Page 15 of Study Buddies

“Have you started it yet?”

He cocked his head to the side. “What do you think?”

“That’s not a problem. We can work on an outline this week, and then you can start writing it over the weekend.”

“Weekends are for parties,” he said flatly. “And as for writing it, isn’t that what AI is for?”

Uh-oh. I let out a huff of air. This wasn’t going well at all, although there was a slight glint in his eye, and I wasn’t a hundred percent sure he was being serious. At least not about the AI part. As for not working on weekends, that I truly believed. He looked like the kind of guy who would spend his weekend at parties. “Are you in a fraternity?” I asked.

He arched an eyebrow at my out-of-the-blue question. “Yes.”

“It’s not Rho Kappa Alpha, is it?” Hailey had worked in that notorious frat house over the summer, and she’d had some problems with some of the members.

Kyle scoffed. “No. Because I’m not a rich pretty boy.” He reached in the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a bright red apple, which he tossed absentmindedly in the air. “They do throw some excellent parties, though.”

I watched as the apple flew straight up and then back down to his waiting hand. It was easier to focus on its fluid movement rather than his face because it was clear that at least half of his claim that he wasn’t a rich pretty boy was true. He was gorgeous. The tall, dark, and handsome type. The quintessential charming and popular college athlete.

And judging by his attitude, he knew it. It would be hard not to, with the way female students at other tables kept eyeing him.

I stifled a sigh. His apathy toward his schoolwork was definitely a problem.

“When can you start on the paper?” I asked, trying to get things back on track.

“I’ve got a game Friday night.”

Oh, right. Baseball. “When is your season over?”

“It’s already over, for the most part. Just a few exhibition games left. Have you ever been to one?”

“No.”

“Figures.” Kyle finally set the apple on the table next to his phone, but two seconds later, he was tossing it from hand to hand. He had a kind of restless energy that made me think that sitting still during class was a difficult thing for him.

“We need to work on the outline,” I insisted. “How about Thursday afternoon?”

Kyle studied me for a long moment before saying, “All right.” He didn’t consult the calendar on his phone.

“Three o’clock?”

His attention was on the apple he kept throwing and catching. As if it was more important than his grade—and mine.

Frustrated, I stood up, my hand shooting out. The apple grazed my fingertips and ricocheted away from the table. Kyle stretched his long arm out, almost to the point of overbalancing, and caught the apple.

“Maybe you should leave fielding fly balls to me,” he remarked, but he set the apple on the table.

“Fine.” Feeling foolish and a little angry, I sat back down. “Can you meet at three on Thursday or not?”

He frowned at me, as if I was asking some big favor of him. But his grade, and his position on the team was on the line. Shouldn’t he care about that?

“Fine.”

I nodded, feeling relieved. “You’ll need a laptop for this. Can you bring one?”

He tapped his index finger against his phone. “Have you ever seen one of these? It’s a tiny computer that fits in your pocket.”

“You can’t type a paper on a phone.”

He smirked. “I don’t need to type it. I’ll dictate, and you can take a memo.”

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