BENNETT
CHAPTER THREE
I’m so fucking late.
Which is not entirely my fault. I mean, mostly it is, but not entirely.
Probably not the greatest first impression to make on whoever this girl is that I’m supposed to be meeting at the library for our newly assigned Creative Writing project, but it is what it is.
I just ran from the other side of campus to get here, and I’m a fucking goalie, okay?
We’re not exactly known for long-distance running. I’ve got stamina for days, but fuck, it’s nearly a hundred degrees outside, and it feels like my balls are superglued to the insides of my thighs.
I’m jogging through the library, ignoring the ancient librarian’s stern look of disapproval, toward the back where the study rooms are located.
I glance down at my phone again, double-checking which one I’m supposed to meet her in.
7A.
I scan the signs along the rows of doors until I find the one in question.
Bingo.
I quickly throw the door open and slip inside, shoving my phone back into the pocket of my athletic shorts with my apology already prepped before I’ve even pulled the door closed behind me.
“Sorry I’m late. I—”
“No,” a soft yet sharp voice cuts me off.
No? What does she mean, no?
I turn toward her, and whatever thought I had in my brain melts, and words?
What even are words?
Holy motherfucking shit.
She’s hot as fuck.
In an edgy, might tie you to the bed, might fuck around and suffocate you while she fucks you kind of way.
And I am so into it.
Soooo fucking into it.
She might be glaring at me like she’s contemplating choking the life out of me, and it probably isn’t helping that I’m just standing here like an idiot, staring back at her with my mouth hanging open, but it’s not like I can help it.
I wasn’t expecting to walk into the study room and find… her.
Obviously, I knew I was meeting a girl named Merritt St. Pierre in study room 7A, per her email.
But I had not a single fucking clue that she may be the hottest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on, and it’s me we’re talking about.
That says a lot in itself.
Despite the fact that she’s pinning me with the world’s most lethal glare, her brown eyes narrowed into slits, I can still see how beautiful they are, even from across the room.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone with such warm, deep brown eyes.
They’re a delicious complement to her long, dark hair that’s a rich, smoky brown.
At first glance, it almost looks black until I look again, and I see the lighter pieces peeking throughout.
Her full lips are the softest pink against her pale skin, and my next thought is about how I know they’d change color into a deep, delicious pink after I kissed the fuck out of her.
Like ripe, juicy berries or some shit.
I bite back a groan.
Of fucking course, the universe would put the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in front of me when I can’t even have a taste.
“Give me one reason I shouldn’t walk out that door when you couldn’t be bothered to show up on time?” she asks, the low, soft words edged with a slightly husky rasp that’s so fucking sexy.
I’m so focused on her mouth I miss the question she actually asked entirely.
“What?”
Those plush lips tighten before she rolls them together, nostrils flaring, and shakes her head. For a moment, she just stares at me—more like through me—then abruptly she slams her laptop shut and starts shoving things into her backpack with vigor.
Shit.
“Wait. Wait.” The words rush out as I move closer. “Don’t leave. Please. I’m really sorry I was late. I was across campus at the arena reviewing tape, and I lost track of time. It won’t happen again. Swear.” I flash her my most charming grin.
Up close, I notice the small black hoop that’s pierced through one of her nostrils and the thin black choker necklace wrapped around her delicate, pale throat.
That choker gives me dirty, illicit thoughts, and I want to bang my head on the desk.
Fuck. Me.
“One reason, Legros, or I walk,” she repeats, but thankfully momentarily stops packing her things.
My gaze drops to her lips again as I force a swallow down my throat.
One reason.
Shit. I need a damn good reason why she should stay.
“Because… it’s fifty percent of our grade?” I try.
Her dark brow arches. “That you’ll be doing all by yourself since you can’t seem to respect anyone else’s time? Mmmm. No. Try again.”
Damn, first of all, why is this girl busting my balls so hard, and why is it so fucking hot?
It definitely shouldn’t be.
I don’t think?
“Okay, uh, because…” I drag a hand through my hair, realizing that I’m kind of nervous at the prospect of her leaving me to do this project alone. Not just because that would be a clusterfuck of a situation, but also because I think I’d really rather her stay here busting my balls.
Call it what you want, maybe sheer desperation, maybe a lot of insanity, but I’m going to have to fully blame all of that on what happens next.
