Page 23 of Don't Let Me Fall (Don't Let Me 1)

But I also don’t ogle him, which is why I think he favors me over most of the other students. Not tooting my own horn or anything.

As the rest of the class files out of the room, he rests his butt against his desk, propping himself up with his arms on either side. His white sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, showcasing his drool-worthy forearms, but I only take a quick peek before focusing on the last student as she leaves the room.

Once we’re the only people left, I ask, “Is there a problem, Professor?”

“Not at all. I wanted to tell you I have a student who could use some tutoring. I thought you might be interested in helping him out. The hours you put into helping him will count toward your teaching program, and you’ll be paid for your time.”

“Oh?”

“He’s a transfer student but needs some help in a few of his classes. His mother asked if I knew anyone patient enough to help him out. You came to mind. I thought it would be a good opportunity for you to brush up on your teaching skills.”

“His mother?” I ask, surprised.

“She’s friends with the dean. Look, I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I think it’s important you understand the situation.” He glances toward the door and makes sure we’re alone.

Stepping closer to his desk, I prod, “Go on.”

“He had some trouble at his other school, and she called in a favor. Unfortunately, he’s continued to struggle since the transfer.”

“And he apparently needs a babysitter?” I can’t help the sarcasm as it slips into my question, but seriously. This is college. If you don’t have what it takes, you should find a different way to spend your time. And LAU? It isn’t cheap. I have the student loans to attest to it. So, why is his mom sticking her nose in her son’s business? And why is her son still here if he isn’t interested in actually applying himself? It doesn’t make any sense.

“He needs someone to help him focus,” Professor Buchanan continues. “His mother thinks a tutor might be the thing to point him in the right direction, and since you’re one of the most patient people I’ve ever met, I think you could be a good fit. You interested?”

I mean, no. But also, yes. I chew on the inside of my cheek and hike my backpack further onto my shoulder. “I can use the hours for the teaching program?”

He nods.

“And I’ll get paid?” I clarify.

“Yes.”

Ignoring the nagging voice in the back of my head telling me I’ll regret this, I announce, “Fine. I’ll do it.”

“Perfect.” He pushes himself up from the front of his desk and rounds the side of it, wiggling the mouse connected to his computer. Once the screen lights up, Professor Buchanan adds, “His name is Colt Thorne. I have his information right…” His long fingers click against his keyboard as he scans the computer screen. “Yes. Right here.”

A buzzing in my ears drowns out the numbers as I register the name. Colt Thorne. Logan’s new roommate and friend from high school.

And he needs a tutor?

And I already agreed to tutor him?

This can’t be happening. For so many reasons. But most importantly, because Logan will throw a fit when he finds out. Especially after yesterday morning’s incident.

This is bad.

This is very bad.

I’ve had four encounters with the guy, and each one has left me more confused and on edge than the previous one.

But I could use the money.

And the hours for my degree.

And we’re both adults. It’s not like I haven’t tutored guys in the past.

It’ll be fine.

Totally. Absolutely. Fine.

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