by Faye, Amy
He shrugs and starts walking a few steps behind her. If she wants to be in charge, at least for now, he'll let that happen. After all, he's not going to let a good tutor go to waste.
And he doesn't want to test that right hook, either. It looked like it hurt, and he doesn't want to find out if he's right.
Chapter Thirteen
The week went well. The test wasn't any harder than Emma figured it would be. In fact, it was easier. Always was. She always had to recognize after that she expected something that was on the level of a midterm or final exam, every week.
That just wasn't going to be the case. It was going to be a little quiz to make sure that she was staying up-to-date on the material.
Well, she had been. But tutoring people—and she'd only gotten more calls in the days after the usual Friday test, people who thought that last week there wasn't enough time—had only sharpened that preparation into a razor of war-of-1812 knowledge.
It made the class a cakewalk. She thought she was bored before, but now even the material that should have been new to her seemed old-hat. Even the price raise didn't really have the effect it should have.
The one thing that she would have changed, if she could, was the dinner with Craig Weston.
Every eye in the whole place seemed to be on her, and not one of them was looking at her positively. What she'd hoped was going to be something quiet and meaningless had turned into a big rumor.
Big enough that nobody had brought it to her yet to ask what the hell the story was. Which meant one of three things.
First, all the sisters thought that they already knew the answer. Very possible, but unlikely. Extremely unlikely.
Second, that they thought they knew exactly what was going on. But if there was no mystery, and nothing to discuss, then why did they keep going quiet when she walked into the room?
Third, they thought there was more to it than Emma was willing to admit. And there, they might have had her. Because she sure wasn't willing to admit there was anything there at all.
Just him paying for her food, and she eating it. In silence. Then she thanked him, and they went their separate ways. Easy. Painless. Not even very interesting. Not worth gossiping about.
Nothing in a sorority, though, is ever 'not worth' gossiping about. If the gossip stopped, at least three separate girls would pass out after a week, as if they hadn't been eating.
Still, it was strange to be at the center of attention. And for more than one reason, because after a second week—and a second silent supper, paid for by the Golden Boy—she was ready to put out the notes for the rest of her class schedule.
They were picked up about the same as the others had been. Another three courses'-worth of students coming to her for help.
Other people might have felt pressure. Emma felt something, bearing down on her shoulders. She couldn't have identified it as feeling pressured, though. She didn't feel any pressure at all.
What even was pressure? She'd never been entirely sure. People expected things, and she provided them. There was some vague worry that she might not manage, but she always had in the end.
When she was close to her limit, she'd turn them down.
There was one hard and fast limit, though, and that was four o'clock.
Oh, it had gotten ugly, too. She kept the entire hour free now, after one girl had gotten wise and decided to take a good solid swing that left a shiner that the next girl that Emma helped noticed immediately.
Now she took the time to use concealer after things got rough, making sure that Craig Weston kept his nose clean. And the rest of him clean, as well.
Which was the problem, in a nutshell. There was a lot wrong with the whole situation. Things that Emma was more than ready to admit felt strange.
But the strangest part of all, the thing that kept driving her in weird directions, was that for all the other girls got real frustrated with her, he never reacted much. She'd come up, maybe ruin his chances or maybe catch him before he'd managed to dig his claws in to some girl.
And he'd keep moving, like nothing had happened. After the first couple days, he'd just act like she was a permanent fixture in his day. All while Emma kept accumulating more bumps and bruises and slaps that chattered her teeth.
Deep breath. Four o'clock today, and then just one more appointment at five. She wasn't going to be surprised this time when Craig sat down across from her. Third week in a row, she should be able to manage figuring out who her regulars were at some point.
Maybe she could skip the concealer, even, if it was just him. After all, he'd see her pick up the wound. There wouldn't be any need to explain what had happened.
He kept his head down. It didn't seem like him. She'd never seen him keep his head down outside of this little walk. Craig Weston was like a Greek statue given life.
He didn't have to look down at the ground, and he had better posture than that. If he was keeping his eyes down, it was because he was choosing to keep his eyes down.
It was a strange ritual. Something about it tickled the edge of Emma's mind. Some deeper meaning that she couldn't begin to decipher. Frankly, a meaning that she didn't care enough to decipher.
All she knew was, he was doing what she wanted, for now, which was to keep his hands to himself. Today was a good day. An easy day. Nobody circled, not yet. When they saw her, they stopped eyeing their prey.
She didn't move up, and for another long minute, as he made his way across the lawn with his hood up and his hands jammed into the pocket of his tight-fitting jeans, the girls started to think about it again.
He jagged over, though, a minute later. Moved right over to her. He didn't lift his head up until he was about there. He rolled an ear bud out of one ear. Emma could hear the soft tinny noise of what might have been music, closer up.
"Easy day today, huh?"
"Is that supposed to be teasing me?"
He shrugged. "Why, you like being teased?"
Emma's face twisted up in annoyance. That boy could piss off the Pope if he tried hard enough. A smile spread across his face real slowly.
