Page 43 of Ivory's Ruin Romance

Adrian scoffed, and she couldn’t stop herself from smiling. Getting under his skin never got old.

“Really, though,” she continued. “I haven’t seen him on campus and that’s where I spend all my time now, either going over class notes or getting extra office hours with the professors.” She sighed. Discussing her issues hadn’t been in her plans, either, but maybe if he saw her flaws, he’d be more accepting of his. “My grades aren’t looking so good. I thought last semester was bad because of the new environment, but now I think maybe it’s because of me.”

“What makes you think it’s you?” he asked, switching sides to work on the other half of her head.

Excitement bubbled up to see the full effect of the new color, but she tried her best to be patient. “I enjoy my classes, and it’s not like I don’t study. I’m just…not as smart as I thought I was.”

“By smart, you mean getting a 4.0?” he asked. “There’s a lot of other ways to measure intelligence.”

“Yeah, I know,” she said. “I know I have to put in the work, too. I expected college to be a bigger challenge than high school, and I’ve tried to work extra hard, but it’s not making a difference. My mom was valedictorian at her graduation, and it’s kinda expected that I’ll be the same.”

“Do you want to be valedictorian?”

“I don’t not want it.” She thought it over, admitting what she hadn’t dared to tell her family. “I don’t mind being average, either. That’s all I’ve ever been.” Her hands curled into balls in her lap.

“You’re anything but average, Iv,” Adrian murmured. “I haven’t met anyone else who cares about others the way you do. Look at what you’ve done for Nia. I doubt she thinks you’re average.”

He paused to unpin a section of hair and applied more dye on the brush. “You got accepted here, so I don’t think you aren’t smart enough. Most people decide to give up instead of working harder. Be proud of what you’ve achieved. Plus, you’re an amazing baker and by far my favorite person to talk to.”

Her heart swelled. All that came so easy to him, like it was so obvious, but she’d never thought of herself that way. “You really think so?”

He chuckled. “Even from the first night we talked, I didn’t want to sell you short with an arrangement when you deserve so much more…however it seems that showing you how harsh I can be didn’t scare you away.” She caught his eye from the corner of hers, but then he glanced away. “I can’t say much about the importance of good grades, but from what I’ve seen, you have an amazing heart. Don’t dismiss your strengths for one moment of weakness.”

Speaking of hearts, hers was racing a thousand miles a minute. This suddenly got much deeper than she thought possible. All those words couldn’t really be meant for her.

On top of that, this meant he’d thought about her—as much more than a stranger or friend from that first night. What would have happened if she agreed to follow his rules? What would he have wanted?

No, being his friend meant more to her than regretting what could have been. Knowing him on a personal level wouldn’t have been possible if she’d been bound by the rules of his arrangements. She wanted access to more than just his body.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, uncoiling her hands. “I think you’re pretty amazing, too.”

He paused as he put down the brush by the sink. “Thank you,” he said at last, as if her one sentence meant more than his entire speech. Then he cleared his throat and announced, “All done.”

Her heart did a little flip. It was done. If only that meant she could see the final product right now. “I have to let it sit for a while, right?”

“Yep,” he answered. “You’re welcome to wait here, or if you want to spend time with Nia across the hall, come back in an hour.”

In the thirty minutes it took to put on the dye, she’d learned so much. She wasn’t about to give up a whole hour with him. “Could I stay?” she asked, standing to stretch her legs.

“Of course,” he replied, back turned as he rinsed out the brushes and put away the dye. A Harley-Davidson shirt stretched across his shoulders and biceps, black jeans hanging around strong hips and thighs. His touch had been so careful, but his physique was nothing but power and masculinity.

What could he have been through to impact his psyche so much?

“You could tell me more about yourself,” she added. “I like talking with you.”

He turned to her with a smile, a few loose strands of his bun falling to his neck. “Me too.”

She blushed.

“Here, put this on.” His fingers feathered a trail of heat around her face as he helped her out on a plastic hair cap. “There. Feel free to make yourself at home.”

Moving cautiously so as not to let her hair slip out, she grabbed the plate of cookies and followed him to the living room, then curled into one end of the couch as he sat on the other.

He reached over, picked up a cookie, and arched his eyebrows. “What do you want to know?”

She shrugged. “What was your life like before college?”

They passed the rest of the cookies back and forth as he told her about his childhood. How his dad loved to play ball with him and his friends, and all the times he covered for his sister when she was up to no good. Most of his stories were from when he was younger—everything after that was reduced to short answers, but that was okay. She didn’t want to pry when he’d just begun to open up.

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