Page 28 of Not Fooling Anyone

I tuck my phone away and focus on the whiteboard where she’s going over cost-volume-profit analysis. I don’t want her to think I’m not taking this class seriously. She’s one of the professors that help set up senior year accounting internships. I need her to like me.

The rest of class is uneventful, as is my next one, and I head over to the library at five-thirty to meet up with Ethan.

I find him already sitting at a table in the main area on the first floor, running a hand through his dark hair till it stands on end, then flattening it down again, over and over as he stares at something on his phone. He doesn’t notice as I approach, fixated on whatever’s on his screen, and as I get closer, the dark circles under his eyes are apparent.

“Rough weekend?” I ask, dropping my backpack on the table.

He startles, swiftly turning over his phone so it’s facedown. Could he be more obvious?

“Something like that,” he mutters.

“Party too hard?” It’s nearly evening, though. Any lingering effects from his weekend antics should be long gone by now.

“I’m not much of a partier.”

Really? With as social as he is?

He’s uncharacteristically silent as I unpack my textbook and notebook, sitting there glumly as I spread my things out on the table. What’s going on with him?

I can’t believe I’m initiating this, but I ask, “Are you okay?” Usually, I can’t get him to shut up. And after the way he helped me out last week, I should make more of an effort to be nicer to him.

He runs a hand over his beard, tugging at the ends. “Yeah, fine. I, uh…” He stands, rounding the table. “I’m actually going to grab a coffee.” He motions toward the small coffee shop attached to the library. “You want anything?”

“No, I’m fine.”

He nods, still seeming distracted, and walks off, leaving me alone. What the hell was that about? Well, if he wants to waste his tutoring time, that’s on him.

I review my notes from Thursday’s study session, glancing up as he finally returns with a coffee in his hand. “More awake?”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” He rubs at the back of his neck, his bicep bunching as he stretches his arm up. Not that I’m looking. It was hard enough not staring at him shirtless in the gym last week.

He places a white paper bag on the table as he sits back down, pulling out a blueberry muffin and a plastic knife. He cuts it in two and slides half over to me. “I only wanted a taste,” he explains.

Fine with me. I love these things.

I take a bite and ask him what he wants to go over specifically for the test tomorrow, but he shrugs, asking me to read my notes to him aloud.

Okay, whatever.

He asks a few clarifying questions over the next twenty or so minutes, but otherwise stays quiet, listening to me.

By the time he’s finished with his drink, he’s more awake, and asks me to pause so he can throw away his cup. On his way back to the table, a guy stops him, and I’m only half paying attention until I hear them mention calculus.

I tune my ears in, listening as the stranger thanks Ethan for all the help he gave him last semester. The guy actually says he wouldn’t have passed the class without him. Say what now? Was Amber right when mentioning it was Calculus he and Christian took together?

Ethan’s gaze shifts to meet mine briefly, a guilty expression crossing his face before he excuses himself and returns to the table.

“What was that about?” I ask, pretending not to have overheard them.

“Nothing.”

Yeah, right. “Do you know him?”

“We were in the same class last semester.”

I shut my textbook, folding my hands atop it. “Which class?”

He strokes his beard. “Why the twenty questions?”

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