Dirty Curve

“Does every college athlete suck at school, or what?” She drops back on the couch bed I never had a chance to fold up this morning, and I follow.

“Not even close.”

“So why do they so desperately call on you, dear friend?”

“Because I have something they all want and can’t get enough of ...” I play along, and Bianca and I look to each other.

She wags her brows while I tap at my temple.

“Ugh, of course!” She teasingly groans, nudging my leg with hers. “A genius swimming in a pool of powdered protein.”

“Blended, not stirred,” I add with a low laugh, shrugging against the cushion. “Honestly, I never have too much of a problem with my students. Some do struggle pretty bad, so I help them find ways to connect. Then there’re the ones who use me for a second eye on papers and things. It’s always a mix, but for every bag of apples I’m thrown, there’s always one with a rotten core.”

“I met Tobias a couple times when I was with Cooper.” She fake vomits at the mention of her ex. “It wasn’t enough to have an opinion outside of the boy is fine, but are we thinking Avix U’s Playboy Pitcher is rotten at his core?”

A choppy sigh escapes, and I push myself to my feet, shoving my laptop into my bag. As I zip it up, my phone vibrates from its place on the charger.

I don’t have to look at the screen to know who the message is from, but I do so as I pick it up.

Student T. Cruz: I’m here, Tutor Girl. Prompt enough for you?

I stare at the name I’ve programmed him under, trying to keep my frown hidden as I look at Bianca. “I have no idea what to think.”

“Well.” Bianca laughs. “I guess you’re fated to find out.”

Am I?

q

Tobias

My head snaps up when a bulky ass bag is slowly set onto the tabletop.

I follow the pasty hand that hesitates to let the thing go to find a pale-skinned brunette with bed head and that oversized sweater I remembered sliding into the seat across from me.

Ever the patient guy, I wait for her to say hi, make eye contact or acknowledge my presence in some way, but she doesn’t. Instead, she pours her attention into pulling out a bunch of shit—pens, papers, notepad, fuckin’ highlighters. Let’s not forget the busted-ass laptop.

I focus on her face again, and while she has yet to bring her eyes to mine, the girl’s fully aware mine are locked onto hers. A tinge of color brightens her fair cheeks.

Grinning, I sink a little farther in my chair.

Chick’s nervous, and rightfully so.

It’s like Echo was getting at, I’m kind of intimidating—dark hair with eyes that rival the Pacific Ocean, as the Avix Inquirer likes to put it. I’ve got what my ma says would be a million-dollar smile if it weren’t so crooked. Little does she know that works in my favor.

I may not be Hulk huge, but I am cut like the captain, lean and fit with little to no body fat to speak of.

I dress clean and drive a nice ride, thanks to Coach.

I’m a fucking catch.

Not that I want to be caught—no, fuck no—but I understand the attraction women have toward me, and I do my best to give them the attention they wish for, even if it’s not the kind they’re hoping for. Sometimes, though, a smile goes a long way.

“Okay, so I’m not as prepared as I should be. I don’t have your assignment list on hand, so if your professor hasn’t had a chance to input recent work, I’ll need you to tell me what it is we need to work on today.” She opens her laptop and begins typing. “I’m a little tight on time tonight, so we have to stop right at the two-hour mark.”

She wants to cut to the chase.

I get it, get in, get out, right?

But the girl still hasn’t looked up and now I’m getting pissed.

“Tutor Girl ...” I drag out, cocking my head to the side. “Look at me.”

Her shoulders stiffen and she gives herself an extra second by running her tongue across her rust-colored lips before sitting back in the chair. She tucks her chin in and a little to the right, slowly lifting her eyes to mine.

It’s as if she’s afraid to meet my gaze head-on, but now that she’s forced herself to make the move, she doesn’t cower or quickly flick them away.

She stares, pretty sure without breathing, and I stare right back.

Girls got a soft-looking face, like she uses lotion or something on it, and her eyes, they’re a strange brown, like a rainy day, postponed game, mud brown.

A rusty red-brown, kind of like her lips.

She could use a couple days of sleep with the dark circles under her eyes and maybe a burger or some sun. Her body’s hidden, so I can’t tell if she’s bones under all that mess or if she has curve appeal.