14. Chapter 14
Ispend all day Friday at war with my emotions. One minute, I’m seething over what an ass Sam is, and the next minute, I’m being eaten away by the disappointment from my experiment last night. I’m distracted throughout my tutoring sessions. So much so, one of my students asks what’s wrong, but I tell her I’m frustrated about a test.
Which is sort of true.
If basically the entire class hadn’t failed, I wouldn’t be in this predicament with Sam. I could go about my days, continuing to ignore him, and be a happier person. But here I am.
When four o’clock rolls around, I pack my materials and head to the O-Chem room. A relieved breath whooshes from my lips when I walk in to find it empty. I’m here first, thank goodness. I set up the almost obsolete overhead projector and organize my transparency sheets. It may be extremely old-school, but it works for me.
The door opens, and I immediately stiffen with the way the air seems to freeze. I don’t need to look to know who walked in. I keep my focus on my materials, not bothering to acknowledge Sam, when I feel his presence near me. Then, the air changes. It thickens with tension, but also fills with his unfortunately delicious lavender scent.
“Hey,” he says quietly.
“Mm,” I respond, but don’t take my eyes off my work.
I hear him sigh, but he doesn’t say anything else as he walks around the desk and deposits his backpack on the floor. I keep working.
“You’re not seriously going to use this thing, are you?”
I whip my head up to see disbelief on his face as he studies the projector. I immediately frown. “Yes, I am. Problem?”
He shrugs. “I guess not. Does it even work?”
“Of course it works. And it’s reliable. I don’t have to worry about Wi-fi cutting out, or a connection being lost, or having the right cables. You just plug it in and turn it on.” With that, I go back to my organization.
“Okay, whatever you say.” Sam steps back to the desk, taking a seat in the other chair and swiveling back and forth. “Brynn, can I talk to you?” he asks, a nervousness in his voice.
With a groan, I lay my marker down and turn to face him. “About what?”
“About yesterday.”
For the first time since he walked in, I look at him. I mean, really look at him. I can tell by the creases in his forehead that he’s concerned about something, but the pain in his eyes punches me in the gut. Maybe I didn’t imagine his hurt at the bar, after all. “Okay.”
“I want to apologize.”
What? Him apologize?
“A lot of what I said to you after class was...” He runs his hand through his hair, his curls flopping back into place when he’s done. “Really mean, and I’m sorry.”
My lips part as if there are words on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t bring myself to say them, so I settle for, “Thank you for saying that.” I ignore the guilt building within me and go back to my transparencies.
“That’s it? You don’t have anything to add?”
“Like what?” I ask, not looking at him.
“I don’t know, maybe an apology of your own?”
Now I look at him, but with a glare. “You want an apology? For what? You’re the one who was being nasty yesterday.”
“Hey, you dished it out, too.” He points at me. “I was just reacting.”
I let out a sassy snort. “Well, you reacted poorly.”
“At least I have the humility to admit when I’m being an ass.” Leaning back in his chair, he folds his arms.
“Care to show some of that humbleness now?”
He slowly shakes his head as his mouth ticks up in a smirk. “You are one stubborn woman, you know that?”
“Yep, and it’s not surprising that you find it aggravating. Most men do.”
“Did it bother the guy you danced with last night?” A bitterness laces his words, and I notice his jaw is slightly clenched.
I arch an eyebrow. “Why are you concerned with him?”
Sam’s Adam’s apple bobs with a deep swallow before his features relax, a sly grin taking over his face. “Just worried he didn’t know what he was getting into. I mean, you do have a history of sharing intimate moments with men, only to turn on them later.”
“Hmph.” I narrow my eyes. “Well, you can rest assured knowing I didn’t give him the chance. I’ve got enough emotional sewage to wade through after you.”
Sam jerks his head back, his eyes wide. Then, I watch as his whole face softens, like his heart just split right down the middle. “Brynn, I?”
Before he can finish, the classroom door opens, and students file in. I can breathe once more. That conversation was getting too heavy, and I’m glad it flew through the doorway before it became cemented to the floor. I go back to finishing my lesson plan as we wait for everyone to take their seats.
Sam leans over into my space, and I hate, that even after our bickering, I still like his nearness. “Do you need me to do anything?”
I stand instantly, shaking my head. “I’ve got this.”
“Of course you do.” His lips press into a flat line and he nods.
Giving him a sharp glare, I step to the projector and begin the study session. It’s a sixty-minute time slot, which goes by super fast, and before I know it, people are leaving. As I pack up all my transparencies and markers, I smile proudly. That felt like a really good session. It was productive and informative, and I know grades on the next exam will improve. I’m still beaming when the last student leaves.
“Brynn, can I say, you’re brilliant,” Sam says, still perched in his chair.
I ignore the warmth his praise makes me feel, the bright smile I almost shine his way, shrugging instead. “Yes, you certainly can.”
“You’re also very modest.” He chuckles, getting up to walk to the desk. “But can I also say, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, that lecture was fucking boring.”
