Dirty Curve

So, yeah. I’m feeling good ... that is until I’ve reached the top step of the stairs leading to the library, and no messy-looking bun is in sight.

Stuffing the last bite of my breakfast burrito into my mouth, I look at my watch, and a frown builds along my forehead.

Okay, to be fair, it’s seven fifteen as of this second. Technically, I’m exactly on time when I should have been earlier, but my body felt good this morning, so I went for those two extra miles.

Either way, I’m not late, but where the hell is she?

I have class in forty-five minutes, and sure, the science building is a short stretch from here, but I don’t do late, and neither should she, especially when she’s on the job.

Now I’ll have to rush there, having no time to stop and chat with friends along the way, or give the ball babes the attention they pay Dr. Double-D-Maker good money for.

That’s just inconsiderate.

I look at the time again.

No way would she be more than a minute or two late, right? Maybe she’s here somewhere and I didn’t spot her at first glance?

I try rewinding my brain, to remember what she looks like, come up with nothing past the bun but a faded gray sweatshirt. The kind your grandma buys you from Kmart for Christmas every year, baggy and boring and itchy on the inside after one wash.

To my left are several girls, each hunkered over some papers and shit, but they don’t seem to be waiting for anyone, and to my left there’s … well, we’ll go with a group lost on their way to a rodeo, or members of the Future Farmers of America. Pretty sure there’s dry horse shit on at least a handful of their big-ass boots.

Is that snakeskin?

With a huff, I look around again.

Where is this chick?

I walk into the library, and right up to a desk that looks like it’s for people who know shit in here—as a team, we have our own study hall area, so this is foreign territory for me.

I flash a big, bright grin at the little thing sitting behind it. “I’m hoping you can help me out.”

The girl’s cheeks turn cherry red and my lips curve higher.

The teeth always get ‘em.

“I need to find a girl.”

She nods, her eyes wide.

They’re actually kind of scary, the I’ll stab you in your sleep, then hold you all night as you bleed out, scary. Maybe hide under your bed like some urban legends shit.

“She’s a tutor.”

“Okay. Sure.” She clears her throat and pulls out a little clipboard with a bunch of names signed on it. “What’s her name?”

“Don’t know.” I shrug.

“Right.” She blows out a breath and her bangs fly in the air. “Well, it looks like we only have four girls in this morning, so it shouldn’t be too hard to figure it out. What does she look like?”

When I don’t respond, her serial killer eyes lock back on mine. “You don’t know her name or what she looks like?”

“I’ve only ever had a view of the top of her head.” I lean my forearms on the counter with a smile, knowing she’s reading into my statement the dirtiest way possible. “Her head’s about to my chin, brown or blonde hair, maybe.” I shrug. “I’m not so hot with random details.”

She nods slowly, her lips pinching slightly.

I know that face, she’s getting a sour taste in her mouth. This always happens when I don’t drop a line and offer the chance for them to sink their teeth into the bait.

She’s about to pawn me off now, uninterested in helping me out since I’m uninterested in helping her out of her clothes.

The girl’s face scrunches, and she drops against the seat. “Go to the tutoring center next to the child development building. They should be able to tell you who was assigned to you, but make sure you take your student ID.”

A low laugh slips from me, and I tap the counter as I slide away. “Cute, that’s cute, girl, but thanks.”

Spinning around, I grin and head straight where she directed.

The tutoring center is two buildings over, so I shouldn’t lose much more time, but I am down to twenty minutes until my first class of the day, which stresses me the fuck out.

I need to get my assignments from this chick and get my ass in gear.

More forceful than intended, I yank the door open, causing it to slam closed at my back, making the dude behind the counter’s head jerk up.

“Hi. I need the name of my tutor.”

He does a double take, knocking over a stack of papers he must have just pulled from the printer.

Yeah, even dudes dig me.

I grin. “My tutor. Who is she? Where is she? She was supposed to meet me a half hour ago at the library.”