Page 30 of Not Fooling Anyone

“I thought he was just being nice. You’re paying him to help you beat up people.”

He chuckles. “I love boxing, but it’s not my whole world. Yeah, I’d like to compete, but it’s not sustainable for a long-term future.”

“So what’s your major?”

“Civil engineering.”

I hide my face in my hands again. He has a nearly perfect GPA in his junior year with that major? I’m a fucking idiot.

“You don’t even take notes,” I mumble.

“I’m a good auditory learner. I hear something and it just kind of… sticks.”

Of course it does. Meanwhile, I have to study my notes ten times to remember it well enough for a test.

I mentally review our past interactions, the assumptions I made, the incredible patience he must have shown. “God, I’ve been such a bitch to you.”

“No, you’re just… prickly.”

My lower lip quivers for a moment before I firm it. Prickly. That’s a good word for me.

Why is he helping me? This was supposed to be an equal exchange. He helped me out of a jam and I help him in class. But it’s unbalanced now. “If you don’t need me to tutor you, what can I do? This needs to be equal.”

“Lexie, you don’t have to do anything extra. Let’s just continue the study.”

“No, you were the one who helped me out to begin with. I need to make it up to you. I didn’t even pay you my share of the pizza from the other night.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

I shake my head, knowing I’m being stubborn, but that’s who I am. Prickly and stubborn. “I don’t want to owe you.”

He rests his elbows on the table, blowing out a long breath. “We’re partners in this, right? That means we do things for each other. Sometimes I pick up the slack, sometimes you do. And we do it because we want to, not because we’re obligated.”

The question burns on my tongue, but I’m afraid to ask it.Why would you want to help me?

Guys don’t do things out of the goodness of their hearts. Even if they are gorgeous and athletic and charming and smart.

Especially then.

But Ethan… He doesn’t seem to follow the normal rules, does he?

“So can we be partners?” he asks softly. “Without worrying about keeping score?”

I waver. This isn’t the dynamic I’m used to.

“Your Snookums wants to finish the study with his Pookie Bear.”

A huff of laughter escapes me. “We’re not actually calling each other that.”

“Speak for yourself.”

I give him a shaky smile, something about this moment feeling defining as I nod. Like we’re actually a team rather than acting out of necessity.

His earlier bad mood appears forgotten as he smiles back, the two of us silently agreeing to continue studying, not acknowledging aloud how this changes things.

Because there’s no doubt… things are different now.

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