Teresa Reynova
The AC kicked on overhead. I shivered. But that wasn’t why my hands shook.
Guilt ate at me as I stared down at the papers in my hand.
The answers were all there. Every. Single.
One. Everything could be fixed if I just…
cheated? I winced inwardly as I glanced over my shoulder.
I couldn’t see her. The windowless room I was in wouldn’t let me, but I could picture her at the table where I’d seen her.
My best friend tutoring her pink-haired friend.
Too captivated and busy with her to notice I’d stolen her keys a little earlier.
Borrowed, I tried to excuse. Keys that gave me access to shit I had no business having.
Access to answers for midterms and tests I shouldn’t want but really freaking needed.
It was bad enough that my biology professor hated me; he graded my stuff with a fine-tooth comb for having turned down his advances.
I shut my eyes and tried not to think about the way he’d cornered me in his office.
I’d gone to ask a question about a lab. It had been so innocent and naively stupid of me.
I blamed the hot summer heat. I’d rushed to his office late at night after a soccer practice hoping to get just five minutes of his time.
Professor Nick Gage had smiled charmingly and told me he had some extra time. He had been charismatic.
Kind.
Nice.
Genuinely funny as he told me old stories about his own college athlete days.
Once upon a time, he himself had been a division-one baseball player.
A great one, according to him. He’d thrived going on and on, talking about how he almost made it pros, trying to come off as helpful and someone I could talk to.
That was until he started to get too close.
But his charming, easy smile had lulled me into thinking I was safe.
Too wrapped up in his easy smile and nature, I didn’t really pay attention to the way he slowly moved around his office.
The way his gaze lingered a little too long down at my mouth or chest. First from his desk chair to sit on top of his desk in front of me and start to use any excuse to reach out and touch me.
The reminder of that late night in his office made my stomach churn.
If it hadn’t been for his TA, who had showed up to drop some papers off, I wasn’t sure what I would have done other than kick him in the balls like my dad had taught me at thirteen.
My lips quirked up thinking about my dad and how proud he would have been if I’d done that.
A man, a real one, sabe que no es no, Tere.
Too bad the professor didn’t seem to understand that no was a complete sentence.
My hands shook at the memory. Regardless of what happened, of how Professor Dick, I mean Nick, tried to put his hands on me, I couldn’t do this.
I couldn’t cheat.
I wasn’t that girl.
No matter how hard stuff had been in the past, I always pulled my big girl pants on and studied every spare minute I had between practices, games, and travel time.
I could figure it out. The world wouldn’t end if I scored below an A for the first time in my life.
My mom’s words drifted into my head. She was right.
Logically, I knew this.
But I was the problem. I was an over-achieving perfectionist. I’d had straight As my entire school career. I had been my high school’s valedictorian and ranked as a possible number one if I kept it up in college. I could do this.
I would do this without cheating.
Just as I was about to turn to put the paper back, I felt a hand on my waist. A wall of body heat hit my back, and my body went completely still. My knees locked and my heart felt like it was about to jump out of my ribcage.
“What do we have here?” a deep, all-too familiar voice sounded. Full lips I couldn’t see but could feel brushed against the sensitive shell of my ear, and my body went into a full-body tremble. Goose bumps activated and my toes curled inside my shoes.
“What do you want?” I asked, trying to keep my composure calm, cool, and collected even though I had been caught red handed.
“Well… that’s a loaded question for another day.
” I could hear the smile in his voice, and I hated the way my body reacted to him.
Everything tightened and went all warm and gooey from the inside out around this guy.
I hated it! “What’s this?” he asked, skimming the pad of his thumb against my own that held the papers in my hand.
“Nothing.” I swallowed.
“Really? Because it looks like my favorite little soccer player is doing something she really shouldn’t,” he taunted, his voice steady and confident.
I made the second mistake of the day, the first coming into this room in the first place, and turned.
Meeting his beautiful blue gaze weakened my knees, and it had nothing to do with the way I’d hurt it my freshman year.
Shit. Jeremy Fletcher was masculine beauty defined.