"You're cute when you're mad, you know that?"
"Fuck off. Go do whatever you do when you're not banging co-eds."
"That's not fair," he pouted. "I'm meeting my tutor for history lessons."
"Alright," Emma said. She craned her neck to look up at him. "Lesson one. It's only four, and you're not scheduled until five."
"That's not history, Emma. That's the future."
"You're gonna be history, if you don't stop giving me shit."
It was supposed to come out sounding aggressive. Like a warning. But instead, it came off like she was joking right back with him. She couldn't make herself sound any other way, and she couldn't keep up her annoyance. Not after all this time.
He'd never complained about it, not once, in two solid weeks. Up to this point, Craig might not have noticed she'd been there most of the days.
Apparently that wasn't the case. And apparently, his attitude was, if you can't stop it, why fight it.
That was the attitude she wanted out of him. Don't fight, just keep on moving. There's nothing for you here.
But having him come up to her and talk to her, as if they were some kind of friends…
She lets out a breath.
"Don't you have to drop your bag off, at least?"
"Sure do. You don't mind if I stop by my dorm first?"
Emma looks up at him. "You're not serious?"
"You can wait outside, or I can grab you a can of Coke or something. I'm not making any innuendos, Miss Owens."
He said the last part in a voice so sarcastically pious that she about punched him. But she couldn't punch a face so pretty.
And if she could, she definitely couldn't do it in front of all these girls. She'd be dead by the time she made it back to the library.
Chapter Fourteen
Craig didn't realize until they were halfway up the stairs the mistake he'd made. Oh, sure. It w
asn't like this was the first time he'd had a girl up to his dorm. It likely wasn't going to be the last.
And there was nothing going to happen. Nothing at all. He knew it, his body knew it, his mind knew it. Everything knew it. Except that as he got closer, with every step, his body ached a little more.
His heart pounded a little harder in his chest. The adrenaline surged a little more. His hands were practically starting to sweat. That was when he knew how big a mistake he'd made.
Because Emma Owens wasn't just a tutor, and she wasn't just someone who was off-limits. She was a girl who was off-limits, and that's a very different thing altogether.
That's not a hard line, or a warning. That's a challenge. And when he's spent two and a half weeks without so much as being touched for an instant, Craig Weston wasn't the kind of man who backed down from a challenge.
Not even from a pint-sized firecracker who looked like a million bucks and had an attitude like someone had rolled a bunch of twenties around a cherry bomb.
That was the thought running through Craig's head as he passed through the door. She stayed by the door. That was smart for her. Better for him.
His skin ached at the thought of having a girl in the room, at the knowledge of what could happen. Not what was going to happen, but the thought of what could had him stirring before he knew what to do with himself.
Just grab her Coke, and head back out. It was simple. He leaned down to the mini-fridge and pulled it out.
The can was cold against his skin. It had been a hot day. Too hot, frankly. Everyone on the team would have rather it been cooler. Craig wasn't any sort of exception. He was sweating his ass off, and now that he had the ice-cold can in his hand, it was more tempting than he'd thought it would be.
He pulled out a second, and started back toward the door. Emma pushed herself off the wall and reached out to take the cold can from him.
Her fingers brushed against his. They were soft. Too damn soft. Women's fingers. The sort that he would have guessed she would have had. The The smell of her shampoo lingered in the air where she'd been standing, and the shock jolted through him.
Jesus. He was jumping at shadows. He'd done this a thousand times. He'd done much, much more. More times than he could easily count. But now it seemed like even little shit had him going crazy.
Her touch lingered just long enough to send Craig into overload. He took a long time as she walked out, locking the door and trying to get himself under control. Then, when he'd finally managed it, and only then, did he pop the tab on the can.
It hissed real loud and sprayed lightly onto his fingers. The taste was just right. Just like he remembered it. It went down cold and hit every spot but the one that he hadn't hit in nearly twenty days.
Surprisingly, it only made that part worse, as if it served as an unpleasant reminder that he was in the longest dry spell of his adult life. He took another drink and a deep breath and followed behind Emma.
She didn't have the best ass he'd ever seen. Not on the whole campus. But the way she's walking, he can't think of anyone else's he'd rather watch.
Craig's jaw tightens. Jesus. Get yourself together. She's not interested, and you're not interested, either. Right?
It takes a few long strides to catch up to her. She takes a drink of the soda.
"Thanks." She holds it aloft a little, as if to signify what she was thanking him for.
"No problem."
The library isn't far from his dorm. They're still forty minutes early for his appointment. It's nice to see that she didn't have to get into any trouble on his account. Less nice that she decided to follow him up to the dorm, after all.
Craig isn't sure when she started taking all the air out of the room, but now that he's noticed it, all he wants is to get a breath. That, he thinks, or get something else. Suffocate in her.
He does neither. That's how it's going to have to be. Simple as that. There's not going to be anything between them. He's going to make damn sure of it, if she doesn't. She's told him over and over that she's not interested. He's been listening.
