Lynn. That’s a pretty name. Tell me, are you pretty?
Football Player,
Hayes.
I hit send and immediately regret it. I try to put my phone on airplane mode so the message fails, but I panic and drop my phone instead. By the time it’s back in my hands, it’s too late. The message is sent and now I’m the one who’s crossed a line.
I even used one of the words I learned in my English class so she can see I’m not a dumbass—just someone who hates science and is pretty bad at it as evidenced by my failing grade.
I run my hands through my hair. Way to go, Zack!
Throwing up a prayer that she doesn’t find my email offensive and pulls the plug on this whole tutoring thing before it even begins, I put my phone down and get back to work. I unpack box after box while paying close attention to any sound my phone makes. Every time the music is interrupted with an incoming notification, I run straight for it, only to be left disappointed when it’s a notification from everyone other than Lynn.
I hope I didn’t screw this up.
13
EMMA
I spent the night hanging out with the girls, drinking Oreo shakes and hollering every time we saw one of the guys shirtless or dancing. Honestly, it was a lot more fun than I expected.
I would’ve enjoyed it more if I didn’t feel like my phone was calling my name from inside by bag, begging me to take just one quick look.
I didn’t though.
Instead, I drove Zoe and me back home when we were sober enough to leave. When we got there, Zoe went straight to bed and I followed. I purposefully didn’t even bother taking my phone out of my bag. The urge to check my emails so regularly is foreign—wrong. I don’t even know who he is, and yet he’s already throwing me off and I refuse to let a football player do that.
The sad thing is that not opening my bag meant I didn’t get to touch my e-reader either. So instead of reading until sleep called my name, I just went straight to bed. I laid there the whole night tossing and turning, forcing myself not to get up.
Zoe left a little earlier this morning to hang out with Jesse. He doesn’t have much time off, so whenever he has time, they try and spend it together. It’s adorable, really. I guess not all football players are terrible.
Ugh. Now he’s back in my head again. My phone pulls me like a magnet and I finally give in. I hop out of bed, prying open my bag and taking out my e-reader. Returning to bed, I start scrolling through my library, but I can’t find a recently downloaded book that piques my interest and I’m not really in the mood to finish the one I was reading yesterday.
I’m just not in the right headspace.
I need to just check my damn email.
I get up and walk slowly toward my bag, opening it up and pulling out my phone.
The battery is dead, so I plug it into the outlet next to my desk then power up my laptop. Logging into my account, I open up my emails, immediately finding the one that’s been driving me nuts.
The subject line makes my cheeks heat. He likes my name.
I shake away the thoughts of butterflies and happily ever afters and open the email. I smile the whole time I read it, but it leaves my face when I get to the last line. Who asks someone in an email if they’re pretty? If I say yes, I sound cocky. If I say no, I sound insecure. I mean, my mom’s always told me I’m pretty. So does Zoe. I mull it over, rereading the email.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Tutoring Session
10 A.M. on Saturday at the Library. I’ll wait by the tables on the left.
Best,
Lynn.
I send the email before I change my mind. I want to say more. I want to tell him I’ve got plenty of jokes and that he’d have to figure out if I’m pretty for himself. I want to tell him it’s cute he added the word “ad hominem” to his email and ask if he’s doing that to prove a point. But the fact that I want to do all these things is the reason I don’t. It’s unlike me and this guy—this football player—is making me want things I never did before.
ZACK
My shift felt a lot longer than it should have. I blame it on the fact that I spent the entire night switching between working on boxes and checking my phone.
She never replied though.
I got home, settled into bed, and it took me a solid hour to fall asleep despite being exhausted because I couldn’t help but wonder if she found my message inappropriate. I’ve never waited by the phone for someone to call or text, let alone email me back.
She’s my tutor though, so part of my worry is that I did something to piss her off. I sit up, regretting it immediately as I feel a headache starting to build. I curse under my breath when my feet hit the floor, the ache spreading through my body. Hard work. This is what it feels like to bust your ass on and off the field.
On my night stand, my phone is charging, although I ignore the desire to check the notifications. I don’t want to feel the same disappointment I felt last night when I realized she hadn’t emailed me back.
After taking a quick shower, I get ready for practice, still, glancing at my phone every few seconds. Maybe she didn’t email me back yesterday because she was asleep? I emailed her pretty early, so unless she goes to bed before ten, she should’ve seen it.
Dammit!
I hate that I’m questioning everything. I stalk over to my phone and unplug it, navigating straight to the email app. My heart soars when I see she’s responded. It immediately crashes, though, when I read her reply.
Gone is the humor and banter. No more jokes or light conversations. She’s withdrawn from me, entirely ignoring everything I’ve said. She just reminds me of our tutoring session. I don’t know why it bothers me so much. She’s probably determined that a dumb jock isn’t worth her time. At the thought, I find myself becoming frustrated.
