I resist the urge, curling my fingers into my sweater sleeves and trying not to sniff his freshly washed hair or the deodorant he must have sprayed on after practice.
Why does he have to smell so good… and be so big and beautiful and right here?
“Okay.” He pulls the stool around from the side of my desk and takes a seat, glancing up at me with an expectant look. “You gonna sit?”
“Yeah.” I plunk into my chair and focus on the screen in front of him, too afraid to look at his face.
He’s not saying anything. He’s not touching me.
And all those familiar fears start rising to the surface again.
He was just being nice to me until he passed. Nowthat he got a good grade from Pilscher, he doesn’t need me anymore. He was just using me to pass that paper, and he’ll?—
Stop it. He’s still got the rest of the semester to get through.
And Wily’s not like that. He’s kind, remember?
I steal a quick side glance at his profile. His eyebrows are scrunched together, his jaw clenched tight as I pull up his paper for us to go through.
It must kill Professor Pilscher, but school policy is that every assignment and grade has to be uploaded to the student portal, which means that his“I only mark paper”stance must be a pain in the ass to deal with when it comes to grading. He probably gets an assistant to scan the papers into the portal.
I squint at the screen, enlarging it so we can read his comments in the margins.
“Oh, that’s good,” I murmur, pointing at his praise for paragraph one.
Wily nods, then points at the screen when I scan down to paragraph two. “What does he mean there?”
I explain the comment, telling Wily I understand the criticism and where he could have improved.
He nods, all serious, and my insides continue to deflate.
What happened to the sweet smiles from last night? Why isn’t he touching me, looking at me like he wants to kiss me?
Forcing my eyes back to the screen, I scan down a little farther until we get to the final comments.
“You really did well,” I murmur as I finish reading them.
Staring down at my hands, I pinch the top of my index finger and fight the sudden rush of tears.
What are you doing?
Don’t you dare cry!
Not until after her leaves!
“Satch,” Wily whispers, and I tense, refusing to look at him. “I’m so grateful for all your help.”
“Yeah, that’s okay.” I nod, swallowing the thickening in my throat as I wait for thelast night was a mistakespeech.
“I should give you a bonus for being such a great tutor.”
“No.” I shake my head and force out a dry laugh. “You don’t have to do that.”
He goes quiet beside me, and after a few painful beats, I have to look over and check on him. This is killing me!
The second I turn, I wish I hadn’t.
He’s staring at me with this expression I can’t decipher. He looks almost pained, and I don’t know what that means.