The man could easily be put on the cover of any fitness magazine thanks to a lifetime of rigorous workouts and playing sports.
If that wasn’t enough, he had a beautiful face.
High cheekbones, square jaw that was clean cut in the morning and stubbly once the sun had set.
A great smile with straight white teeth that made you wonder if he’d had braces as a kid or god had seriously blessed him with natural good looks.
And then there were his dimples. Two that popped out at either side, only adding to this boyish charm that seemed to wrap around him.
“I didn’t look at it,” I admitted. “I just… can we forget you ever saw me in here?” I asked cooly.
“Hmm.” His head tilted. “I mean… I could try and do that.”
“Try?” I wasn’t stupid. I could see the wheels turning behind his stupidly beautiful eyes.
“But…” He let that word hang between us for a second, and I forced myself not to roll my eyes. Out of all the people who could have caught me almost doing this, it had to be him!
Was my luck that bad? I wasn’t sure what it was about the guy that drew me in and pushed me away all at the same time.
“But what?” I finally asked, breaking the silence.
“What would I get out of it?”
“Excuse me?” My nipples shamelessly tightened harder against the Lycra material of my bright green sports bra.
“I mean… if someone were to find out about you being in here, who would believe you?” I challenged defensively. “No offense, it seriously falls into a he said, she said situation.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But imagine the rumors? The suspicions? How it would look? The well-rounded soccer player with perfect grades might have gotten those grades thanks to her roommate?”
“She didn’t have anything to do with—“
“Not only that,” he eerily added before stepping away, and I hated how much I missed his body so close to mine.
Jeremy took the papers from my hands and opened the cabinet, carefully putting them away before locking them back up and handing me the keys. “But the camera recording you taking them out in the first place would show who was telling the truth.”
“Camera? I asked, looking around. He was full of shit! He had to be. Shit, why hadn’t I thought about the possibility of a camera?
“Camera.” He winked, taking a couple of steps back and grabbing his cell phone, lifting it to show me before his attention moved to the screen.
“You recorded me?” He shrugged, not bothering to look at me. My eye twitched. Este hijo de la gran— “Why would you—“
“Because I can,” he answered easily. Too easily. Heat hit my face.
This was the reason I didn’t date athletes.
The reminder was crystal clear now why I avoided the cocky, arrogant sons of a bitches!
Guys like him, who felt so entitled with their over-pumped egos and being told they were so great by their mommies one too many times while girls fawned over them from the bleachers.
To make matters worse, he was the first one who had slipped through the cracks since my high school basketball boyfriend. I remembered seeing him at some social at the athletics department held, and even I had to admit he was pretty to look at.
I hated how attracted I was to him.
For some reason, when I’d seen him last night, I’d had a moment where I thought he might be different. If he asked me out again, I should give him a chance. Now he was standing in front of me, probably about to blow up my life because he was allergic to rejection.
“What did you tell me the other day? Baseball guys like me always get what we want?” Shit!
Me and my big mouth. A mouth my mom always warned me would get me in trouble.
“You were right about that.” He leaned his ridiculously ripped body against one of the cabinets.
“You think when this goes viral, your high school would think you maybe got the grades you did by cheating?” I swallowed.
Shit. It would look bad.
So much worse than I could have ever thought.
“I didn’t—“ I started to argue, but he tsked.
“Don’t stress, though. I won’t tell anyone your dirty little secret.” He winked. “Biology, huh?” His gaze locked with mine.
My lips thinned. He had no idea about my problem in that class. The way my stomach tied itself in literal knots every time I had to step into the room. The way I wanted to take a hot shower after it, because Professor Nick looked at me like he was undressing me with his eyes.
“Long story,” I mumbled. Not that I would tell him. I hadn’t told anyone what had happened. The only one who knew that something weird had happened was his TA, since I had run out of the office that night.
“I have time.” He shrugged. I narrowed my eyes trying to get a better idea of what the hell Fletcher wanted.
“You’re telling me you have a video of me, but you’re not going to tell?” I asked.
“Nope.”
“Why would you do that?” I knew that one plus one didn’t equal two here.