Page 7 of Tutored By the Smart Girl

Sean points to my cup. “So, you bring something special?”

“Special?”

He pours the cola into my cup. “Top-shelf whiskey?”

Top-shelf whiskey? I have no idea what he’s talking about since I’m not an alcohol connoisseur.

My stomach flutters. “Only the best, right?”

“Exactly.” He pats my shoulder. “I like your style.”

I take a pull from my cup. The cold soda refreshes me as I lean into the kitchen countertop. I take a few deep breaths and focus on attempting to look like I’m enjoying myself. The room that moments ago felt large enough to accommodate this crowd, now closes in on me.

Anna returns and leads me to the center of the living room which is now crammed with rowdy houseguests. I’m in the middle of a throng of activity— pulsating music, laughter, talking, cheering which comes from the game of pong going on in the next room.

“Adison, this is Brenna.” Anna points to a black-haired girl wearing a tight black top and jean skirt. “Brenna, my roommate, Adison.”

“Hi, Brenna.”

“Hey there.” Brenna wraps her arm around another girl with blonde braids and a cup with a drink threatening to spill as the girls sway to the music.

My eyes dart around the room and I take in the crowd of happy partygoers. No one’s staring at me— I’m just another college student. An unexpected sense of relief comes over me and releases all the tension that I was holding onto.

As the evening grinds on, I manage to get acquainted with a few of Anna’s friends. It’s hard to talk above the noise of the music and laughter, but at least my ears aren’t on fire anymore and my palms aren’t dripping like a faucet.

Maybe this isn’t so bad after all.

My heart stops when I spot a gorgeous guy sitting in an upholstered chair chatting with a guy on a nearby couch. Chair guy has thick, dark hair and a faint growth of stubble on his chin. His brown eyes catch me looking at him and he grins.

Hello, Mr. Sexy.

He’s wearing a tight black T-shirt that practically rips against his bulging biceps. His well-defined pecs can’t be ignored. This guy does some serious working out.

Someone grab the damn smelling salts. I’m a Victorian woman with a case of the vapors.

I enjoy the view of his movements in the straining cotton. I’m in my own world as I stare at Mr. McSexy.

My attention is drawn away as the crowd chants.

“Benji! Benji! Benji!”

The chants are coming from the beer pong table.

A guy, the size of a giant, bumps into me while the chants continue.

His deep voice rumbles above the noise. “Hold my beer, sweetheart.”

He shoves an overflowing cup of brew into my chest. I grab his cup before it spills on the other people nearby who are squeezed into this space. The crowd parts as he heads over to the beer pong table.

Apparently, he’s Benji and I’m holding Benji’s beer.

Just as he reaches the table, a group of three large guys dart through the crowd and crash into me. I start to pivot as I focus on holding the cups steady. The beer sloshes to the top of the red plastic cup, but I right myself just in time to save Benji’s beer. Still a bit unsteady, a party-goer bumps into my back and I lose my balance. I fall forward in slow motion— straight for Mr. McSexy. I try desperately to right myself.

Oh crap.

In a heap of flying woman, I crash land right onto his lap.

He lets out a breath. Oomph.

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