Chapter 8 #2
I wasn’t going to go soft for a guy who clearly thought kissing me was a mistake. If there was one thing I could control in this whole mess, it was my actions. Sure, it hurt. It hurt like hell breaking loose in my chest, but I didn’t have to do anything about it.
So when the morning finally came, I continued my weekend like nothing had happened. I spent the morning at the library, took a gym break around noon to go off campus to a gym where nobody knew me, signed up for a membership on a whim, and immediately got spooked by the equipment.
It wasn’t my first time working out, and I’d gone to the campus gym a few times before, but I’d never done any serious, dedicated work, so I decided to approach it as I would any problem.
I defined the goals and the challenges, then spent most of the afternoon testing out different machines until I knew exactly what each one did.
I didn’t know anything about sports, but I knew everything about human anatomy, so I identified groups of muscles affected by each piece of equipment and formed a plan by the end of the day.
The field work cost me a great deal because I dragged myself back to the house with sore muscles and liquid bones.
“Where were you all day?” Rowan asked.
“Gym,” I said.
He blinked, then cocked his head, letting the stunned silence drag. Then he shook his head and smiled to himself. “If you don’t want to tell me, just say so.”
“Ha-ha.” I moved through the kitchen to reach the fridge, then began piling up the ingredients for a protein-rich meal.
“You could have extended an invitation,” Rowan said.
“I didn’t plan on going,” I admitted. “I was at the library, and I realized I was hunching so low I was practically lying on top of the books. I figured it was time to get my shit together.”
Rowan crossed his arms and leaned against the kitchen island. “And it’s got nothing to do with you hanging out with a football jock these days.”
The stab went right into my heart, but I couldn’t blame Rowan. “We’re not…hanging out.”
“No. Of course not. He just comes around for our DnD out of nowhere, plays for three and a half hours, and freaking makes it the best game we played in months, then steals you for an hour outside. But you know, it’s all part of a tutoring scheme.”
I was losing my appetite fast. “Yes, as a matter of fact.”
Rowan flinched at my tone, then a frown creased the space between his eyebrows. “Bennet?”
“What?” It was a sigh, now, as I simmered in the shame of snapping at him.
“I’m just teasing you,” Rowan said.
I bit my lip and busied my fingers with the food on the counter. “I know. Sorry. I’m just a little tense.”
“Yeah, I can see that,” Rowan said. “I have to ask. Is it related to Jason?”
I shrugged. “In a way. Not really. Look, I’d really rather not go into it. I’ll be just fine in a day or two. And I have to meet him for a session at the library in an hour.”
Rowan nodded. “I’ll leave you to it. Let me know if you need help.”
“Thanks,” I said, and I meant it. I didn’t need him to cook my dinner. And I definitely didn’t need him to listen to my problems. They were embarrassing enough for me alone. I wasn’t sharing that burden with anyone if I could help it.
I cooked, I ate, and I packed Jason’s lesson for the evening.
It was only as I walked toward the library that I let myself worry a little.
I knew it would be awkward as hell, but I had to keep it cool.
So long as Jason didn’t try to yap his way through the awkwardness, I might be able to survive this.
But if he started joking and rambling without an end in sight, I might just crack and say some things that were better left unsaid.
As I walked, I grew flustered and frustrated at once. He would joke around until I lost it. And then I would tell him just how crappy of a move that had been, kissing someone when you’re way out of their league, then apologizing and running away.
I set up everything on the usual desk at the library, pretending to be busy and not obsessively looking at the big entrance door on the far end, beyond all the bookshelves.
There was no pretending otherwise; I was nervous. I was nervous about seeing him in the flesh after last night. I was worried I would be too weak, too obvious, too invested at this point.
But in the end, I worried for nothing. Jason didn’t make it awkward tonight. He didn’t make it at all. And the asshole hadn’t even let me know he wouldn’t come, so I got myself busy with my own work before finally gathering my things and returning to the Thinkers’ House.
“How did it go?” Rowan asked in passing as I climbed the stairs to my room.
“Awesome,” I said.
He thumped quickly down the stairs and waved me goodbye. “That’s great to hear, B.” And with that, he picked up his jacket and disappeared.
I tossed my things inside my room and sat on the edge of my bed, folding my lips and giving myself a moment to think. This wasn’t terrible. There were worse things that could have happened.
He could have come, and I could have said something stupid like, “Please, kiss me again. I’m begging you.”
Besides, if he pulled out of this agreement, I was free to pursue any other activity. Professor Colby couldn’t make me give Jason lessons if Jason wasn’t there. And tonight still counted toward my volunteering hours. I’d take it to the Supreme Court if I had to.
Jason was freeing me from a bad arrangement.
That was a good thing, right? So what if passing by his house would forever be a mortifying experience of anticipation and dread?
So what if I spent the rest of my days at Elmwood worrying I’d cross paths with his shirtless figure and grinning face?
There were other ways I could take. I’d already done that today, walking the way around to the library so I wouldn’t have to pass by his house.
Things were just fine this way.
And if he got benched for not passing Stats, well… Well, that wasn’t my problem at all.
It wasn’t.
But it was his dream to play football and to get into management after college.
You don’t owe him, a voice said. If he doesn’t want to have you tutor him, that’s on him.
But another voice joined the first, arguing inside my head. Jason lived for football. Didn’t I have a responsibility to try a little harder? It was so like me to shut down and cut my feelings off. It was easy. It hurt less than feeling and getting disappointed.
So I let the voices argue, sprawling on my bed and staring at the ceiling, wishing I could just cry because the pressure was becoming unbearable. God damn him and his sexy lips.
If he hadn’t given me a taste, I’d never know what I was missing. As things were, I could only suffer until it inevitably faded and disappeared from my memory.
Let him drop out. Let him be benched. Let him feel the consequences of his own actions. Why should I care?
Yet, even as I drew all the spite I could from the depths of my chest, I was packing again.