28. Niall
CHAPTER 28
NIALL
Stats was going to be the death of me.
I stared at the numbers on the page, my vision blurring. Nothing was sticking. The formulas, the concepts, the logic—none of it made sense. My brain was like a wall that Stats kept bouncing off, refusing to settle. And the worst part? Eli had been nothing but patient with me. For days now, he’d sat beside me, explaining things, re-explaining them, breaking them down into the simplest terms. Yet here I was, still stuck, still failing to grasp it.
A hot rush of frustration burned through me. I wasn’t used to feeling this fucking helpless. On the ice, things clicked. I knew my body, my movements, the game. I could read plays, anticipate actions, and control the puck. But this? This made me feel small. Dense. And the last thing I wanted was for Eli to think that, too.
I ran a hand over my face, exhaling sharply. “I don’t get it,” I muttered. “I just—fuck, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Eli, sitting cross-legged on the bed beside me, tilted his head, watching me closely. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”
I scoffed. “Then why can’t I figure this shit out?”
He reached over, squeezing my arm. “Because your brain is tired. You’re overthinking. Stats is all about patterns, logic—you already do that in hockey. You just don’t realize it.”
I clenched my jaw, staring at the worksheet, willing my brain to cooperate. My stomach twisted. What if I was just stupid? What if Eli looked at me and thought I wasn’t worth the effort? What if he realized I wasn’t as put together as I wanted to seem?
Eli shifted closer, his fingers brushing my wrist. “Okay,” he murmured. “Time for a new approach.”
I turned to him, wary. “What do you mean?”
He grinned, mischief flickering in his eyes. “Positive reinforcement.”
My brow furrowed. “What?—”
Eli leaned in, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to the corner of my mouth. My breath hitched.
“Every time you get something right,” he murmured against my skin, “you get a reward.”
My pulse thumped hard. “A reward?”
He hummed, trailing his lips down my jaw, nipping lightly at my throat. “Mmhmm.”
Fuck.
I swallowed hard, heat creeping up my neck. “And if I get something wrong?”
Eli pulled back, smirking. “Then we keep trying until you get it right.”
It was the most Eli thing ever: turning Stats into something playful, something that made my chest feel light instead of weighed down. But there was an edge to it too, a challenge. A promise.
I exhaled slowly. “Okay.”
Eli tapped the textbook, leaning in just enough to make my pulse stutter. “Okay, let’s try this. The mean score on a Stats exam was 75, standard deviation of 8. What’s the z-score for someone who got an 89?”
I stared at the numbers, and my brain immediately threw up a wall. I knew this. Or I should’ve known this. Eli had gone over it yesterday. And the day before.
I rubbed a hand over my jaw. “Shit. I—I don’t know.”
Eli hummed, fingers skimming along my forearm, a barely there touch that sent heat curling down my spine. “Think about it. We went over z-scores already.”
I did think about it. Hard. But my brain wasn’t cooperating. The pressure in my chest tightened, frustration simmering. “What if I just don’t get it?” My voice came out gruff, almost bitter. “What if I’m just?—”
Eli cut me off with a firm kiss, short and sweet, leaving me blinking at him.
“You’re not stupid,” he said, voice gentle but certain. “Now, focus. What’s the formula?”
I exhaled. Z-score is… something about distance from the mean?
Eli tilted his head, watching me like he could see the gears struggling to turn. “It’s just the difference between the score and the mean, divided by the standard deviation.”
My pulse pounded in my ears, but I pushed through the mental fog. “So… 89 minus 75 is… 14. And then… divide by 8?”
Eli didn’t answer right away. Instead, his lips ghosted over my throat, trailing lower, pressing an open-mouthed kiss just above my collarbone.
My breath stuttered. “Holy?—”
His smile was all mischief. “Come on, Niall. What’s the answer?”
I swallowed hard, my body at war with my brain. “Fourteen divided by eight is… one point seven five.”
Eli’s grin widened, and before I could prepare myself, his mouth was on mine again—deeper this time, hotter—his hands sliding under my hoodie, teasing over my skin.
My brain officially short-circuited. Stats? What the hell was Stats?
“Next one,” he murmured, flipping the page of the worksheet. “What’s the expected value formula?”
