Page 8 of Shiver
Library at seven tomorrow. Bring a detailed schedule of your commitments. Don’t be late.
I don’t receive a response right away, so I toss my phone aside and concentrate on devouring my burrito. At least it’s full of protein and vegetables. It’s also bland as fuck.
When finished and I wash my hands, I drop onto the couch and flick on the television. It opens to Sports Spot and I’m watching recaps of NHL, NFL, and soccer. What’s not to like about sports? The guys are always wearing tight pants that show off the shape of their supple asses. I shift on the couch and rub my semi.
Yep, been far too long if watching guys on television is turning me on.
* * *
I glanceat Egon’s return message from last night again. My lips twitch at the ‘sir.’ Maybe he’ll be fun after all.
Hockey practice ended an hour ago. I told him seven to let him have time to eat and to see if he’d already be here or if he’d show up just for our meeting. I’m curious how dedicated to this he really is. However, the library is three stories with many nooks, alcoves, and study rooms, not to mention the tables and chair clusters littered throughout the space.
I’ve never seen Egon up close when off the ice. Which means I’ve never gotten a good look at him without a helmet on. But a hockey player is a hockey player. I figure it will be easy enough to spot him.
And it is. I find him at the back of the second floor, sitting at a table. By the looks of the spread of books before him, he’s been there for a while. His elbows are on the table, his head in his hands. His hands fisted in his hair. I can’t see his face but if I had to guess by the tension in his posture, studying isn’t going well.
Egon is a defenseman. So, he’s a big guy. Even slumped over, there is no mistaking the bulk of his body. The pull of the tight shirt over his shoulders only emphasizes it. His hair is short, his face clean with a hint of shadow around his chin. But to see any more detail, I’d have to call his attention to me.
Instead, I remain in the aisle slightly behind him and lean against the edge of the bookshelf to observe. He hasn’t moved since I stopped, so I wait to see if he’s taking a nap or actually trying to learn something.
Nearly as soon as the thought crosses my mind, Egon sighs in frustration. He turns the page back. Then another. Pushing the book up the table, he slides a notebook closer. With a pen hovering over the half-filled sheet, he looks back at the book and stills again.
Okay, the struggle is real. In whatever subject he has in front of him, anyway. We’re only three weeks into the fall semester, so this doesn’t look like a short tutor job, if that’s the case.
Shifting my messenger bag, I push from the bookshelf and round his table. Egon is so focused on his book that he doesn’t see me for half a minute. Then his head snaps up and I’m met with gray eyes. Seriously. They’re the rarest of eye color, and here they are in front of me. The first and only person I’ve ever seen with them.
And they’re stunning.
Egon’s eyes are wide as he stares at me. For the first few seconds, his gaze is locked on mine. Then they rake over my face before taking a cursory look at the rest of me.
“Mr. Aahnu?” he asks.
I nod, pleased that he at least pronounces it correctly. It isn’t that difficult, but the many ways I’ve heard it butchered never fail to make me scowl. “Schedule,” I say.
Egon blinks at me as if he hasn’t heard me. Then he looks to the table and shuffles books out of the way until he pulls a sheet of paper from the pile. He gives it a once over before handing it to me.
I nod in approval. Especially since he followed instructions, having created a detailed schedule with all commitments, including when he goes to the gym, when he eats, and when he studies. Already, I see a glaring problem.
“You’ve only allowed yourself minimal time to study. It’s not a surprise you’re failing.”
He winces and hangs his head. “I know. I feel like I’m stuck in a catch-22. I’m on a hockey scholarship, so I need to make sure my game is at peak to keep it. That means extra practice and conditioning. But I need to also keep my grades up,” he pauses, causing my eyes to lift over the top of the paper to study his face. They drop to where his teeth hold his lip. My dick twitches in interest. “I managed it easier last year,” he mutters.
The problem with his full schedule is that mine is equally full. Frowning, I pull out my phone to compare the two. I hate adjusting my schedule to align with anyone else’s. I have a comfortable routine and disrupting it really pisses me off.
“We’re going to have to adjust your schedule,” I say. “As it is, the only free time you have is when you sleep. Which happens to be when I sleep as well. And I’m not cutting into my sleep for you.”
“No! Of course not,” he says quickly.
“What subjects do you need help in?” I ask, thinking I can tweak my Thursdays to fit in an hour.
“All of them?” he says sheepishly. Frowning, I look at him again. He winces when I meet his eyes and his shoulders slump. He drops his gaze. “I swear, I’m not stupid,” he mutters.
“That’s what Adak says too.”
Some of the tension in his shoulders releases. His broad chest rises as he inhales slowly, deeply. When he blows it out, his cheeks puff. Again, my cock twitches. Those sexy lips would look real good around my dick.
“The blocks in red are mandatory,” he says. “I’ll modify anything else. Please, sir.”
