from the walkway, giving the space an illusion of privacy. I sat on the end and dropped my backpack in the middle. Any distance was welcome at this point—my nerves were on edge. I pulled my textbook out and set it on the canvas bag between us.
He picked up the book and idly thumbed through the pages. “Where’re you from?”
“Uh…why?” I asked with a frowning.
Rory rolled his eyes. “We’re getting to know each other, remember? If you’re the psycho, I oughtta know about it.”
I snickered. “You’re safe with me. I’m not too crazy.”
“That’s what they all say,” he snarked. “So…keep talkin’.”
“I live in Orange, about ten minutes from school.”
“Roommates?”
“Two. Max and Sky. They both play baseball.”
“Hey, that’s a coincidence. Those are my dogs’ names!”
“Really?”
“No. I don’t have a dog,” he deadpanned. Then he winked and gave me another show-stopping ear-to-ear grin, adding, “But when I do, I’ll name him Max.”
I lowered my sunglasses and hooked them on the collar of my T-shirt. “You’re weird. And I think you’re the one who’s supposed to be doing the talking and wowing me with your big brain.”
“Yeah, but you won’t remember anything if you’re nervous.”
“What makes you think I’m nervous?” I bluffed.
Rory made a funny face and gestured toward my fidgety hands. “You can’t sit still.”
I unzipped my backpack and gave him a lopsided smile. “I can’t help it. Math makes me jumpy. I can conjugate the hell out of a verb, but numbers make no sense to me. It’s even worse when math tries to disguise itself with words. I have a recurring nightmare of sitting alone in a locked classroom with a page full of word problems. It gets darker and darker in the room, and somehow I know I won’t be released until I can figure out the answers.”