“It’ll definitely help your cause. You know what intrigues guys even more than the chase?”
“I can’t wait to hear it.”
“A woman who’s out of reach. People want what they can’t have.” I can’t help but smirk. “Case in point—you wanting Kohl.”
“Uh-huh. Well, if I can’t have him, then why bother going on a date with you?”
“You can’t have him now. Doesn’t mean you’ll never have him.”
I reach another stop sign, and I’m annoyed to see that we’re almost back at campus. Shit. I need more time to persuade her, so I drive a bit slower and hope she doesn’t notice I’m going ten under the limit.
“Trust me, Wellsy, if you show up on my arm, he’ll notice.” I pause, pretending to think it over. “Tell you what—there’s this party next Saturday and Loverboy will be there.”
“One, don’t call him that. And two, how do you know where he’ll be?” she says suspiciously.
“Because it’s Beau Maxwell’s birthday bash. You know, the quarterback? The whole team will be there.” I shrug. “And so will we.”
“Mmm-hmmm. And what happens when we get there?”
She’s playing it off as casual, but I know I’ve got her exactly where I want her.
“We mingle, have a few beers. I’ll introduce you around as my date. Chicks will want to murder you. Guys will wonder who you are and why you haven’t been on their radars before. Kohl will wonder too, but we’re going to ignore him.”
“And why would we do that?”
“Because it’ll drive him crazy. Make you seem even more unattainable.”
She bites her lip. I wonder if she knows how easy it is to read her emotions. Annoyance, anger, embarrassment. Her eyes reveal everything and it fascinates me. I work so hard to mask what I’m feeling—a lesson I learned from childhood—but Hannah’s face is an open book. It’s kinda refreshing.
“You have a lot of confidence in yourself,” she finally remarks. “Do you honestly think you’re such hot shit that the mere act of going to a party with you will turn me into a celebrity?”
“Yes.” I’m not being arrogant, just truthful. After two years at this school, I know the kind of cred I have.
Though honestly? Sometimes I don’t feel half as cool as people think I am, and I’m pretty sure that if any of them took the time to actually get to know me, they’d probably change their opinion. It’s like that pond I skated on when I was a kid—from a distance, the ice looked so shiny and smooth, until you got close enough to it, and suddenly all the uneven edges and crisscrossed skate marks became visible. That’s me, I guess. Covered with skate marks that nobody ever seems to notice.
And jeez, clearly I’m feeling way too philosophical tonight.
Next to me, Hannah has gone quiet, chewing on her lip as she considers my proposal.
For a split second, I almost tell her to forget it. It seems…wrong that this girl cares what a douche like Kohl thinks about her. Hannah’s intelligence and razor-sharp tongue is wasted on a guy like that.
But then I think of my team, and all the guys that are counting on me, and I force myself to ignore my misgivings.
“Think about it,” I coax. “The makeup is next Friday, which gives us a week and a half to study. I’ll write the exam, and then on Saturday night we’ll go to Maxwell’s party and show Loverboy how sexy and desirable you are. He won’t be able to resist, trust me.”
“One, don’t call him that. Two, stop telling me to trust you. I don’t even know you.” But despite the grumbling, I can see her capitulating. “Look. I can’t commit to tutoring you for the whole semester. I honestly don’t have time.”
“It’ll just be this week,” I promise.
She hesitates.
I don’t blame her for doubting me. Truth is, I’m already thinking of how I can convince her to hold my hand for the duration of Tolbert’s course, but…one battle at a time.
“So do we have a deal?” I prompt.
Hannah stays quiet, but just when I’ve given up hope, she sighs and says, “All right. We’ve got a deal.”
Hot damn.
A part of me is genuinely shocked that I managed to wear her down. I’ve been badgering her for what feels like an eternity, and now that I’ve won, it’s almost like experiencing a sense of loss. Figure that out.
Nevertheless, I give myself a mental high five as I drive into the lot behind the dormitories. “What dorm are you in?” I ask as I put the Jeep in park.
“Bristol House.”
“I’ll walk you in.” I start to unbuckle my seatbelt, but she shakes her head.
“It’s fine. I don’t need a bodyguard.” She holds up her phone. “All prepped to dial 911, remember?”
A short silence falls over us.
“Well.” I stick out my hand. “It was a pleasure doing business with you.”
She stares at my hand like I’m a carrier for Ebola. I roll my eyes and withdraw the gesture.
“I work until eight tomorrow,” she says. “We can meet up when I’m done. You don’t live in the dorms, right?”
“No, but I can come to you.”
She blanches as if I’ve offered to shave her head. “And have people think we’re friends? No way. Text me your address. I’ll come to your place.”