Page 81 of Mine to Take

So…yeah.

I nibble my lower lip as Willow pulls the laptop toward her and focuses on the screen. I’m watching so closely that I see the exact moment her brow furrows.

That’s all it takes for my muscles to lock as I prepare myself for a barrage of questions and comments. Ones that will ultimately leave me feeling like a dumbass.

And that’s the last kind of guy she’s going to want to fuck.

The longer she remains silent, pressing the down arrow and scrolling through the second half of the paper, the more tension gathers in my shoulder blades as my foot thumps a steady rhythm.

I really fucking hate writing.

And reading.

It’s so damn difficult.

Torturous.

How anyone finds pleasure in the activity is beyond me.

The computer helps. Spellcheck and other grammar tools are a lifesaver.

It sucked when I was in elementary school and everything had to be handwritten. Most of my teachers couldn’t make heads or tails out of my penmanship.

And spelling?

Forget about it.

I can’t spell to save my life.

Even if I memorized the word, the letters don’t always come out looking like they should.

I steal another glance at her.

Yep, definite mistake.

There’s only one way this is going to end.

And that’s badly.

24

Willow

My thoughts churn as I digest the final paragraph of Maverick’s paper. The topic focuses on whether college athletes should be paid. Despite the punctuation and grammatical errors, it’s both interesting and informative. There are some paragraphs that are short and abrasively to the point. They need to be expanded with more supporting examples and evidence to back up the ideas. Then there are others that seem to ramble and meander before finally coming to a close. It’s almost like he forgot the main point he was trying to get across to the reader. Better organization of his thoughts would also help.

Those are all correctable problems we can work on.

What struck me most is that reading Maverick’s paper reminded me of all the times I helped my brother with his homework in high school. There are the same patterns of errors with punctuation, grammar, and organization that lead me to believe Maverick might have the same issue.

Dyslexia.

I’m certainly not an expert, and I could be wrong.

That’s what I’m most afraid of.

As I gather my thoughts, I peek at the hockey player, only to find him watching me intently.

The easy confidence of before is notably absent from his expression. In its place is a look of tension.

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