Red welts crawl up my skin and heat flashes into my face. “Because you treat studying like a joke.”
“No, it’s because you think I am a joke.” He sits back down.
I snap, “No, I think you hide behind one.”
One flicker of a flame could cause an explosion because the air is so heavy.
“You don’t know what I hide,” he snaps back.
And for the first time in my presence, there’s no grin adorning Parker’s face.
No charm. Just something raw.
I should take it as the time to pull back, instead I say, “Prove it.”
He stares right through me.
“Prove what? I think the better question is what are you trying to prove? That you’re a superior student? Because I’ll have you know except for this class, I have straight A’s.”
“In what, underwater basketweaving?” I’m being snarky but he brings out the worst in me.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“And you’re never prepared.”
His throat bobs and his jaw clenches. “God you’re so…”
I cut him off. “Disciplined?”
“Cold.”
That one word hits harder than it should. Cold. Maybe I am.
I slam my notebook against the table. “We’re done.”
“Are you serious? You’re quitting. Well, I’ll tell you that my parents didn’t raise a quitter. Your parents taught you to give up when you’re faced with an obstacle.”
He has no idea.
“I don’t need to tutor people who don’t respect my time.”
He folds his arms over his chest and the veins in forearms bulge to absolute perfection. Most girls would be salivating. Not me.
“I was twenty-three minutes late.”
“You’re always late.”
“Because I have practice,” he says, raising his voice. “But you said this was the only time that worked for you.”
“And I don’t have to lower my standards. My time is valuable. I work as much as you practice.”
A couple of students glance our way, hoping the show continues so they can gossip about the football star and the geeky girl.
“Got it. You think you’re better than me.”
“Not better, but I work harder.”
The words hang between us. Sharp. Final.