Study Games (Rippton U Creatives #1)

1. Waverly

1

WAVERLY

T iny wings buzzed frantically as the bee completed its infinite circuit around the tight bud, and finally settled on a bloom nearby. The pale yellow petal dipped under its weight, swaying as the worker collected its burden and flitted to the next flower. I traced its invisible path with my fingertip, letting it continue on its daily duties while I observed and scratched as many notes as I could through its flight of fancy.

Supercharged midday sun heated the back of my exposed neck, and I wished that I’d put on more sunscreen before I left my shared dorm room.

Just a few more minutes .

Minutes of peace I’d have to give up the moment I closed the hive and return to student life.

I’d traced the bee’s passage for the last few weeks, observing the hive until I dreamed of tiny zipping insects and their constantly changing paths in my sleep. Something about the way they moved drew me to them. I couldn't help zoning out to their personal in-flight program, the focus of my second semester at California’s Rippton U, home of the Rippton Hails ice hockey team and offering a bespoke biopsychology major designed for science nerds just like me.

“Of all the places I've gone to pick up a girl, this has to be one of the weirdest.”

A long shadow fell over me, obscuring the bee’s path and my peace. I closed my eyes, willing the insurgent away but when I opened them, his shadow still closed out my sun.

“No one asked you to be here.”

“Actually, you did.” Jaxson Jax Palmer, or so the Indie online art community proclaimed him, huffed a laugh to my back.

My brain reacted to that slight with a silent snarl for breaking into my slice of peaceful pie, but my mentee didn’t give a honey bee’s whit about simple things like screwing with other people’s mindset.

Two can play that game.

Geek I might be–pun intended–but that didn’t make me socially useless, just awkward as all get out. Positioning my pencil between my fingers, I tracked the insect’s path again and again until it became second nature. Which made ignoring the body blocking my light all too easy. Hyper-focus was my jam.

I lowered that same movement to my page, ghosting the precise pattern on my sketch pad in a series of tiny dashes to convey both direction and movement until I immortalized the bee’s life work on my page.

A puff of breath hit the back of my neck, doubling the heat of the afternoon sun and cooling it at once. Unable to process the sensation, gooseflesh and shivers broke out all over my skin, racing along my spine in an uncomfortable roil that broke me out of my reverie.

“I thought you left,” I said grumpily, pretending I hadn’t just managed to forget he was there at all.

Jax didn’t move or back off. Personal space bubble, anyone? “Cute. Shouldn't you actually have the bee in the drawing?”

My concentration shattered to the nth degree, I snapped my drawing pad shut, leaving the rings at the top of the binder zinging. “If someone left me alone long enough to get my work done, maybe the bee would get to make an appearance one day.” I closed my eyes and tried not to let the wave of insta-nausea that swept through my gut during my outburst overwhelm me. “I'm sorry. I'm never rude like that.”

As soon as the apology left my mouth, I regretted it.

Jax half-snorted, needing nothing else to express his extreme disdain. This was Jax . Bad boy extraordinaire, incredibly gifted artist which even this geek girl could see with one eye shut, and the student I was meant to be tutoring who never turned up for our sessions on time.

I apparently wasted his time, and he thus impinged on mine, and my space.

His breath brushed my cheek as he leaned back in. Case in point. I repressed another shiver, unsure if I wanted to screech at him or punch him. Not that I’d ever punched anyone before. Why bother apologizing to someone who hated every moment he sacrificed to be in my company, for crying out loud? We only spent enough time together to get what we needed done, and went our separate ways with gratitude that those scant minutes expired in an appropriate fashion.

Until today.

What the hell was different about today?

I twisted on my little piece of plastic that protected my rear from ending up soaking wet on the biology gardens grass and looked up into the yellowest pair of eyes I'd ever seen.

Lime and black streaks decorated a long fringe that flopped over his eyes in a you can’t be as cool as me cut fresh out of highschool but somehow it hit all the right rockstar/elite artistry vibes to make it edgy enough for college.

Just like him, his smile had a sharp edge to match his brittle sense of humor laced with a heady dose of quick-serve sarcasm I appreciated. I’d learned that over the last few weeks, usually when he aimed that weapon at me.

On the very rare occasion that same self depreciative humor was directed at himself.

It didn't make either of us like each other any better.

“Are you apologizing to me?” Jax tilted his head to one side, the corners of his lips curling in something that might have been a smile, or sneer. Either way the curl at the corners of his mouth only enhanced that bad-boy persona he–for any lack of a better term–literally rocked. Dimples, yesterday’s evening shadow before five o’clock, and hand-drawn eyeliner with ragged edges and all. A touch of ink peeked out from beneath his trademark, calf-length leather jacket. “I didn't think we'd reach this point. You're late.”

