Chapter Four #2
“Like you even know what a cognitive experiment entails,” I mutter bitterly to myself as I look back at the syllabus.
He’s not wrong, though I would never admit that out loud. There’s no way one person could do this assignment. It’s designed to prevent anyone from even attempting.
“I know it may come as a shock to you, but I’m not the stupid jock you think I am. I’m on an athletic scholarship, same as you,” he says after a brief moment of silence stretches between us.
“Being on an athletic scholarship doesn’t mean you aren’t a stupid jock.” I meet his gaze. “It just means you’re capable of doing the bare minimum to maintain it. Good for you.”
“For your information, I have a 4.0 GPA and have been on the dean’s list every semester since freshman year.”
I hide my surprise with a roll of my eyes.
“Yeah, I’ll believe that when I see it.” I snort.
“You don’t know me nearly as well as you seem to think you do.” If I didn’t know better, I’d say that was hurt flaring behind his eyes before it was quickly masked with irritation.
Interesting...
“Funny... I could say the same thing to you.”
“I’m not the one spewing insults, now, am I?”
The fucker has the audacity to smile at me.
“No, you’re just the one who treats women like objects. I know this might come as a shock to you, but our sole purpose on this earth is not to be used for something as fleeting as your own selfish pleasure.”
“You speak as if I were the only one who found pleasure.” He runs his tongue over his bottom lip and my eyes track the movement before I realize my mistake.
“Is that what you think I found?” I bark out a laugh. “For someone who goes through women the way you do, you’d think you’d be well-versed on when a woman is actually finding pleasure and when she’s faking it.” I smile, though there’s nothing friendly about it.
“Women who are faking it don’t come back for more.” He gives me a knowing smile and it’s everything I can do not to slap it off his face.
“A momentary lapse in judgment. Don’t worry, it won’t happen again.”
“Pity. Here I was hoping we could make this assignment a little more interesting.”
“In your dreams.” I grit my teeth.
“I’ll take you any way I can get you.” His lips part, a full-blown smile spreading across his mouth.
I suck in a hard breath at the sight.
I may hate him, but it doesn’t mean I’m blind.
Macallan Stewart is gorgeous. There is no disputing that. But for as good-looking as he is on the surface, beneath it is a different story entirely.
“You’re disgusting,” I spout.
“And you’re beautiful,” he counters, those teal eyes seeming to twinkle beneath thick, luscious lashes.
“Flattery will not win you my favor,” I state flatly.
“Doesn’t make it any less true.”
“Can we just get back to figuring out this assignment?”
“By all means.” He gestures to the open computer still sitting on my lap.
“Okay.” I blow out a slow breath, turning my focus to the syllabus. “So, it looks like cognitive tests comprise the first part of the assignment. There’s a list of options and we have to choose at least three different ones to perform.”
“Well, don’t keep me in suspense.” He points to the screen. “What are they?”
“You know, you could read over it on your own laptop,” I say, looking at his bag, which he makes no effort to retrieve from where he dropped it.
“Or not,” I mutter with a shake of my head.
“Memory tests. Attention and concentration tests. Problem-solving and reasoning. Language and verbal fluency. Processing speed tests. And lastly, spatial and visual reasoning tests.” I read off the list. “There are also examples on how to perform the different types.”
“So we have to pick three?”
“For this particular part, yes. But there are also several other things we have to cover and a whole slew of other tests we have to run for each one of those as well.”
He leans in so close that I catch a whiff of his scent, sandalwood and citrus. I try to ignore how the smell seems to encompass me, settling over my skin like the fresh kiss of morning dew.
“I vote memory, verbal fluency, and problem-solving,” he says, reading the list directly from my computer.
I open my mouth to disagree, wanting to argue for the sake of arguing, but then snap it shut, realizing those were the three I would have picked as well. Especially given that Macallan will be the one conducting the tests on me.
“Fine,” I bitterly agree. “This section is due next Friday, so we need to set aside at least a couple of hours to have time to complete it.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem. Our team schedules are pretty similar, so we should be able to figure something out.”
“How do you know that?” It’s my turn to lift a brow.
“Because I’m an athlete.”
“And?”
“And I enjoy watching other sports as much as I enjoy playing my own. Not to mention, we typically use the same gym and the schedules are posted in the locker room. Your team usually follows directly after us, except on Tuesdays, when your team gets the early slot. Practice schedules are identical for the most part, with the exception of the next couple of weeks while they finish working on your field.”
“Hmph.” The noise slides up my throat.
“It’s okay. You can be impressed.” He grins.
“I am impressed.” I narrow my gaze on his. “Impressed that you can read,” I quickly add.
He laughs at that. Like full-on, tips his head back and laughs, his entire body shaking with the action as the sound carries over the various voices filling the room.
I am momentarily transfixed by the sight. I can’t say I’ve ever seen him laugh so openly, the smile on his face so beautiful it almost hurts to behold it.
“Something funny, Mr. Stewart?”