Holding her steely, unimpressed gaze, I round the table until I’m directly in front of her, and then I slowly sink to my knees at her feet, peering up at her with my hands clasped together in front of me, a smirk tearing at my lips.
“Because I need you, and I am not too proud of a man to get on my knees and beg for what I want. Please, stay and be my partner, Merritt.”
Her eyes go comically wide, a mixture of emotions rushing across her face in rapid succession, and her brows hunch together as her mouth falls open, but no sound comes out.
Not a peep.
I can honestly say this is the first time I’ve gotten on my knees for a girl within the first five minutes of meeting her.
Hopefully, it works.
In a breath, she recovers, snapping her lips shut with an exaggerated eye roll. “Jesus. Get off the floor. Sit. Before I change my mind.”
It’s the equivalent of her telling me to bark, and like the good boy I am, I rise from my knees and pull out the chair beside her, sinking into it.
She doesn’t sit down, so I look over and up at her, finding her gaze already on me.
“Well? Aren’t you going to sit?”
“Do you have to sit directly beside me? There’s literally an entire empty side of the table over there.”
I lift my shoulder. “I’m a hands-on learner, Mer. I do better under strict supervision.”
“Do not call me that.” The words fly out of her mouth, and then suddenly, she flattens her palms on the table in front of me, leaning down until we’re eye to eye.
“Actually, you know what? Let’s get something straight right now, Legros.
I know that everything in life is the world’s biggest joke to you, and the only thing you take seriously is the puck you chase around, but this is not a joke.
This project, the grade that is fifty percent of our final grade this semester, it’s serious.
And since we’re unfortunately partnered together on it, you’re going to be more serious about classic literature than you’ve ever been about anything in your life. Got it?”
When she’s done, her nostrils are flaring, and her eyes are blazing with the wrong kind of heat.
She’s actually pissed.
And it doesn’t seem like it’s just the fact that I was late today either.
Hm.
It seems like Merritt St. Pierre doesn’t like me.
She really doesn’t like me.
Which is fucking nuts because everyone loves me.
Duh. I’m me.
I make friends with people in the grocery store line. It’s a special talent of mine, according to my mama. She says I could make friends with a brick wall, and it can’t even talk back.
So, needless to say, this turn of events surprises me because I’ve never spoken to her a day in my life until right now.
“That means no showing up late like you constantly do to class. It means actually participating and giving a shit about what we turn in. It means saving the flirting for outside of classroom hours,” she scolds, arching a brow.
I lift my hand to my head and give her an exaggerated salute, watching as her nose crinkles. “Yes, ma’am.” My back hits the seat behind me. “You know, you seem to know a lot about me for someone I’ve never met.”
Something passes through her gaze so quickly that I almost miss it, but I catch it for the briefest of moments.
I just can’t put my finger on it.
This girl is like a breath of fresh air, with her snark and attitude. She’s got fire, and now she’s caught my attention.
Not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing for her.
Or… for me.
Monk status and all. A girl like her is dangerous for my well-being in its current state.
“We’ve—” she starts, but then snaps her mouth shut mid-sentence, an incredulous laugh following it as she shakes her head.
Why does it feel like I’m missing something?
“Never mind. I know everything that I need to know about you, Bennett. Your reputation precedes you.”
Of course it does.
My grin seems to further her annoyance, and she exhales roughly before gathering her books and pushing them to the opposite side of the table, where she sits with her backpack and pulls her laptop back out. Her gaze snaps back to mine. “Did you actually hear anything that I just said?”
I nod. “Of course I did. The project’s important, and I have to be on my very best behavior. Got it.”
She casts me one last withering look before looking down at her laptop.
While she’s tapping away at the keys, I watch her, dragging my eyes over that choker around her neck, along the pale, creamy swell of her tits, which are gathered together while she types.
The deep purple polish that’s chipping along her nails as if she’s been biting them, the stacks of rings covering her slender fingers.
There’s a thick, shiny silver ring on her index finger that she’s running her thumb along, spinning it in circles, over and over.
I think it’s some type of fidget thing, but in ring form.
The way she’s focused on her computer, her gaze fixed to the screen, it seems like she’s doing it absentmindedly.
Out of habit.
I wonder if it’s something she does when she’s nervous.
Am I making her nervous?
My stomach dips as I bite back a grin by gnawing on the inside of my cheek.
