Page 4 of A Little Tempting

Photography, here I come.

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The classroom is exactlylike I expected. Smaller, maybe, but otherwise? Yup. It’s exactly like high school. Tan walls. A whiteboard at the front of the room. Rows of black, rectangular desks set up with two chairs tucked beneath them. And scratchy, dark carpet to camouflage any spills.

Yummy.

I make my way to the back of the room, slip off my backpack, tuck it beneath the vacant, two-person desk, and sit down on the far end. Maybe if I’m lucky, the chair beside mine will stay empty. A girl can dream, can’t she? When the cool plastic seeps into my bare thighs, I shiver, making a mental note to wear jeans for the rest of my classes since, apparently, the school enjoys blasting the air conditioning way too much for me to be comfortable in shorts and a tank top.

After pulling out a notepad and pen, I check the clock on the wall. There are still a few more minutes until class starts. The room slowly fills with people, but the chair to my right remains empty. I thank my lucky stars, playing with my cell and counting down the seconds. Maybe this class won’t be so bad after all.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the teacher announces. Dr. Broderick. Or at least it’s the name on my schedule. His navy button-up shirt stretches across his broad shoulders, almost camouflaging the beer belly hidden underneath. There’s a slight stain on his khakis, and his hair is a disheveled mess of brown and silver. He’s probably in his…forties? Honestly, I’m not sure. He isn’t smiling, though, and I can’t decide whether or not we’ll vibe well or if my clumsiness will get on his nerves.

I’ve tried to curb it. The way my balance catapults me into awkward scenarios. But thanks to my head injury, my equilibrium isn’t always one hundred percent. While some find it endearing, others find it annoying. And annoying your teacher isn’t exactly a goal one should have if they want to pass the class. Trust me, I know from personal experience.

Leaning his butt against the desk at the front of the room, he continues. “Welcome to Photography 101. My name is?—”

The door slaps against the tan-painted cinder block wall, and my head snaps toward the room’s entrance. The girls in front of me giggle quietly when they recognize the culprit. Reeves lifts his head when he hears it, catching them as they blatantly check out one of LAU’s favorite hockey players. With a shameless smirk, he lifts his chin at them in a silent hello. It’s casual and innocent and so freaking smooth I’m full-blown jealous. Not of the girls in front of me, but at how the bastard’s so damn comfortable in his own skin, it’s borderline annoying.

Then again, I guess he’s earned his right to be confident and comfortable.

Our school is known for quite a few sports, but hockey? Around here, it’s king, and the fans are all loyal subjects. Everyone knows the players, including my older brother, Griffin. Griff is the new captain this year after replacing myotherolder brother who graduated at the end of last season. Everett is Griffin’s right-hand man on and off the ice, and…then there’s Reeves. The man smirking at the girls in front of me, knowing with a single look he could have any of them at his beck and call. Hell, he probably already does.

Yeah, I’m well aware of who the infamous Reeves is. He’s so high and mighty the guy doesn’t even need a full name. He’s like Cher or Madonna or…I dunno? Who else is famous and only uses one name? Pop culture is the last thing on my radar, but it’s not the point. The point is, it's hardnotto notice a guy like him. One who’s cocky and sarcastic and has every right to wear his confidence the way he does. He’s attractive. Talented. And even nice in anI’m an asshole, but don’t let it get to youkind of way. I blame the warm chocolate eyes, perfectly messy chestnut hair, olive skin, and devilish smirk I’m pretty sure is tattooed onto his face. The sharp jaw, tall stature, and broad shoulders don’t hurt either. He isn’t known for being tied down, but from what I heard, he’s more than willing to show a girl a good time. And if my best friend, Finley, is correct, he’s shown a lot of girls a good time during his three years at LAU.

We’ve only spoken a few times, and each interaction has left me feeling more awkward and tongue-tied than the last. I’m less than graceful around almost anyone. Add a devilish smirk, a sharp tongue, and dark eyes, and I’m a fumbling mess.

Seriously. It’s a problem.

It’s also the last thing I need if I want to get through today unscathed.

Nibbling on the edge of my pen, I stare at the blank notepad in front of me as the teacher says, “Nice of you to join us, Mr. Reeves.”

“Sorry for interrupting,” Reeves replies.

“Take a seat.”

I keep my attention glued to my desk while Reeve’s firm footsteps echo off the walls as he searches for an empty spot in the room.

Please don’t notice me, please don’t notice me, I silently chant.

“This seat taken?” the familiar voice interrupts.

Perfect.

My shoulders fall, but I shake my head, answering his question while refusing to face the culprit head-on. With a low chuckle, he slides into the chair beside me, not bothering to wait for an invitation while the teacher continues summarizing the syllabus.

I should be used to talking to attractive guys or at least being around them without falling over my own feet. I have two older brothers who are athletic and pretty good-looking dudes. Why do I mention Jax and Griffin? Because attractive guys hang out with other attractive guys. I’m not sure why it’s a thing, but it is what it is. Growing up with handsome brothers with whom I’m actually really close means I’m around their friends, too. It’s simple hot guy math. The problem is my brother’s friends are way more interesting than boring numbers on a piece of paper. I learned pretty quickly to keep a wide berth or put them in the friend zone if I wanted to survive hanging out with them without sticking my foot in my mouth every two minutes.

Overall, it’s been a pretty nifty solution, and even though it’s a hit to my confidence, the guy friends haven’t complained about being friend-zoned. But Reeves? Well, he’s a different story. For one, he’s new. Okay, technically,I’mnew if we’re talking about LAU’s campus, but he’s new in a more intimate sense. Like I said, my family is pretty tight-knit. I had no choice but to get used to hanging out with Everett, Maverick, and Archer. We grew up together. Anytime one of the guys brought home a new friend, I simply made myself scarce until they left. Afterward, I’d come down from my room and hang out with everyone else. Cowardly? Sure. Convenient? I dunno, sometimes? It beat being all tongue-tied and klutzy, then mercilessly teased for said awkwardness, that’s for sure.

Unfortunately, I can’t hide in my room and wait for Reeves to disappear. He’s Griffin’s roommate, friend, hockey teammate,andmy next-door neighbor. Apparently, I can also add classmate to the list.

Perfect.

It doesn’t help how the girls in front of me won’t be quiet so I can actually focus on the teacher I blocked out for the last five minutes. The girls whisper to each other while casting glances over their shoulders at the guy beside me. Giggling, they each scribble something onto a piece of paper, and, with a quiet rip, the blonde removes the message from her notebook, folds it in half, and slips it onto my desk right in front of Reeves.

Seriously?

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