She’s your tutor. Nothing more, I remind myself.
Yeah, it was fun talking to someone other than my mom and the guys, but that’s all it was. I don’t know her. She doesn’t know me. We’re not friends. We’re just two people who share a common purpose.
I stuff my phone into my gym bag. I’ve got practice and work today and no time to be thinking about uptight tutors.
14
ZACK
It’s been three days—three days—since the last time I talked to Lynn. Not that I should care…except I do. Today, I get to meet her and for some reason, I’m nervous. Generally speaking, I don’t get nervous. Not about a game. Not about anything, let alone a girl, but I can’t help it right now.
It’s probably because I’m going to meet with someone who I pissed off. I make people mad occasionally, and usually intentionally, but this time I don’t even know what I did wrong.
Well, that’s a lie. I do know why. It’s probably because I asked her if she was pretty. It appears I crossed a tutoring line I didn’t know existed.
I get ready then head downstairs. It’s only 9 AM, so I’ve got some time to kill before making my way over to the library. It’s too bad I couldn’t kill that time by sleeping. I thought exhaustion would’ve had me in bed for days, but it seems I’m too busy overthinking things and rereading emails.
“Hey,” Jesse says from the kitchen table.
“What’s up?” I walk over to the fridge and pull out a gallon of orange juice.
Jesse takes a bite of his bagel. “Nothing much. Getting ready to go out.”
“You hanging out with Zoe?” I ask. That’s all he seems to do with his free time.
He nods. “Yep. We’re doing some last-minute Christmas shopping.” Crap. Presents. I need to get some for Mom and Dad.
I pull out a glass from the cabinets and pour some juice into it. “Are you guys spending Christmas together?”
“Yeah. We’re going to her family’s house on the 24th and then mine on the 25th.” When I turn around, I find Jesse smiling to himself. I shake my head. “What?” he asks.
“You and Colton, man. You guys are whipped.”
“Oh, you mean we’re happy?” he says, smiling more widely.
“I’m happy!” I argue, feeling defensive.
“You could be happier if you found a girl to settle down with.”
No way. “I’m good.”
“You say that, but you really don’t know what you’re missing. When was the last time you were in a relationship?”
“I’ve had girlfriends before.” Girlfriend, really. Just the one.
“When?” he presses.
“Freshmen year.”
“Of college?”
“Of high school,” I give in. Yes, I dated a girl named Amber in high school. She dumped me for the quarterback of the team. Apparently, he had potential to hit it big. He got accepted into ‘Bama and was going to be starting for them. I was just an offensive lineman, and to her, that meant I couldn’t get anywhere. Yes, going to Bragan University meant I too could make it to the NFL, but it was more certain with him… At least she thought it was.
Jersey chaser.
“I think you’re due.”
“No, sir.” Not for the foreseeable future. I’m not even going for the occasional hookup anymore. No strings attached is bullshit. People who want to attach strings always do. I’m not about it.
“Once the right girl comes along, you won’t be able to stop yourself from falling,” Jesse says, sounding like my mom.
I roll my eyes. “I don’t think so.”
“You’ll see.” Jesse finishes his bagel, waves goodbye and heads out the door. I sit in the kitchen, contemplating his words. I pictured Jesse finding a girl and settling down, white picket fence and all. I never thought Colton would fall head over heels for someone, yet here he is. Mia means everything to him.
This being in love thing is making the rounds, and I wonder who its next victim will be. It better stay the hell away from me, though, because I’m immune.
I finish my orange juice, wash the cup and walk out the door. I head toward the library a whole thirty minutes before the tutoring session is supposed to start.
EMMA
Maybe I shouldn’t have been so harsh when I replied to his email. He was joking after all. And, I mean, it wasn’t a terrible email. He just asked if I was pretty.
I have to be honest with myself. It wasn’t the question that turned me away from him. It was how easy communicating with a stranger had become.
I can’t lower my defenses—especially not with a football player.
I’ve been waiting for a message from him for the last three days. I wasn’t expecting an essay, but at least a confirmation that he got my email, or that we’re still meeting today. Maybe he could’ve thrown in that he doesn’t think I’m a jerk. Maybe he’s not coming today after all. I wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t.
I look down at the time on my phone.
9:15 AM.
Even if he were to show up, he wouldn’t be here before ten. He’s probably still in bed. I wish I was in bed, but my nerves got the better of me and I woke up way earlier than I wanted. I tried to go back to sleep, but I couldn’t; my thoughts were too loud. I thought it might be better if I got some reading done.
At the library.
An hour before my tutoring session.
Except I haven’t gotten any reading done. I’ve reread the same line in this romance novel fifty times while switching my focus between my phone and the entrance to the library.
Not that I’d know him if I saw him because I don’t know what the guy looks like.
Grabbing my book bag, I pull out my laptop, notebook and a pen, then put my e-reader away.