My mouth drops open as I frown. “Excuse me?”
“All that info was spot on. You know your stuff and it shows in how you deliver it.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Which you did exactly the same way as Professor St. James.”
I blink in disbelief, unable to form words.
“She’s brilliant, too. Don’t get me wrong, but she’s also fucking boring.”
I scoff. “You’re incorrigible.”
“Why do you think the whole class failed that exam? They were all probably lulled to sleep by her mechanical, robot voice. You can’t tell me you don’t hear it.”
My forehead scrunches as I think. I’ve never thought she sounded like a robot, but I guess she does tend to drone on when she gets stuck on a tangent. “Maybe she is a little robotic sometimes.”
“A little? The woman makes Siri sound like Oprah.”
I snort a laugh. “Well, when you put it like that...”
Sam smiles, his gaze lingering on me. “Can I make a suggestion?”
“Only one.”
“What if next week, we do something different? Like a game?”
“A game?”
“Yeah, we can split the room into teams and play Jeopardy, or something.”
I crinkle my nose. The idea sounds good, but executing it sounds like I’m going to struggle on a computer. “Do you know how to do that?”
“Yeah.” He nods, the smile growing in smugness. “It won’t take too long. We could knock it out in a couple hours.”
I jerk my head back. We? “You mean, like, us meet up to work on it?”
“Well, yeah. We could meet at the library or the coffee place down the street.”
My heart leaps into my throat. That isn’t anything I want to do. “Um, can I email you the info and you put it together?”
His excitement falters. “Oh, um, yeah. That works too.”
I choose to ignore the strange disappointment on his face as he picks up his backpack, hikes it onto his shoulder, and heads for the door. He doesn’t even say goodbye as he leaves.
The following Friday, when I get to study group, I don’t have anything to do. Sam made the presentation, so he’s got everything on his computer, and I have nothing. I mean, I supplied all the questions and answers, but I have no physical contribution.
I plop down into the desk chair and swivel around. I hope this session goes well. Sam’s idea wasn’t terrible, even if what he said about my presentation was. I still can’t believe he called me boring right after he apologized for the crap he said the day before. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t still miffed about it.
What am I going to do about him? Things between us are so weird.
It’s his fault. One second, he’s doing something sweet like telling me I’m brilliant only to negate it the next second by saying something stupid. It’s confusing to no end. I don’t know what happened to the guy I met in July.
Oh wait, that’s right. He doesn’t exist.
At least not the sensitive, emotional side of him. Physically, he’s the same person, and I can’t deny my attraction to him. I mean, the guy is hot. Downright gorgeous, actually. But a handsome face isn’t enough when you’re a jerk on the inside. Some of the things he’s said have been incredibly harsh, so I can’t blame myself for reacting the way I have. And after all the lies and manipulation, he deserves every bit of pain I inflict.
Though, he did initiate the apology. That was nice of him.
Not nice enough for me to completely forgive him, but maybe enough for me to keep things civil. At least while we’re working on the study group stuff. I mean, we’re going to have to work together no matter what, so why make it more difficult than it has to be?
I’m feeling better about the situation when Sam walks in the room. He shoots me a smile, and something in my brain ticks. Something from a few months ago when I first met him and thought he was someone special. It warms me. I don’t want to like the feeling, but I can’t help it. Even if it’s rooted in vanity, it’s still comforting.
And I’d rather have that than all this antagonizing tension.
He sets his backpack in the chair. “Hey.”
“Hey. All set?”
He nods. “Yeah, I want to go through it real quick to make sure it’s all still there.” Pulling out his laptop and several cables, He sets them all on the desk. “You want to help?”
“Me?” I’m sure the incredulous look on my face is ridiculous. “I don’t know how.”
“I can teach you.” He gives me a teasing smirk. “If you’re not too stubborn to learn.”
That was almost nice. “That’s okay. You should probably do it. I’ll just be in the way.”
“Suit yourself.” Sam gets down to business. He plugs in the different cables, connecting the computer to the projector, and soon the presentation is on the screen. He clicks through all the slides to ensure the questions and answers are all there in the right places.
“You did that very quickly,” I say, begrudgingly impressed.
“It’s pretty easy once you know how to use the program. I can’t believe you’ve gone so long without learning.”
“It’s not like I’ve never used it.” I fold my arms. “I’ve always made the most basic of presentations and used it as more of a guide.”
“I can’t imagine you doing anything basic.” His tone is low, gravelly, as his eyes flick between mine. “Not after what I’ve seen.”
My mouth has run dry, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t know what I would say to that even if I could speak. The air is so thick between us, suddenly, I can’t breathe. I sit here with my mouth agape as I try to not choke.
When the door opens, the spell is broken, and we return to co-hosts of a study group, which goes extremely well. Much to my chagrin, the Jeopardy game is a hit. Everyone is engaged and actively answering the questions. Sam even brought candy as a reward for the winning team to make it fun. As much as I don’t want to, I have to hand it to Sam. He did well. Several people even compliment us on their way out, including Maya.