I want to ask her about it, but I think she’d probably impale me with a pen, so I don’t.
“Stop staring at me,” she mutters, never taking her eyes off her computer.
I laugh. “I’m waiting for instructions.”
Only then do her pretty brown eyes meet mine, followed by a sigh. “I’m not holding your hand with this, Legros. You’re a big boy.” When she sees me smirk, she rolls her eyes. “See what I mean about being serious? I need someone who’s going to hold their weight in a project this big and complex.”
“Woah.” I hold my hands up in surrender between us. “I am being serious. Tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it. No questions.”
For a beat, she stares at me, and I can practically see the wheels turning in her head.
She’s probably thinking of a hundred ways to kill me, or at the very least to try and get a new partner.
“Did you even read the email Professor Hart sent?”
“Uh, well, not… entirely. Just that you were my partner and the email for us to meet. I was in the middle of a team workout.”
I can see the distaste on her face as she rolls her eyes yet again before glancing back to her laptop and typing. Then she grabs a small lime-green sticky note pad from her backpack and scribbles something on the top of it before turning it toward me and pushing it across the table.
“There.”
I look down at it, and my brow furrows. “What is this?”
“That,” she says, “is the book you need to read in order to write your point of view for the novella we’ve been assigned.”
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
“It’s only five hundred and fifty pages or something, and you’re in luck—they have a copy available here on campus, so you can start today,” she adds.
My eyes nearly fall out of my head.
Five hundred fucking pages?
You’ve got to be kidding me.
“Yeah… no,” I say, shaking my head. “There’s no way I have time to read this.”
Merritt arches a brow. “Then make time.”
“I’m pretty sure there’s a CliffsNotes version somewhere online on some AI site that’ll sum it up quick. I’ll find it and read that instead. Easy. Or wait, is there a movie? That would be even better.”
“And easy isn’t what we’re doing here, Legros.
Sorry. I know you’ve probably spent the majority of your college career half-assing things, but that’s not who I am.
This is literally worth half of our grade, and I’m not about to take the easy route instead of doing the actual work.
Neither are you,” she spits back, her voice laced with disdain.
Her annoyance is radiating off her in rolling waves, her spine straight as a board, her chest rapidly rising and falling, a flush spreading up her neck.
“I’m not joking. I will not fail this because of you attempting to take the easy way out. ”
I think something’s actually wrong with me, like in my brain, because the fact that she’s busting my balls like it’s a professional sport is having the opposite effect on me.
It’s turning me the fuck on.
I have to discreetly rearrange the semi in my shorts beneath the table.
Yeah, something’s definitely fucking wrong with me.
Oh well.
“Plus, how about you read the fucking room, dude. AI is literally killing our planet. And it’s people like you that would rather use it than actually do the work who are to blame for that. Just read the damn book and save some water.”
I hum. “Damn. Didn’t know that.”
“Shocker,” she deadpans. After a moment of glaring at me, she sighs, and her face softens ever so slightly, tension creeping into the space between her brows. “Why did you choose Creative Writing for a class anyway? Seems a bit off-brand for a guy like you.”
“A guy like me?” I say, reaching up to the chain around my neck and putting it between my lips, tossing it around my mouth with my tongue. My own little habit, I guess. This chain’s been my lucky charm since I was a freshman in high school. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
Merritt shifts in her chair, shrugging. “You’re a hockey player. I’m pretty sure the only one in the class. Creative Writing doesn’t seem like the easy route, so why that?”
Chuckling, I sit up straight and put my elbows onto the desk in front of me. “It was the only one that was left. I picked my classes late, so I had to go with what was left and would fit in my schedule.”
“Of course you did,” she says with an eye roll. The sound of her phone chiming has her reaching into her pocket. She pulls it out, frowning down at the screen before standing from her chair. “I have to go.”
Now?
Like right now?
“Uh, alright,” I say. “So, what’s next?”
She pauses putting her stuff into her backpack and then looks at me. “Next… you read the book. And if you don’t, then don’t bother showing up next time. You’re either serious, or you’re not, Legros. I guess we’ll find out then.”
She doesn’t say anything else, including a goodbye, as she hauls her backpack high on her shoulder and walks out of the door, leaving me alone in the dead silent study room.
I glance down at the sticky note on the table in front of me and groan.
Motherfucker.