Next Man Up (Making the Score #2) - Tawdra Kandle Page 0,44

if I was going to allow him to ruin this class for me. I’d sit on the other side of the room and pretend he didn’t exist. God knew I’d gotten good at that. If I didn’t meet his eyes and if I simply ignored him, I could get through this. And then after a while, it wouldn’t even bother me that he was in the room. He’d be part of the setting, like a chair or a table.

But before I could put this plan into action, Eli turned his head, as if he’d felt the weight of my eyes on his back. His expression brightened, and he smiled, almost as though he was glad to see me.

“Zelda.” His deep voice reverberated within me, and to my irritation, I felt my knees go a bit weak. Damn him. He wasn’t supposed to make me feel this way. I needed to get the hell over this. Over him.

“Hey.” I forced my feet to move forward. My lips curved into what I hoped was a decent approximation of a cool smile, making me seem remote and uninterested.

Apparently, I failed, or Eli was just not picking up on my leave-me-be vibes, because he pointed to the empty seat next to his desk.

“Want to join me? Or are you not a first-row kind of student?” One of his eyebrows cocked upwards. “I never used to be, until the choice was taken away from me.” He patted the arm of his wheelchair. “All the accessible desks are in the front. I guess they must stereotype people in wheelchairs and assume we’re not interested in sitting in the back, where we could get into trouble.” He winked at me.

I hesitated. If I refused to sit next to Eli, it would not only make me look petty and churlish, it might seem as though I was afraid—either of him or how he made me feel. It wasn’t like there was anyone else I knew in the room. I couldn’t beg off in favor of sitting with a friend.

I remembered, too, what Eli had told me last spring—how girls seemed to shy away from him now that he was . . . what was the politically correct word? Disabled? Handicapped? Wheelchair bound? Whatever it might be, despite our history, I couldn’t bear the idea of him sitting up here alone.

With a small sigh, I looped the strap of my purse over the back of the chair next to him and skirted the front of the desk to sit down.

“I have no issues with sitting in the front row.” I answered his question finally, stretching my legs out under the desk. “In some of the bigger classes, I actually prefer it. Fewer distractions and more attention from the professor. But in one this size . . .” I shifted and glanced around the room. There were probably ten or twelve other students in here. “That shouldn’t be much of a problem.”

His eyes twinkled at me, and I realized with a start that there was something different about him. The tightness of his jaw had given way to a more relaxed expression, and the lines around his eyes had vanished. The air of stay the hell away seemed to have disappeared, too. I wondered what had changed. Had he met someone? Was he dating a girl? Quinn and Gia hadn’t mentioned anything this morning when they told me about their visit with the boys, as they referred to Nate and Eli, but then again, I hadn’t asked, either.

“You’re an enigma, Zelda Porter.” He regarded me steadily, curiosity evident. “You come across like a girl who’s always down for a good time, a party girl, but Quinn says you’re a genius. And what you just said sounded like someone who takes her classes very seriously.”

“Of course, I do,” I returned swiftly. “Only an idiot would treat college like a party. I’m here to learn. To get my degree and graduate with honors so I can have my pick of jobs afterward. Otherwise, what’s the point?” I lifted one shoulder. “The fact that I don’t blow off classes doesn’t mean that I can’t have a good time once my work’s done. What they say about all work and no play is true, you know. I just happen to be really good at finding . . .” I paused. “Balance. I know when to say enough with the fun, and I know when I’m burying myself in work. I try never to let