Page 10 of Sincerely, Your Enemy

“It’s Lacey,” I correct him.

He nods. “Lacey. My bad.”

I bet you a million dollars he won’t remember it in five minutes.

“I’m here to pick up my sister’s phone,” I remind him to be safe. The guy obviously has memory problems.

“Right. Let me go get it.”

I watch him disappear inside the house and come back a minute later.

“Here.” He hands me Sierra’s phone, and I flip it over to check for damage.

Not a scratch.

Thank God. Sierra would’ve never let me hear the end of it.

“Great. Thanks again.” I slip the phone into my jeans’ back pocket and turn to leave. I’m foolish enough to hope he’s going to let me get away with it. Until TJ’s deep voice erupts behind me.

“Now, about that favor…”

Shit.

“Absolutely not.”My answer is a no-brainer.

I should’ve known my past good deeds would come back to bite me in the ass. I swear, you tutor a jockonce,and the next thing you know, you have half the team asking for help.

Okay, this might be a slight exaggeration, but I already work and go to school full-time on top of being the equivalent of a single parent, so this guy is batshit crazy if he thinks I have time to help him pass calculus.

I may be excellent at math—something I got from my dad—but whatever efforts I don’t pour into math class have to go into other school subjects. Like literature. My essays just might be the worst things you’d ever have the misfortune of reading—my English lit professor would attest to that.

“Why not? You did it for Chance. A few study dates with you, and the asshole was top of his class.”

“Yeah, because he was dating my best friend at the time.Andbecause he paid me.”

Chance and my best friend Dia went out for a short while our first year of college. He was nice, and he offered me good money in exchange for my help. Our arrangement made sense. This, however, wouldn’t.

A scoff leaves his mouth. “Like you needed the money.”

He really has no idea, does he?

If it weren’t for Daniel, my mom’s husband and my stepfather, sending us money without my mom’s knowledge, my siblings and I would be on the street, going through people’s trash to survive. He’s kind enough to help me out with rent, utility bills, and groceries every month. Anything else—like car expenses, clothes, phone bills, and school supplies—comes out of my paychecks.

I move closer, craning my neck and pinning him with a defying look. Wow, the guy istall. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I did need the money. Still do, actually.”

He doesn’t seem to buy it, but he doesn’t argue. “Look, if I don’t fix my GPA right the fuck now, they’ll take me off the team. I can’t lose that scholarship. It doesn’t have to be every week. I just need a little help. Then I promise I’ll leave you alone.”

I’d be lying if I said the words “Sucks to be you” weren’t at the forefront of my mind right about now.

I have enough problems as it is. The last thing I need is to get coerced into tutoring a snarky basketball player out of the goodness of my heart.

“Sorry, but no.” I prepare to leave, rising off the kitchen chair. He invited me in so we could chat. But I’ve heard all I needed to hear.

“What happened to you owing me one?” he reminds me, a drop of desperation in his voice, and I let out a laugh.

“You gave me back my sister’s phone. Big deal. I hardly think that obligates me to several hours of free tutoring.” I’m halfway to the entrance of the small bungalow before he can blink.

He scoffs. “Damn, rich girl, you’recold.”

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