Page 21 of Tutored By the Smart Girl

I chuckle to myself.

Talk about a footlong. Damn. This girl.

Adison returns with the sandwiches,and I’ve got the TV on in my room with the college football game. She taps on the door and peeks in.

We eat our sandwiches and go over the final section of my math.

Whatever happened to her earlier when we talked aboutThe Velveteen Rabbitbook seems to be gone. She’s lively, with broad grins, and batting lashes— adorable. The girl makes my insides turn to mush. And we still manage to have a productive study session while we enjoy our lunch.

She closes the math book and tucks it into her backpack.

“Good work today.” She rises from my bed and my heart tiple times. I’m already thinking of how I’ll feel after she’s gone— missing her and alone.

She nods her head to the door. “I’m gonna head home. I have?—"

Please stay.

“You don’t have to go.”

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to her.

I struggle to find any reason to keep her here. I point to the TV as I turn it on and find a game. “Hang out and watch this game with me. It’s a good one.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Nah, I don’t think so. I’m not a big football fan.”

“Who would’ve ever guessed? Really?” I deadpan.

“Very funny.”

“Come on. I’ll teach you a few things.”

Her face is skeptical.

“About football.”

Adison

I’m all caught up on my homework. Although I have an exam on Monday, I only need to review a few of my notes, which I can do on Sunday. How many times do I get invited to watch a football game with a gorgeous player?

Never.

I settle into my spot on Rush’s bed and he puts his arm around me and pulls me toward him. I catch the scent of his soap and I’m flooded with heat that spreads through my body and settles deep in my belly.

I can’t deny I want him.

We watch the game in silence, and I melt into his embrace. I can barely focus on what’s happening on the television.

“So, what wasthatflag for,” I ask.

“I think we’re going to see roughing the kicker.”

The ref announces the penalty. Rush was right. Roughing the kicker.

As the game continues, I find myself more intrigued by the physicality of it all. The concentration, the power, the dedication it must take to make it look so effortless. The blue and gold team against the maroon and white. Rush wants the maroon and white team to win. Something about if the blue and gold team loses, it’s better for the Rebels— even if he’s not a big fan of the maroon team. Not sure I exactly understand, but the game is close, and I find myself riveted to the bed next to Rush and not wanting to miss a minute of the action. The game breaks away for a commercial break.

“It’s fourth down and one. What does that mean?” he quizzes.

I slide closer to Rush on the bed— so close that our thighs touch.

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