Blind Spot - Katana Collins Page 0,24

“You’re really something, you know that? How’d you get here?”

He buckled up, leaning the passenger seat back. “A friend gave me a ride.”

“Oh.” A friend. Perhaps the same friend who was hanging all over him before class? I pushed the jealousy to the side. How fucked up was I? I didn’t even want this guy, and here I was bothered that he got a ride with a “friend.”

“So, how do you like Ceele?”

I swallowed, veering right out of the parking lot. “I think he’s…very understanding.”

Out of the corner of my eye, Tate’s fingers brushed across his lips like he was deep in thought, studying me. “How’d you do on the test?”

I shrugged, trying to remain as cool and casual as he was. “Okay,” I managed to croak. Then I added, pretending I hadn’t snuck a peek at his test, “You?”

“Okay,” he repeated, and I had to stop the snort before it exploded out my nose.

“‘Okay,’ my ass. You and I both know you got a perfect score.”

His lips relaxed and he barely registered emotion as I called him out on the lie. “So, if we’re being honest now…how’d you really do?”

I sighed, rolling to a stop at the red light. “Not well.” My cheeks flamed and mortification seeped into my chest. “I knew I wasn’t gonna do well, but I didn’t think I’d do quite as bad as I did.” I cleared my throat, taking off as the light turned back to green. “Actually, I’ve been thinking…”

“Dangerous, Betty,” he said. “You do that too much.”

“As I was saying…I’ve been thinking. I’m willing to sign off more hours for you at the center.” His brows arched, but he said nothing, so I continued. “If you help me pass French this semester. I just…I don’t know, it doesn’t come naturally. I freak out when it’s test time. I can usually speak it all right, but when other people speak in French, it’s like gibberish. I can’t understand a damn word of it, and I’ve been at this for years now.”

“So…” He steepled his fingers below his clean-shaven chin. “You’re saying that if I tutor you, you’ll cut down my hours at the center?” He pressed his lips together, wetting them before they stretched into a grin.

“Well…” I gulped, and granted, I’d only been mulling this over for a couple of minutes, but I didn’t make it this far in life by playing by the rules. Sometimes, you had to get scrappy. “I–I’m pretty sure it’s illegal. But I’m hoping if we get caught, we can both plead ignorance. I’m only going to sign off on the exact amount of extra time you spend tutoring me. So, technically…technically”—I put a finger in the air to drive the point home—“you’re still doing the actual work. It’s just not for an accredited organization. And the more often we can do the work there at the center, the better.”

He said nothing more, simply lounged back in my passenger seat, examining me as I drove. He ran a hand over the camel-colored interior leather. “She’s a beauty.”

The stress that tightened my shoulders cranked up a notch. Would this guy ever give me a straight answer? “Yes, she is.”

“It suits you. This car.”

“Thanks. But you clearly don’t know her insides very well. They designed her entirely for looks. She stalls constantly and ends up at the shop almost weekly.”

“So, she looks really capable, but in actuality she needs a little help now and then? Nothing wrong with that,” he said quietly.

I tried to swallow beyond the knot in my throat, but it felt oddly suffocating. “Yeah, well, some of us aren’t as easily fixed.” The scar at my temple flared with pain, and I knew it was just in my head. I was no fucking Harry Potter, for God’s sake.

“You mean cars? Some cars just aren’t fixable.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.” I fish-hooked into our building’s lot, turning the car off. Thank God we made it all the way home. I didn’t have enough of a balance left on my credit card to afford a tow truck this week.

“So?” I unbuckled, curling my leg under me as I turned to face him. “What do you say?”

“Shelby…”

I groaned. I knew that tone. That was a “thanks but no thanks.” I put a hand in the air, waving him away. “It’s fine. Really. I’ll just see if Harrison can—”

“Your place or mine?”

I froze, halfway out of the car. “What?”

His dimples appeared along with a soft smile. “Your place…or mine?” he