The Jock by J.L. Beck Page 0,17
from her throat while the guy sitting next to her simply stares at me wide-eyed. He looks familiar too. I’ve seen him at parties before, Frank or Frankie, I think.
“I’m on time,” I announce. “You, out. It’s my turn.”
I motion for the guy to get up, and he does almost immediately. I’m not surprised. He’s at least a head shorter than me, and I’ve got about forty pounds of muscle on him. He’s not an athlete, I know that much, and we don’t run in the same circles, but he’s somewhat popular and definitely not a nerd. I watch him as he gets up and walks past me without a word, even though he looks as if he wants to say something.
When I turn my attention back to Blair, she is still standing with her hands clutched to her chest.
“You didn’t have to be so rude,” she finally says.
“Says the girl who dumped a drink on my head,” I quip and flop down on a chair.
“Great, you’re in a chipper mood today.” She takes the seat next to me, looking uncomfortable as hell.
I sigh. “I’m sorry, okay. I’m in a bad mood, and I shouldn’t take it out on you.”
“It’s okay.” She nods, pushing her glasses up her nose like she always does. “Did you bring your books this time?”
“I did.” I pull out all my schoolwork from my backpack and put it on the table between us. “You didn’t answer my texts last night. Did you not like my jokes?” I would never admit it, but I was a bit scorned by the fact that she never replied.
“They weren’t that funny.” She shrugs.
“Well, you have no sense of humor then. Because those jokes were hilarious.”
“You have my number for tutoring questions, not to be friends. Can we just go back to the way it was before, where we were simply ignoring each other?”
“Why can’t we be friends?”
“I just don’t want to be your friend, and let’s face it, you don’t want to be just friends anyway.”
“Ouch.” I’m just going to forget she said that.
“Let’s take a look at what you are working on.” She looks down at the books with a twinkle in her eyes, like a kid walking up to the tree on Christmas morning. Does she actually like to do this kind of shit?
She opens one of the books, and a smile tucks on her lips, then she sucks in an audible breath as if she is enjoying the smell of the pages.
I’m floored, I always thought nerds just do this stuff because they are good at it, or because they care so much about their grades that they are willing to sacrifice their social life. I never thought that they could actually enjoy studying—enjoy math! Or the smell of fucking books.
Seeing Blair’s mood lighten simply by opening a math book has me dumbfounded.
“You really like math, huh?”
“Yeah, I do.” She grins while flipping through the pages and reading my notes. “I like it because I know what to expect. It’s always the same.”
I don’t miss the fact that this is the first time she has elaborated on an answer. It might not seem like a lot, but it’s a start.
As I watch her read over my stuff, I analyze her words further. She likes math because it’s unchanging, and she knows what to expect? Does that mean she doesn’t like change or the unknown? If so, why? An irrational fear, or did something happen to her?
“I don’t like math because it doesn’t make sense to me. Especially this type.” I point a finger at the book.
“Is that why you are in such a foul mood today?”
“Not really. My whole body aches from today’s practice, and this weekend we have a game. There is just a lot of pressure to win against Blackthorn and to get my grades up.”
“You’re going to Blackthorn? This weekend?” She perks up, and I can’t help but wonder why.
“Yeah. What’s at Blackthorn that has you more excited than math?” She better not say a boyfriend. Fuck, that would derail my plans. Even if I have screwed a chick that was taken a time or two, I won’t do it just because I can. I have morals, not a lot, but some.
“Nothing.” She lowers her head frowning.
“You’re a shit liar. Tell me,” I press, determined to get it out of her.
Finally, she says, “I have a friend who goes to school there.”
“A friend?”
“Mmhhh.” She flips another page over. “What chapter are you on?