She stops at the desk, leaning her hip against it. “Good job tonight, Sam.”
“Thanks, but Brynn helped too.”
Is he giving me credit for something?
“Oh, yeah. Of course.” She flips her hair over her shoulder. “Thanks, Brynn.”
“Don’t mention it.” Seriously, don’t.
The look Maya gives me could almost be described as grateful, if it wasn’t for the sneer on her lips. She turns her burning gaze back onto Sam. “This was way better than last week.”
No, really, Maya. Don’t mention it.
Sam gives me the side-eye. “Yeah, well, it was the first week. We worked with what we had.”
Maya blinks, her head jerking back. “No, Sam. I didn’t mean last week was bad or anything, I just?”
“Maya, it’s okay.” Sam laughs. “I’m not offended, but we do have to clean up and get going, so...”
“Oh, okay. Yeah, of course.” Maya adjusts her satchel strap as she backs away toward the door. “I’ll, uh, see you later, Sam. Bye, Brynn.” My name doesn’t leave her lips quite as melodically as his does.
When she’s out the door, I let out a heavy breath. “I thought she’d never leave.”
“Not your cup of tea, huh?”
I shake my head. “Too bubbly. She seems to like you, though.” I hate the jealousy underlying my words, and I hope Sam doesn’t notice it. I have no reason to be jealous. Sam isn’t mine, and I don’t want him to be.
Sam grunts, but says nothing as he ties up his cables and puts them in his backpack.
I swivel back and forth in my chair. “So, tonight went really well. I hate to say it, but you were right.”
“Hold on,” Sam says as he whips out his phone and holds it up, facing me. “Say that again.”
“Why?”
“I want it on video so I have proof.”
I scoff, smacking him playfully with the back of my hand. “I’m serious. Everyone seemed way more engaged. There was a lot of laughing even though the competition got a little intense. You did good, Sam Eastman.”
“Thanks.” A prideful smile graces his face before turning into something more sheepish. “I’ve got other ideas. You know, so we don’t have to play Jeopardy every time?”
“Okay, like what?”
“Different things.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he glances at the floor. “I could show you, if you want.”
“Sure.” It comes out as more of a question because I’m not positive where this is heading.
“Maybe you could come to my place one day and we?”
My eyelids peel back. “Your place? What happened to meeting at the library or the coffee shop?”
“We can still do those places, I guess. But it’s easier for me not to have to lug my computer around.”
I chew on my lower lip. Me? Alone with him? Even he has to know this isn’t a good idea. We can’t spend five minutes together without fighting. Okay, tonight was an exception, but we were distracted with the presentation. Who knows what’ll happen if we’re alone together.
Maybe we need to do it once to prove it won’t work. “What the hell. Sure, why not?”
His entire face lights up briefly before he reins it back in, clearing his throat. “Cool. Um, I’m free on Saturdays.”
“As in tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t work or anything?”
“No. My parents said as long as I keep my grades up, they’d help with my finances.” He tilts his head from side to side. “My student loans also help, though.”
Quickly, I do a mental check of my schedule. My Saturdays are always free unless a tutoring session gets rescheduled like last week, but I didn’t have any cancellations today. I sort of wish I had, though. “I guess I could do that,” I say, albeit reluctantly. “What time?”
He pulls out his phone, tapping the screen. “Maybe, like, one o’clock? Right after lunch?”
I nod. Daytime is a good idea. It’ll still be warm as long as the sun is out, and I can be out of there before nightfall. I definitely don’t want to be walking home in the dark, and more than that, I don’t want to be anywhere near Sam at sunset. A romantic backdrop to our study group prep is the last thing we need.
My phone dings, so I grab it from my bag and see a message from “Sam Mudboy” pop up. It’s the first time I’ve seen his contact in my phone since we texted in July. A warm nostalgia washes over me, but I quickly shake it off.
“That’s my address and apartment number.”
I click the message and copy the address to Google Maps. “That’s on the other side of campus from me. Should only take me about fifteen minutes to walk.”
“Walk? Don’t do that. Let me pay for an Uber or something.”
I shake my head. Partly, to dismiss his offer, but also because of the weird protectiveness in his tone. “I like walking, Sam. Outside, remember?”
“Okay, but just so you know, I don’t even have my a/c on anymore.”
A sprinkle of appreciation settles in my chest.
“Well, let’s get out of here.” He shrugs on his backpack and holds his hand out, inviting me to exit first.
As we walk down the hall together, we pick apart our study group session. We discuss the things that went well, and the ones that didn’t quite work. All in all, we call it a success.
To be honest, just walking down the hall and holding a civil conversation seems like a success, too. We make it all the way through the building and outside without arguing. Maybe we can get through prepping the presentation with no issues.
I still don’t know if we’ll ever be more than classmates, but maybe we could be friendly classmates. Even that feels like a stretch, but if I want to survive this year and graduate with an internship, I’ve got to try.