Page 15 of Gingers Can Do Maths

“How?”

“Because it’s not that you don’t know the rules at all. It’s a confidence thing and a distraction thing. Once we fix those, you’ll be on the right path. I know some methods we can try.”

Unconventional ones I made up.

“We,” she murmurs. “Ha—, sorryRohan, why are you helping me?”

“I’m a tutor,” I lie, walking to my side of the table again before I lean down and taste her lips for real this time, instead of whatever dish she’s put them on. “It’s what I signed up to do. Help people.”

“But now that you know it’s me...and after all the effort you made to cut me out of your life, I’d understand if you want to swap for another Hortace student.”

She said the last part so damn slowly. Like it was painful for her to say. Is it the suggestion of me being one-on-one with another girl that made it hard? Or is that just my wishful, no, delusional thinking?

“The past is in the past is it not? I’m not uncomfortable and you’re certainly not,” I say, my eyes zoning in on her nipples again.

The moment they do she flushes for the first time and she crosses her arms like I haven’t been staring at her for the past two hours.

“Don't you feel like you’ll just waste your time again?”

“My time was never wasted with you. Not from my end anyway. Or what? Do you think three years still isn’t enough for the amount of space you wanted?”

I may want Sin like my last breath but it doesn’t change the fact that she hurt me to my core.

She looks like she wants to say something as a pained look crosses her features but she swallows it and when her expression changes, so do her intended words. “It’s still the first day. It’s not too late to—”

“I’m not swapping,” I say, firmly turning my back to her. “See you next Friday.”

The sound of her chair scraping back is what makes me watch her again.

She’s pulled her soaked long, white sleeve shirt over her head sans bra. Cheaper she leaves it off because I can still see her tits clear as day through the fabric. If anything, the sight is even more alluring.

“I’m not hungry,” she says, and of course she isn’t. It isn’t eleven yet. “You can have those or toss them.” She nods to the croissants that she knows I’ll devour in two bites.

I don’t deserve them. She knows I don’t, but she’s leaving them because she can’t help herself. She wants to take care of me and just the thought that she cares enough about something as mundane as my breakfast makes my cock harder.

Grabbing her purse, she stuffs her belongings back inside, drapes her soggy jacket over her arm and reaches for the doorknob.

BANG!

Her eyes flicker to my hand on the door I’d just slammed shut before crawling my arm and settling on my face.

“What are you—”

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Her expression grows more bewildered by the second.

“Home? Time’s up.”

We both look at the clock.Damn.We’d have to rush for her curfew.

“Like that?” I stare at her breasts stretching the white fabric thin.

“You didn’t have a problem with it.” She licks her lips and I follow the motion. “Neither should they.”

They, meaning the Bradley boys who suddenly have an interest in the library since Hortace’s arrival.

The fringes of my vision grow fuzzy, pure rage roiling in my stomach at the thought of anyone else looking at her. At the thought that she wouldn’t care if they did.

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