My attention snaps to the front of the class where Professor Langdon is sitting behind his desk, looking up at Macallan over his glasses, which have slid about halfway down the bridge of his nose.
“Apologies, Professor.” Laughter still vibrates his words.
“Perhaps less messing around and more working?” Professor Langdon suggests.
Macallan simply nods, waiting until our professor’s attention returns to his own computer before speaking again.
“Your place or mine?” he asks, his smile reappearing at the way my eyes widen at his question. “For the assignment, Mais.” He shakes his head. “Such a dirty mind.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” I sneer. “And how about we meet at the library?” I suggest, knowing there’s not a chance in hell I’m going to take this man to my room and I sure as heck am not going to his.
“Library is too quiet and we need a place we can openly discuss the material.” He disagrees with a slight shake of his head, causing his dark hair to fall across his forehead.
I have to resist the urge to reach out and push the strand away, silently cursing myself for even thinking it.
“We could meet in the Rotunda.”
“Too many people.”
“What do you suggest then? Other than your room, which isn’t happening, so don’t suggest it again.”
“Scared to be alone with me?”
“Why would that scare me?”
“Maybe you’re afraid you’ll be tempted to repeat what happened the last time you were there.” He gives me a knowing look, which makes my skin flush, despite the disgust I hold onto with a vise grip.
“You wish.”
“Perhaps I do.”
I shake off his attempt to rile me.
“What about the football stadium? We could sit up in the stands.”
“If the weather allows it, that could work.” He agrees with a stiff nod.
“Well, if it doesn’t, we’ll have to make either the library or the Rotunda work. Dorm rooms are not an option,” I reiterate, just to make sure he doesn’t try to suggest it again.
“You’re not nearly as fun as I remember.” He crosses his arms over his broad, muscular chest.
“Good. Because this isn’t supposed to be fun.” I turn back to my laptop and pull up my schedule.
We spend the remainder of class figuring out times that work best and devising a workable plan for each assigned task.
All the while, Mac sits way too close. So close, in fact, that I can feel the warmth of his breath on the side of my neck as I type an outline into a document.
It’s as irritating as it is distracting, and more than once I have to tell him to move over.
When Professor Langdon dismisses the class nearly thirty minutes later, I’m so eager to escape that I gather my belongings and practically sprint for the door without so much as a backward glance at Macallan.
Of course, that doesn’t stop him from jogging after me, catching up to me just seconds after I push my way out the double doors and step out into the warm afternoon air.
“Why are you following me?” I demand, stopping so abruptly that he walks a couple of steps ahead of me before he realizes I’ve stopped.
“I’m not following you. We’re headed in the same direction.”
“Uh-huh.” I roll my eyes, clutching my laptop to my chest like some kind of shield that will protect me from his nearness.
“Look. I get that you have a problem with me...”
“I think that’s putting it mildly, but sure, let’s go with that.”
“Clearly, I did something to piss you off...”
“You think?” I interrupt, letting my anger take the forefront of all other emotions.
“I guess I just didn’t realize how affected by it you still were.”
“Affected by it?” I bark out a laugh. “I’m not affected by you in the least. I simply don’t like you.”
“Keep telling yourself that.” That cocky smirk returns and I feel desperate to wipe it off his face anyway that I can.
“Go fuck yourself, Mac.” I let out an exasperated sigh.
“Such language.” He tsks.
“Piss off,” I add for good measure.
“Look, I’m trying to make peace here.”
“Maybe I don’t want peace. Maybe what I want is for you to leave me alone. Like forever.”
“Well, fate has other plans.”
“Only because you just had to sit next to me. If you had left me alone, if you had sat on the other side of the room like you normally do, we wouldn’t be stuck in this mess to begin with.”
“Wrong. I sat next to you because I knew you were going to be my partner. Professor Langdon had the assignments already drawn up and sitting on his desk for anyone to see. So no, we aren’t partnered together because I sat next to you.
I sat next to you to save myself from having to move after he announced it. ”
I guess that explains the why, though it does little to soothe my irritation.
“Yeah, okay.” I bristle.
He takes a step closer, his frame so large his body casts a shadow over mine.
“Let’s make one thing clear. I don’t give a shit if you don’t like me.
You want to hold a grudge over nothing, be my guest. But I hope you can at least be mature enough to be civil while we work on this assignment,” he quickly continues before I can spew the slew of curses dancing on my tongue.
“It was just sex, Mais. I know I’m good, but I think maybe it’s time you let it go. ”
I step up, getting right in his face or, well, as close to his face as I can, given our height difference.
“You are so full of yourself.” I poke a finger into his chest, ignoring how rock-hard the muscle beneath is.
“You think I give two shits about what happened two fucking years ago? My hatred of you has nothing to do with the sex and everything to do with what a sorry excuse for a man you are. Now, if you don’t mind, I have somewhere to be.
” I shove past him, knocking my shoulder into his, which jostles me more than it does him.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Mais.”
I flip him off.
His taunting laughter seems to follow me all the way back to my dorm.