Time trickles by slowly as I wait. No one’s even walking through the doors because most of the student body is enjoying their break with family and friends. The only reason the library is even open is that some students take classes during the break and because athletes need it to “study.” I’m skeptical about how much studying they actually get done.
I start scrolling through Facebook to kill some time.
“Hmm hmm.” Someone clears their throat and I feel butterflies rise in my stomach. I look up slowly, taking in a wide chest, a red beard, and finally, amusement-filled eyes.
Holy shit! Zack?
I almost choke.
“You must be my tutor,” he says with a devious smile.
“Zack?” His name leaves my mouth in barely a whisper. My eyes scan his own for confirmation.
You looked beautiful dancing like no one was watching.
His earlier words come to mind and I feel my cheeks grow warm.
“It’s nice hearing you call me by my name instead of Hayes.” He pulls out the chair in front of him and sits down, dropping his bag on top of the table.
“You need tutoring?” I’m lucky I’m sitting down; otherwise, I may have fallen on my ass at the realization of who I’ve been going back and forth with via email.
He nods. “You’re surprised?”
Am I? He’s a football player. I’m shocked that out of all the football players, he’s the one I was assigned to tutor. Does he even remember the words he said to me in the car when he was drunk?
“A little.”
“I’m surprised too. I didn’t think your name was Lynn,” he tells me. My heart starts beating faster. If he remembers my name then maybe he does recall his words to me that night at the party.
“It’s my middle name.”
“So your first name is…”
“Seriously?” I ask, feeling relieved that he doesn’t know it. “Emma.”
“Emma Lynn. That’s pretty,” he says and I think back to the last email I received from him. “You’re Zoe’s friend, right?”
I’m surprised at how little he seems to know about me. Then again, I don’t know much about him, and it’s not like he and I have talked before.
Except that one night.
It wasn’t a conversation, though—just him speaking and me listening.
Blushing.
And dying of embarrassment.
I nod. “Friend and roommate.”
“Well, it’s nice to officially meet you.” So, he really doesn’t remember that night—the night he made my heart beat faster than it had in years. How appropriate that the first guy to tell me I’m beautiful doesn’t remember his own words.
“Same.”
15
ZACK
I can immediately tell she’s my tutor. She looks like one, or at least a librarian. Her blonde hair is up in a ponytail, her glasses resting on the bridge of her nose as she rocks a burgundy cardigan.
I remember the first time I saw her. She was on the quad with Zoe when Nick, Jesse, and I ran in to them. I’d called dibs on the red-head, not bothering to take a second look at the girl with the glasses.
I’d never thought these two girls would become permanent fixtures in our lives, but Zoe and Jesse are an item now and I’ve seen Emma a couple of times before at the House. I’ve never talked to her, though; I had no reason to.
It’s weird to have talked to someone a few times via email, only to realize it’s someone you already knew. She wasn’t a stranger after all, although with the little I know about her, she may as well be.
She clears her throat. “Did you hear me?”
I blink, realizing I’ve tuned out of the conversation. I wrack my brain to see if some small part of me had listened, but I come up with nothing.
“I didn’t, sorry. I was thinking about the email I sent you.”
At my words, her cheeks redden even more. She readjusts her glasses and then looks directly at her computer, which stands in front of her like a shield. I realize I’m making her nervous. I’m also enjoying this more than I should.
“Right, well Christmas is coming and we have four weeks to get you ready for this exam,” she continues. “Coach wants us to meet twice a week—”
“Why didn’t you reply to my email?” I ask, interrupting her as she tries to figure out the logistics of this t
hing.
“I did reply.” She drums her fingers on the table. “We could meet once a week if that works better for you…”
She’s trying to steer the conversation back to a place in which she’s comfortable, but because I’m a jerk and I like pressing buttons, I interrupt her again. “I asked you if were pretty. You never answered. How come?”
“I replied to the email.”
“I also asked if you had a thing against football players, but your roommate is dating one—and he’s a pretty good one if I do say so myself.” I don’t miss the irritation on her face. Her cheeks have gotten even redder and she’s fixing her glasses, which don’t need fixing in the first place.
“We should…” she trails off.
“Do you have something against football players?”
She thinks about her answer before saying, “N-no.”
“Really? Because I recall you saying you especially don’t give your number out to football players.” I rest my chin on my hand as I zero in on her Caribbean blue eyes.
“Can we get back on topic? We’re here to figure out how you can pass biology.”
“You could’ve said if you were pretty,” I say, enjoying the effect I’m having on her. She probably wishes she were anywhere else but here. I really should stop making her feel uncomfortable, but I lost precious hours of sleep last night and the days preceding.
“So, do Saturdays typically work for you?” she asks and I laugh at her attempt to still stay on topic.
“Did you realize you were talking to me?”
She shakes her head. “How could I’ve known?”
Bragan Boys (Bragan University Boxset) Page 45
