“Professor,” I greeted him.
“Someday,” Bennet said.
“Am I late?” I asked, dropping my duffel beside a desk in the first row and pulling the chair back. I never sat in the first rows, so the sensation was odd. The back rows were where all the fun had always been.
“No,” he said. “I was early.”
“I never doubted you,” I said. I looked around. “This is a fitting place for lessons, huh?”
“Right?” Bennet got up from behind the desk, hands behind his back, suspenders hooked to his dark blue pants, rising up a nice, white shirt with pale red lines forming checks. He looked too much like Matt Smith’s Doctor for anyone’s good. Except, he was even cuter. Floppy hair fell over his brow, curling lightly at the ends, reading glasses black and elegant, shoulders broader than they’d seemed under the hoodie.
“Nice clothes,” I said, unable to resist it. Didn’t it mean something that we’d talked about this just the other day, and he picked the same clothes? Maybe I was just imagining it. It was one of those weird things when you confused your eagerness to pass Stats withthe attraction for your tutor. Like I’d have an easier time learning this stuff if the teacher thought I was handsome, too.
Bennet tucked his hands into his pockets and looked away. “Thanks.” His voice was low, the word hurried, and it did something to me. “How was…practice?”
I leaned back in my chair, legs kicked forward, hands folded behind my head. “I wrecked my teammates and left a trail of carnage on the field.”
Bennet’s lips quivered slightly into a smile. Or near one, at least. “Is that good?”
“That is incredible,” I said. “Not to brag, but I’m a brute.”
Now he laughed. It was short, restrained, but it was real. He glanced around the room, then at me. “You can sit over here if you want.” He gestured at the big desk.
I hopped onto my feet and carried my chair over to the desk. Bennet circled around to Colby’s seat, and a trail of sweet scent lingered behind him. I inhaled it deep into my lungs, watching the back of his neck. It was long and smooth, skin creamy and clear. “You smell nice,” I said.
He looked at me, wide-eyed for a moment, then nodded. “Um…you too.”
“Yeah?” I cracked a smile. I had no problem telling people nice things, but hearing them was a whole different thing. People didn’t give me compliments, precisely. More often, they told me how good my gamewas, and that wasn’t a subjective perception but reality.
He looked at me for a moment longer. “Yes.”
“Good to know,” I said.
He sat down and opened the textbook, looking over the page. “Glad to see you’re fully clothed,” Bennet said, words coming from some quiet place inside him that I was suddenly sure he didn’t let out often enough.
I laughed aloud and shook my head. “Liar. You’re not glad at all.”
When he looked up from the page, his cheeks were a touch redder. “I…”
“I’m teasing you,” I said.
“Oh.” He exhaled, laughing only a little.
As I watched his fingers move over the page, a slight tremor passing through them, I realized something that had gone over my head before. He wasn’t rude at all. He wasn’t entirely uninterested in me. And he didn’t lack a sense of humor.
He was awkward.
And that was on me. I hadn’t done enough to break the ice. I’d just stormed in, all football confidence and easy jokes, and I hadn’t even tried to make him comfortable.
I’d invited him to watchSeeds of Soullessbecause a casual invite like that wouldn’t make me bat an eye, but we weren’t the same. Bennet had been nervous about going, nervous about replacing the date whohad walked out on me, and I hadn’t done enough to make sure he felt good around me.
I kept forgetting that people had that weird feeling around athletes on a pro track. They got all flustered and nervous. Especially the nerdier guys. I’d gone on dates with a few, walking in like I was heaven-sent, making things awkward for everyone.
But there was something cute about the awkwardness, too.
“Let’s get busy,” Bennet said with a healthy dose of confidence. This was him in his element. He could be very cocky about the stats, same as I could about my perfect runs.
I sat through the next hour, my brain sweating with effort to memorize all this stuff. The trouble wasn’t just that I couldn’t understand how standard deviation was calculated. It would be great if that were my only problem.