“Yeah, upstairs,” the guy replied. “Know the way?”
I nodded. “Thanks.”
And that was it. I was free to walk around their house all I liked, apparently. They didn’t even ask me my name.
I went upstairs and down the hallway to the end, where the last door was Jason’s. My heart hammered in my chest, and I realized that this could have been a mistake.
Why was I here? Why was I doing this? Why was I more invested in his football career than he was? I risked a lot coming here, not even twenty-four hours after the kiss that had apparently made Jason not want to even learn from me, let alone do anything else. And yet, I couldn’t just let him fail Stats because it would be awkward for me to tutor him.
So I raised my fist and knocked on his door. My heart thundered as a bark came through the door. “Come in,” Jason called.
I turned the knob carefully and pushed the door, light pouring out of his room and into the dark hallway. Jason, shirtless and wearing his favorite gray sweatpants, lay on his bed with a comic book in his hands. Peanut was already running around the room excitedly and leaped at me as I stepped into the room.
Jason blinked and sat up abruptly. He cleared his throat, then looked around the room. “Oh. Hey. Um. Hi.”
“Hey, hi yourself,” I said, closing the door andbending down to give Peanut ear scratches. That was it. The Thinkers had to get a dog, too.
“Wh-what are you…what are you doing here?” he stammered as he closed the comic and set it on the nightstand, resting his hands in his lap. Those sweatpants were thin and baggy, draping over his thighs and crotch so lightly that every shape was clearly discernible, but I swallowed the knot in my throat and refused to look again.
If only he would put on a T-shirt, things would be so much easier. That said, it was boiling in here. “We had a session,” I pointed out, still busy with Peanut instead of looking into Jason’s eyes.
“Aw, shit,” Jason said. “I’m sorry, Bennet. I was swamped.”
“Uh-huh,” I said.
He was silent for a long while. I was looking at Peanut, down on one knee to make scratching him easier.
“Who’s a good boy?” I whispered excitedly as Peanut danced a little jig around me. “You are. Yes, you are.”
“That was a lie,” Jason said in a low voice.
“Yeah,” I said, glancing at him. I wished I could hold his gaze for longer than a second, but I couldn’t. He was too pretty and too intense and too chaotic, so if I looked into his eyes, I would lose myself in the storm. I looked at Peanut instead, who was the calming element despite his infinite excitement. “I figured.”
“You’re the smartest guy I know,” Jason said. “I knew you’d see through it.”
“I just…” I shrugged. “I don’t understand why you would tank your career over something stupid like that.”
Jason swallowed hard. I heard it from two paces away and with Peanut between us. “Well, I did a stupid thing, and I figured you might feel a certain way about it.”
That made me look up. Damn, his muscles were defined. Was he flexing? No. He just looked like that.
Jason shifted on the bed, one knee up, forearm braced on it like he needed the angle to steady himself. His eyes flicked down to Peanut, then back to me, and I could see the calculation happening behind them.
I saw him trying to decide which version of himself he was supposed to be.
“You don’t have to stand there on the floor,” he said. “You can sit. I mean, if you want.”
“I’m fine,” I said, still scratching Peanut because it gave my hands something to do that wasn’t trembling.
“Right. Cool. Fine.” Jason rubbed the back of his neck. He was trying to look casual, but the motion only highlighted the lines of his shoulders and the taut stretch of his biceps. It would have been indecent if I had been in the mood to appreciate it. I was, unfortunately, always in the mood to appreciate it. “Look, I’m sorry. About the library.”
I glanced at him again. His cheeks were faintlypink. Either the room was even warmer than it felt, or he had been thinking too much.
“I waited,” I said.
“I know.” His voice dropped. “I’m sorry.”
The apology landed heavier than I expected. It made me angry in a quiet, tight way because it was honest. Honest apologies were harder to brush off. They demanded a response. They demanded that I admit I had been hurt in some way.