Page 20 of Overtime
“How about now?”
I grunt.
She tilts her head, and a strand of her hair caught on her shoulder drops to her chest. The chest I now have the perfect measure of in my head.
“You do that a lot, you know? Grunt like a caveman.”
I nod. Iknow. I do it so I don’t blurt out what’s going through my head. Which right now goes against Step One of my plan. And I need to remind myself that Strawberry here is a major player in the success of Step Two, so I shouldn’t be standing here wondering if her underwear matches the bra I can now see tossed over a chair in the corner.
I clear my throat. “Anyway, you good?”
Her eyebrows rise and her face scrunches up. She scratches her elbow. But then she lifts her chin. “Yes, I’m good.”
And I’m Ken Dryden.
But this is none of my business. Just like how her underwear isn’t any of my damn business. I lick a drop of mustard from my thumb and tear my eyes away from the bra.
“See you tomorrow, Strawberry.”
Annoyance takes over her features. “Don’t make me call you Aaron.”
A girl who can take itanddish it back, huh?
I grin. “See you tomorrow,Maddie.”
I don’t know whether I should be amused or worried that tutoring sessions won’t be a drag after all.
CHAPTER 8
MADDIE
Irush through the buildings in the central campus area at a brisk walk. My white Dr. Martens squeak with every step as they shed the residual slush from outside, but I’m happy to trade potential slips for noisy boots that make people stare. Pushing the door to the student center with my shoulder, I pause for a second to relish the warmth. Melinda always keeps it a notch too high, but it’s snowing outside, and this is the next best thing to a roaring fireplace.
It’s close to noon, so the place is mostly deserted. One of the tutors frantically types something on one of the office computers. Beyond the counter, I see my boss in her office. She’s on the phone, though, so I’ll have to wait to have this conversation with her.
But I spot Wyatt coming out of the break room. Jackpot.
“Wyatt,” I whisper and motion with my mitten-covered hand.
He lifts his head away from a steaming cup of gross hot chocolate, more commonly used to warm our hands than as a drink. “Hey, Maddie. What’s up?”
“We need to talk.” I glance around. The other tutor is watching, that snoop. “In private.”
“Oh, sounds intriguing.”
Never one to back away from a good piece of gossip, he follows me into the one meeting room in the student center. I take a seat across the table, finally catching my breath. I’ve been high-strung since this morning, but I have a plan now.
I wait until he takes a seat and sets the paper cup on the table before I speak. “Is there any chance we could swap students so we have the ones we were assigned to from the beginning?”
The way his eyebrows rise pulls his eyes as wide as saucers. “Wait, did something happen after I left?”
“No.” But he starts leaning away, and I figure it’ll be harder to convince him if I’m not honest. “Not after you left. Later. Many hours later.”
“Oh?” Wyatt leans forward.
I huff, blowing a strand of my hair away from my face. I try tucking it behind my ears, but my mittens are too thick. They also feel too good to remove just yet. My hair will have to stay messy.
“You’re stalling, so this must be good.”
