Page 10 of Love Me Steadfast
He shakes his head. Our younger sister has been testing boundaries since she was five. It might be inspiring if it wasn’t so exhausting.
“I’ll talk to her,” I say as Theo pulls up in the school’s turnaround.
“Please. ‘Cause she’s not listening to me. It’s not safe for her to be out in the middle of the night, you feel me?”
“Totally.” I jump out and head for the library.
I’m early, so I check in with Mrs. Hackney, the PE teacher who runs the tutoring program, then go to my table and set up my extra pencils, laptop, and place my water bottle on the floor next tomy chair. Two other tables have been cleared for tutoring—one for math and another for Spanish but I’m the first person here.
I’m about to pull up the textbooks online when a figure darkens the library doorway.
It’s William. He’s partially in shadow, but his jaw looks tense even from here. He’s wearing a Falcons Football hat, a faded blue T-shirt, and jeans that fit so perfectly—loose and snug in exactly the right places—I have to bite back my groan.
I look away before he can catch me staring, but that annoying flutter is already working up my chest.
“Morning, William,” Mrs. Hackney says in her brisk tone. She offers him the sign in sheet.
“Hi,” William replies, his head dipped low as he signs in, like he’s trying not to be noticed.
Fat chance. It’s impossible not to drink in his broad shoulders and that chiseled jawline. He’s not as tanned as he should be given how much time the football team spends outside. It’s the helmet and all the gear, just like with Theo. His forearms and calves are browned while his chest and knees are a pasty white. Something I make sure to tease him about.
Mrs. Hackney points to my table, and my heart stops.
One of William’s eyebrows dips when he sees me sitting here.
Mrs. Hackney says something to him, and he gives her a quick nod, then continues to my table.
I stare up at him, but the dark look in his eyes sends a chill of apprehension down my spine. Is he angry he has to be here? Embarrassed? Does he have something againstme?
Wren’s comment bounces through my thoughts. Gawd, does he think I’m here as an excuse to spend time with him?
William pulls out a chair and sets his backpack on the floor. “How does this…work?”
I clasp my hands on the table in front of me. “What are you struggling with?”
“I’m not—” He stops himself, grimacing. “I didn’t do so well on the unit test.”
“You can do corrections,” I say.
“Yeah, that’s what the teacher said.”
“Do you want to work on that?”
“I don’t know.” It comes out heated—even defensive. He grimaces again.
I wait, my pulse tapping into my throat. He’s like a skittish colt, ready to flee at the first hint of discomfort.
William reaches down into his backpack and pulls out his school-issued laptop. He logs in and clicks to an open tab. His face is still scrunched tight in a scowl. He gives me a quick glance, his dark eyes accusing, like he doesn’t want to trust me.
I don’t know what his issue is, but I try not to sneer back. Are we just going to dance around him actually getting the help he needs all morning or can we get cracking?
Finally, he turns back to his screen and sighs, then turns the laptop toward me.
I pull it a little closer, then click through his answers to the history exam, trying not to wince. He missed over half of the questions.
“Do you have the form pulled up?” I ask. Though I’ve never done corrections, I remember from the syllabus that there’s a template stored on the main assignments page.
“What form?”