Just as I thought I might have broken through with one of those students who were so far out of my league both creative and socially, he said something that snapped me back to reality.

“I'm late?” I blinked at him and wished my brain would churn a little faster. “How am I late?” I mentally penciled in a lobotomy. Jury was out for who the recipient was at this point. One of us for sure.

Jax eased his lithe frame a little closer, the scent of smoke and leather pluming from the folds of his long leather jacket and boots and waved his designer watch that matched perfectly to his razored hair that hung in my face. “Half an hour ago. Bar? Mentoring? Ring any bells?”

“Tutoring,” I automatically corrected him, staring at the luridly colored watch hands that told an undeniable truth. I’d gotten carried away with my own studies. “Fuck, I'm so sorry.” The curse slipped out but I carried on cussing to myself inside the private space of my brain where he couldn’t hear me.

I pressed my lips together, annoyed at myself for not displaying more control. If I gave Jax any sign of weakness, he was guaranteed to use it to spank my ass pink. The obnoxious thought worked its way into my mind and stayed there, marinating while the rest of me flushed as pink as the image in my mind.

“She keeps apologizing. I'm not even sure why.” He watched me with slitted eyes even though he was the one with his back to the sun. “But swearing is sexy on you, hive girl.”

I waved away his incessant, meaningless flirting. “Because I'm supposed to be the responsible one, and I’m meant to be upping your grades.”

“There's nothing wrong with my grades.” Jax arched a manicured eyebrow decorated with a lime green pointed stud and a scar, his particular brand of familiar arrogance blaring my way.

If I didn't know better, I would’ve said he was on the defense.

But Jax Palmer had nothing to be scared of from little old me. Nor did he have the right to tell me anything about myself. As usual my hackles rose and I bit out the first pathetic come back that tumbled from my lips like I’d been confronted by my grade school bully.

Only my seventh grade bully hadn’t worn leather or smelled of smoke and whiskey. Or had an evening shadow my palms itched to discover, or see if his skin was as soft as I hoped.

What in all the honey hells is wrong with me?

“You don't know the first thing about me, Jaxson Palmer.” I pushed up to standing, ignoring my screaming muscles, bunched from crouching too long.

I managed to twist my feet around and backed up right into a wall of muscle and heat that left a ripple running over my skin long after I jumped away from him.

“Why are you getting up? Here's a perfectly good place to study.” He laughed at me, though his slitted eyes never changed or shuttered, holding me in their thrall the entire time he studied me.

My stomach knotted as I wracked my blank brain. “I thought you preferred the bar.”

“I do. But… It's peaceful here. Quiet.”

“I can think here.” Another automatic response that slipped out without my permission. Dammit. I really had to get a handle on that foot and mouth thing. “Okay. Where would you like to start?”

Jax stepped forward, invading the space that was all too open and far too close all at once. “Oh, I know where I'd like to start,” he purred, though amusement lit his golden eyes as he teased me.

“What are you, six?” I shook my head and held out a hand palm extended like a stop sign. “We’re meant to be preparing for careers and a life that will follow us for the next decade and beyond. I don't have time to waste on flirting or– or–”

Jax closed the distance between us until his warmth eradicated the cool afternoon air where the sun didn’t reach, and my brain ceased to function altogether.

His knuckles brushed my cheek, grazing over my jawline as he slid the crook of his knuckle along my throat to tilt my chin up. My body froze along with my brain as I stared up at him, trying to ignore the way my body flushed and tingled at his proximity.

This wasn't what I was here for, and I had enough trouble already without getting involved with the college’s bad boy in my second semester.

“Do you think I'm flirting with you?" He dipped his head lowered, stealing the oxygen in the sliver of space between our skin until I swore he was going to kiss me.

“Fuck me,” I whispered, totally out of my depth and out of control in a second.

My eyes tried to close on their own, drifting shut as my head tipped back to meet his in an automated sequence I had zero control over, but I managed to keep them open. I sucked in a breath to say something-hopefully witty, but with my mind, who knew what that would actually be–but he beat me to it.

Jax tapped my nose with his pointer finger and stepped back, his eyes gleaming with an uncontested victory. “Who knew those bookish little turtlenecks were covering something so filthy mouthed?”

I pursed my lips rather than letting anything else slip out, stopping short of gulping in desperately needed air. “You think I should dress differently?” I frowned. This conversation and session wasn't going anywhere it should be. I need to get it back on track to start.