Fuck. I knew this. I knew this. My brain scrambled, piecing together what Eli had gone over with me before. “Isn’t it… the sum of probabilities divided by all possible values?”
Eli tilts his head. “Close, but think about what we did last time. You multiply, not divide.”
“Oh. Right. Sum of all values, each multiplied by its probability?”
Eli made a pleased sound. “See? You’re getting it.”
His hands slid under my hoodie, pushing it up just enough to press a kiss to my ribs. My breath stuttered. This was unfair. Utterly, ridiculously unfair.
Eli sat back, grinning. “Ready for another?”
I groaned. “You’re a menace.”
He just wiggled his brows. “But you’re learning, aren’t you?”
That was debatable. My brain was rapidly prioritizing things that had nothing to do with statistics. But when he tapped the next problem, I forced myself to focus, knowing what was at stake.
I got the next one right. And the next. And each time, Eli rewarded me, his kisses wandering lower, his hands becoming bolder, until the line between studying and something far more heated blurred entirely.
By the time I answered a particularly tricky problem correctly, Eli had me flat on my back, breathless and wrecked. His mouth trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down my chest, each press of his lips branding me, making my skin tingle in their wake. His fingers toyed with the waistband of my sweats, teasing, promising.
My muscles tensed, a coil of anticipation twisting tighter with every second. My heartbeat pounded in my ears. Every nerve in my body was alive, aware of Eli—his touch, his warmth, the way he was looking at me like he wanted to feast on me.
“Eli—” My voice was rough, barely more than a rasp.
He hummed, the sound vibrating against my skin as he hooked his fingers into my waistband, tugging them down with agonizing slowness. “You earned this, Niall,” he murmured, voice like silk, full of something dark and delicious.
A shudder rolled through me. I barely had time to process the words before his mouth was on me—warm, wet, and perfect.
My body jerked, pleasure hitting me like a live wire, hot and immediate. A guttural sound ripped from my throat, something I couldn’t hold back even if I wanted to. My hands flew to his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as my brain short-circuited from the sheer sensation.
“Fuck—Eli—” My voice broke, barely coherent.
He made a pleased sound, and the vibration sent another sharp jolt of pleasure straight through me. His tongue, his mouth—God. He moved with devastating precision, like he already knew exactly what would drive me insane, like he’d mapped me out before I’d even realized I could be touched like this.
“You’re so good for me,” he murmured, pausing just long enough to press a kiss to the inside of my thigh. “Took you a few tries to get that one right, but see? You got there.”
I barely heard him, my mind too fogged, my body too consumed with pure sensation.
And then he swallowed me down again, deeper, and I nearly lost it.
My thighs trembled, my abs tightening as heat curled low in my belly. Every drag of his lips, every flick of his tongue sent lightning through me. I was coming undone, a mess of gasps and moans, of broken syllables that barely formed his name. He owned me in this moment, and fuck, I didn’t even care.
Eli’s hands gripped my hips, holding me down even as I instinctively bucked up, chasing more, chasing everything he was giving me. I was so close, the pleasure overwhelming, pushing me toward the edge so fast it was almost too much.
“Let go,” Eli whispered, voice dark, wrecked. “I got you, Niall. Just let go.”
And I did.
I shattered, pleasure crashing over me in waves so intense my vision blurred, stars exploding behind my eyelids. A sharp cry ripped from my throat as Eli didn’t stop, didn’t pull away, just stayed there, taking everything I gave him, drinking me down like he couldn’t get enough.
When the last tremors finally faded, I slumped back against the bed, completely wrecked. My chest heaved, my skin burning, my body boneless. I felt Eli’s mouth on my hip, pressing a soft, almost reverent kiss there before he finally crawled back up beside me, his face smug with satisfaction.
“Best tutoring session ever?” he asked, voice infuriatingly smug.
I let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh, dragging a hand over my face. “You’re gonna kill me.”
He grinned, lazy and pleased, draping an arm over my chest. “Nah. I need you alive for the final.”
I groaned, burying my face against his shoulder. “You’re ridiculous.”
“But you love it,” he teased, his lips brushing against my temple.
I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. Because yeah. I really, really did.