Out in the Offense (Out in College 3)

“Makes you wish for the days you could count your fingers to come up with the answers, I bet. Read it to me. Let’s see if I can help you break it down on the phone.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to bug you.”

“You’re not. I’m standing in front of the sushi section at Whole Foods, wondering if I should choose the spicy tuna or eel. What d’ya think?”

“Spicy tuna,” I replied automatically. I flopped onto my desk chair, kicked my shoes off, and then swiveled to prop my feet on my bed.

“All right. Done. So what’s your problem? Tell me all about it.”

I chuckled at his tone. I just wanted to hear him talk. He sounded like a sexy therapist…if that was possible. The deep timbre of his voice soothed me and kept me grounded in a way I couldn’t explain.

“My math problem or my real-life problems? Never mind. Real life takes too much time.”

“I’m heading for the ice cream section now. I’ve got time.”

“Hmm. Well, one of my teammates pissed me off, my dad is continuing his quest to take over my life and…I just walked in on my roommates having sex on the sofa. Shall we move on to the math problems now?”

“Max and Sky? They’re a couple? They’re gay?”

“Yeah. And they’re all over the map. One day, they’re in love and the next, it’s tension city. But they usually make it to their bedroom before they go at it.” I almost added that I suspected Sky timed their fuck session with my arrival home, but it sounded paranoid and would likely invite more questions than I wanted to answer.

“Rude. That’s what I like about living alone. Buttons would never pull that shit on me,” he huffed. “What should I get? Chocolate Chunk or Cookies and Cream?”

I snickered merrily. “Chocolate Chunk, of course.”

“Of course. Now, what problem are you stuck on? Read it to me and…”

I opened the book and recited the equation with a ridiculous smile on my face. And just like that, I felt like myself again.

3

Rory and I met a half dozen times over the next couple of weeks at the same Starbucks. I wouldn’t claim that my comprehension of statistics got better with each session, but I felt like I was making a mental breakthrough of some kind. I didn’t panic when a lengthy word problem asked for the dreaded median, mean, and mode. I simply took a deep breath, plotted out the best course of action, and got to work. My efforts didn’t always result in a correct answer, but my quiz scores improved from total crap to moderately stinky. I certainly wasn’t out of the woods, but I was beginning to think there was a decent chance I might pass statistics and graduate as planned.

I might not like the subject, but I liked Rory. A lot. I looked forward to our coffee-shop meetings. He always arrived before me and somehow commandeered the same table overlooking the parking lot. We traded off buying each other’s drinks. It wasn’t something we talked about. It just evolved, like a funny tradition you looked forward to without realizing it had become a “thing.” I’d either hand over his latte, no foam, or he’d slide my iced coffee across the table as I flopped into my chair. We’d tap our to-go cups and make small talk about the weather, the traffic, my most recent game, his kids at the Y, or his job search. Once he declared it was time to get to work, there was no goofing around.

Rory’s mission was to help me pass, and he was determined to make it happen. He had a way of assessing my moods and encouraging me to keep going when he could tell I was ready to give up. He exuded a Zen-like aura of patience and serene calm that didn’t quite match his tatted bad-boy exterior. But the second he closed the textbook, he morphed back into the slightly intimidating hunk with rough, prickly edges and a bawdy sense of humor. He fascinated me. And yes, he turned me on. But I couldn’t be sure if it was the naughty twinkle in his eye or his obvious intelligence that got to me. Whatever the reason, I was more than inspired to keep my end of the deal and show up on time, ready, and willing to learn.

Until my eyes crossed and I couldn’t concentrate anymore.

“…divide x into y to find the variable and—hey, did I lose you?” Rory asked, snapping his fingers in front of my nose.

“Letters turning into numbers. My brain can’t take it,” I groused woefully as I slumped in my chair.

Rory closed the textbook, then leaned forward and patted my hand. It wasn’t much contact, but I felt like I’d been zapped by a rogue electric current. I met his gaze and swallowed hard when my heart beat like a drum. I was all for having an excuse to touch him or stare at him, but sometimes his nearness overwhelmed me. Or maybe it was just his hotness. I did my best to tune in when I saw his lips move.