“Is that all you got out of what I said?” He laughed at me again, his eyes shifting this time with real humor, taking another step back. Jax sank onto the grass, probably half soaking himself in the damp blades. “Style wise? You’re a geek. I get it. Science nerd and all that jazz. It’s cool. But, you know.” He gestured at my thick black tights and my below the knee length blown skirt and matching brown and orange turtleneck. “You do dress like Thelma.”

“I'm surprised you know what Scooby Doo is.” I frowned at him, my mind whirling. “Let me guess. You think you're Freddie Jones.”

"The preppie school kid cradling his V-card because Daphne won’t put out? Hell, no. I’m Shaggy."

I snorted. “You want to be a guy called Norville?”

He shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest in a self-conscious maneuver that would have been positively charming—if he hadn’t also claimed the asshole factor to go along with it. “I don't need to pretend to know how to act, bee girl. I know exactly who I am and what I want out of the world.”

“See, that's the difference between us.” I folded my arms and mimicked his posture. “I'm waiting for a world that knows what it wants out of me.”

“That's an ass-about way to view life." Jax tilted his head, throwing his face half into the shade. All sharp angles and straight lines leading to pale, arched lips. With his black hair and thick lashes, he could've had a touch of Korean heritage.

Not that I would ever know; this was the only sort of meaningful conversation Jax and I’d ever had. If I manage to shut him out or myself without my mouth running on, we might actually get a few minutes of study. Him, that was. Not for me.

Plus, I had assignments waiting in my room, and my bees had buzzed off into the hive for the night. The sun dipped on the horizon, the peaks behind Rippton U as the evening sky flared with a plethora of color.

I closed my eyes. Perfect. I wanted to spit out more curses, but my heart was all too aware of Jax watching me. He’s already called me filthy…and that brought totally different connotations to mind.

Like him with his shirt open, leaning in to brush his lips over mine… I squeaked and slapped a hand over my mouth. He was right there while I fantasized about him. What was wrong with me?

Career. Homework. Assignments.

Being bullied by males far too good looking for my own good.

Damnit. I wanted to cover my face with my hands and wail into the flower bed.

Parting my fingers, I peeked through them. Jax gave me a wide grin and a little wave. He was enjoying this.

Asshat.

Fine. Tutoring. Bees. Assignments.

Sleep, rinse, repeat.

I could do this. My study hours were fast running short, and all I wanted was to study my goddam bees. Was that too much to ask? No. Brain, please focus. Not on the steamy hot artist we can’t have. Please and thank you, Waverly.

“All right. Let's get this thing going.” I breathed out and made the descent back to my situpon piece of orange plastic that matched my turtleneck, and folded my legs beneath me. My bag toppled sideways a few paces away and I lunged for it to extract textbooks. “Where were we up to?” I flicked through the pages, finding the chapter, but I couldn't for the life of me remember where I’d left off last.

Nor did I ask again, knowing I would just end up reacting to his teasing, or the latest round of his personal brand of bullying. At least it was more civilized and tasteful than others. Even flirtatious, like before. Jax was the ultimate destruction, and my time was already so short.

Or maybe that was destruction, which was somehow worse.

I had so much to do and reacting to his teasing–not flirting, clearly, because Jax wouldn't flirt with the likes of my unflirtworthy peach–more than I already had wasn't on the cards at all. I glanced at my watch where it had slipped to the inside of my wrist. Nothing snazzy like his Swiss fancy-nancy timepiece.

My next lab wasn’t until seven…which meant I had a few hours, technically, to spend helping him. Plus, the pittance I got paid by the college for tutoring made up for it in some small way.

At least my roomie, Celia, and I would end up eating a bit better this week rather than noodles and toast, and I’d have something I could actually rant about while she gossed me up on social life around the college–the sort others had at the most elite private university in the US where most student’s private bank account balances rivaled the GDP of not so small nations.

Except for the small handful of not so wealthy scholarship students who go by without all the usual extras for a chance at networking and a degree heralded by Ripton’s crest that could open doors as fast as an Ivy League college.

In some circles, faster.

Jax, however, wasn’t to be deterred by my little side serve of distraction.

“I'll start anywhere,” he breathed. Leaning forward he braced on his forearms in the dewy grass that hadn’t dried from last night.

I squinted at him through my lashes, unable to pull my attention away, despite his obvious show ponying. Any other time he might have been laughable. But in person.... A glint of something dark lit his strange yellow that was absolutely undecipherable.

A glint of passion that went into everything he obsessed over, like his art. Passionate, creative and a touch dangerous.

I just couldn't decide if he wanted to flirt with me or ruin me. Chances were that either way boded really bad things when his attention locked right on me and refused to budge.