Another deep breath. Once you've got the basics of history, the rest starts falling into place. People in the past, they weren't idiots. They made decisions for reasons. Real reasons, the kind of reasons you can learn and understand.
The problem is when you don't understand their situation, then it seems like a bunch of random people running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Thanks to Emma, though, that's not a problem any more.
The study session only takes a little while. By five, they're packing up their things.
"Dinner again tonight?"
It's not the first time that he's noticed the look on her face after he asks. The reluctance. The uncertainty. What does she think is going to happen? He's going to try to seduce her at the dinner table?
If he was going to take advantage of her, he'd have done it by now. Please. As if he needed to set the situation all up to be a big play in his advantage. No chance in hell. He was good at what he did, and like anyone who was really good at what they did, he wasn't about to stoop to playing around.
If it took a setup, then they weren't looking for something. If they weren't looking, then he wasn't selling. Simple as that. The first time he didn't know the girl's name, he should've stopped right then and there.
But it wasn't that easy. It never was. The temptation was always there. It was thank to this girl that he'd ever found the strength to resist it—not that he'd tell her so.
No, she knew what she was doing, and he wasn't going to make some kind of excuses about why he did what he did. He knew what he was doing, too. No excuses.
The thought flashes through his mind again—what it would be like, to have her under him, on top of him, to be inside her… fuck.
He blinks. No. Not a chance. Not a chance in hell. That's not what he's here for. He's here to learn more about god damn history and that's all. Nothing more. He's not here to learn how his body works with a girl who wanted nothing more, on that first day, than for him to walk away from her table and leave her be.
"You want to go someplace different today?"
The words surprise him. He'd been thinking it, but he hadn't realized that he was going to suggest it. The thought hadn't really even occurred to him at the time. It was something that he was going to do later, maybe, if he felt like it.
Or he might not have ever mentioned it. Because it wasn't like it was a date. The cafeteria was just cheap, and it was close. There wasn't much more to the decision.
Her face twists up. That same hesitation again.
"It's not a big deal, Emma."
"What did you have in mind?"
"I dunno. How about a burger?"
Her face twists up again. "And it's not a big deal?"
"Nope. No big deal at all."
She chews her lip when she's nervous. She's easy to read. Craig smiles. Very easy to read. It's a good quality in a woman. An attractive quality.
He knows he shouldn't be thinking about what qualities are or aren't attractive. Not about Emma Owens, who was completely off-limits.
But he's not stopping himself.
Chapter Fifteen
Emma slips into the car and closes the door behind herself, ignoring her mounting discomfort. A car ride? Really? Right now? Was that wise?
She hadn't been able to get her head clear since she'd first had Craig walk up to her. He was getting to her. It had gone on for a real long time for just an act, but whatever he was doing, it was getting to her.
The way he looked was every bit what she'd expected. He was gorgeous, to say the absolute least. Anyone could see that.
Spending time with him, though, that was where the surprises started. He was nothing like what she'd expected. Not when she got right down to it.
He wasn't a total skeeze, for one thing. She'd caught him looking at her once or twice, but… eh. Maybe she didn't mind it so much, if he didn't draw attention to it. If she was anyone else, an
d he was anyone else, maybe she'd have enjoyed the attention of such an attractive guy.
But he was who he was, and she was who she was, and there was no way in hell she was ever going to let anyone know that she had anything other than a big problem with it.
Craig turns the key and lets the top down before he starts moving. It's a nice day out. She could see that it was a convertible from the first time she saw the car. Part of her had almost wanted to ask if he could let the top down.
What was she, five? As it went down, she tried to fight off the mounting excitement. The car was so damn cool, though! Why shouldn't she be excited?
Another voice popped up in her head. The one she listened to. The steady one. It said that she was an adult. Only kids get excited about dumb little things like this. Sure, she'd never been in a convertible before. But what exactly did that matter? It didn't change anything. It wasn't that new, not really.
She was just overestimating how cool it was, because she was trying to make herself forget about exactly how ready she'd been in Craig's dorm room, to shut the door and…
She leans her head back. Nope. Not thinking about it. Not for a second. She didn't think about it then, either. No way. Not her. That wasn't how she'd been raised. She'd been raised right.
She was going to save herself. She was going to save as many of her thoughts as she could until then, too. It'd just make things easier, because thinking leads to wanting, leads to thinking about… other things.
Leads to considering. Leads to planning. Leads to plans being made, concrete plans. People texting other people. And then who knows where it could go from there.
Craig eased the shifter into high gear and let the throttle out a little bit. The car purred softly. They passed by the McDonald's. Maybe that's not where he was planning on going, though. Maybe he's a Whopper kind of guy. No problem. Then they passed by a Wendy's, a Burger King…
"Where are we going?"
Craig pinches his eyebrows together. "I dunno, I was thinking about this place, I've been there a couple of times with my parents… you don't mind a little drive, do you? I mean, I can turn around and—"
