The Player Next Door

Is that what he’s been trying to do? Impress me? “Maybe you need to try harder,” I answer, matching his light tone.

He grins. “I think I need more guidance. Some one-on-one tutoring, if you’re available?”

What is going on here? The dynamic between us seems to have shifted again, back to flirtatious. This is not keeping it uncomplicated.

“How was your date?” I ask evenly. Has he forgotten already?

He bows his head, his lips pressed in a tight smile that makes my stomach clench. I regret asking. “You really want to know?”

I shrug nonchalantly, though my voice is strained when I say, “Probably not.”

He peers up at me, lingering for a moment as if assessing how he should answer. “Shitty, actually.”

I snort. “Right. A four-hour date because it was shitty.” And now you’ve made it clear you were watching the clock for him. My cheeks flame. This conversation needs to end immediately. “I should finish getting ready for this orientation …” My voice trails as Shane moves swiftly for my classroom door, pushing it closed. He makes his way back to my desk and perches on the corner closest to me.

He simply stares at me. He’s waiting for me to ask.

It takes me a few breaths to calm myself before I play along. “And why was it a shitty date, Shane?” I ask with an exaggerated curious tone, though I find myself holding my breath for his answer.

“Because I didn’t want to be there. I guess I shouldn’t say it was shitty. That’s not fair to her. It was boring. I was bored.”

Dean called that one. It didn’t take nearly as long as I’d expected. A strange thrill stirs inside me. “What happened? She didn’t want to put out for Mr. July?”

He laughs, his gaze searching the ceiling tiles, giving me a chance to admire the sharp jut of his throat. “No, she was more than willing. I’m the one who wasn’t interested. I knew I never should have said yes.” He shakes his head, more to himself. “I regretted it the second I sat down.”

“Oh. Well, that’s …” My voice trails. I don’t know what to say.

“I didn’t kiss her at the end of the night.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“I know, but I’m telling you anyway.”

A rash of nervous flutters churns in my belly. “Why didn’t you?”

He studies me. “Because I told her I was hung up on another woman, and I need to give that time to see where it could lead.”

“Oh,” I manage, swallowing hard. I’m assuming he means me, and he’s being far more candid and straightforward than he’s been up until now.

“Yeah.” His eyes land on my mouth where they remain for several beats before lifting again. “Even if it means sitting in my house, jerking off while I wait for her to trust me. I didn’t mention that last part to Susie, though,” he says with a crooked smile.

Blood pounds in my ears. Why is Shane telling me this now? Here, twenty-five minutes before my presentation begins? Part of me wants to rope my hands around his thick neck and choke him.

But a bigger part wants to kiss him.

I clear my throat before I trust my voice won’t shake. “I should go and open the door. Parents will be arriving soon. They’ll want to talk.” I stumble over my words as I take a step back from him. I can’t do this—whatever this is—with Shane right now.

“Well … I’m a parent,” he says, folding his arms over his chest again. God, he looks good tonight. “Maybe I want to talk.”

I let out a nervous laugh as heat creeps up my neck. “Something tells me you’re not here to talk about what Cody’s going to learn in school.”

“That’s not true!” he exclaims in a mock-appalled voice.

I decide to humor him. “Okay, fine. What would you like to talk about, Mr. Beckett?”

He frowns at the board. “I’m very concerned about the sex education curriculum for my impressionable son.”

“Uh-huh.” I smother my smile. “And what exactly are you concerned about?”

“You know … I just …” He bites his bottom lip as he no doubt searches for bullshit to throw at me. The simple move is so sexy. “I remember when Ms. Dixon used those extra-large bananas to demonstrate how to roll on a condom. Do you remember that?”

I laugh. “She tore three of them before she managed to get one on properly.” Dipshit offered to put it on for her. As if his scrawny ass had ever so much as touched a condom back then.

“Those bananas gave a lot of guys in the class a complex for years. You know, about their size.”

I drop my voice, wary of it carrying through the closed door. “Really? Because you didn’t act like you were struggling with confidence in high school.”

The corner of his mouth twitches, but he manages to keep a straight face otherwise. “Just saying, you don’t want to be crushing these little men’s spirits. They have enough to deal with. You know, with the pressures of social media and all that.”