Chapter 7
SEVEN
HAVEN
Dallas works quietly on his writing project, typing on the keyboard, every now and then glancing my way.
The very fact that I’m here at college to, number one, play professional softball after, but two, to earn a teaching degree so that, at some point, I can be an educator, makes it both good and bad that Dallas came to me for help.
Good because I truly can help him. When I was tutoring, I loved it.
I feel like, aside from softball, it’s the one thing I’m good at.
Not to mention it’s so incredibly rewarding.
But bad because I can see how much he’s struggling.
It’s not that he’s being lazy or doesn’t want to do this. He wants to—I can tell that easily.
I want to ask him if he’s ever had any testing done to see if he could have qualified for an individualized education program or accommodations of some sort.
But I can’t bring myself to do that because it’s obvious that he’s self-conscious with his struggles.
The last thing I want to do is make it worse, at least until we establish some trust and understanding between this tutor and student dynamic.
Until then, I’ll do my best to be patient.
Math and Language Arts are the two culprits, but the thing is, math he seems to understand and pick up on quickly with most of it, but some of the concepts—especially those that have a lot of reading involved—forget it.
Once he’s finished, he slides the computer across the table, allowing me a look.
Instantly, what draws my attention are the misspelled words. And while autocorrect may fix some things, it can’t fix words that are so far outside what they’re supposed to be. But still, I know what he’s trying to say with them, and without him knowing, I quickly fix them.
“So this looks good, but you know what would make it better?” I say, being sure to keep my voice optimistic and upbeat. He’ll believe in himself more if he knows that I do too.
“If someone else wrote it?” he deadpans, and I throw my empty water bottle at him.
“No!” I say quickly. “If you just add a little more detail, I think it would give it that little something it needs. Don’t rush your answers, D. Because if I can tell you rushed through them, your professor will too.”
He sucks in a dramatic breath and then takes the computer back from me. “You’re a hard ass like your dad, you know that?”
“But I’m better to look at,” I say with a wink before frowning. “Well, unless you’re like all of my friends who tell me daily how hot he is.” I pretend to gag. “So gross.”
He laughs, but before he can say anything, I point to his laptop. “Nope. Get to work. It’s nearly ten o’clock, and I have practice in the morning. Which means, you have ten more minutes of my time before I’m kicking your ass out.”
“Fine, fine,” he grumbles, though the corner of his lip is turned up the slightest in a smirk. “You really are your dad. Geesh.”
Standing up, I smack the top of his head before heading to the kitchen and grabbing a seltzer water from the refrigerator. I take my time, even going as far as wiping the counter off with a Lysol wipe and tidying up, not wanting to distract him.
Just as he looks like his typing has slowed, he glances up at me, and then the door swings open and in walks Harley’s boyfriend, Cane. Right away, I can see the panic in Dallas’s eyes as he closes the computer.
“What are you doing here, Rivers?” Cane asks, strutting across the room.
Dallas doesn’t look at me—not once. But I can see the wheels turning as he figures out what he’s going to say or how he’s going to play this. Most people would just admit they were getting help with schoolwork, but something tells me he’s not that guy.
“Oh, uh, Haven and I have an assignment due that we’re partners for,” he says, still not making eye contact with me. “We were just finishing up.”
“Nice,” Cane says, holding a hand up at me. “Hey, King.”
“Hi, Baseball Boy,” I say, using the nickname Harley gave him. “She’s upstairs, probably sleeping by now. She barely made it through the episode of Love Island.”
“That’s because that shows sucks,” he deadpans before walking to the refrigerator and grabbing a water.
Closing the fridge, he heads toward the hallway. “Night, King. Later, Rivers.”
“Night,” Dallas and I both say, and Cane takes off down the hallway.
I’m jealous of how much he loves her, but I’m so glad that he treats her so well.
What most men would consider princess treatment, to Cane is bare minimum.
He’s just that good. But none of that matters right now, because I’m about to kick the asshole sitting at my table out of my house and tell him never to come back.
“Okay, get the fuck out,” I say, once I hear Harley’s door close.
Charging toward him, I shove his stuff against his chest. “Seriously, get out.”
“Stop,” he says, standing up and grabbing his things as I storm to the door and swing it open.
“Out,” I say, holding it open and letting the cold September air flow in. “Now.”
He walks toward me, but he doesn’t leave—making me consider kicking him in the nuts the way I did when I was fourteen and he called me stupid.
“Why are you so pissed?” he has the nerve to ask, making me even more tempted to make him cry with one swift kick between his legs.
“If you’re too cool to admit I’m tutoring you, then guess what? I don’t need to be tutoring you.” I look past him, not making eye contact. “I have a list of students who would love to be working with me, Dallas. And instead, here I am, helping you. All so you can be embarrassed of it.”
“Whatever,” he snaps, walking past me. “What the fuck would you ever know about being ashamed of anything, King? You’ve got the world by the balls.
Rich parents. Good grades. A picture-perfect childhood.
” He stops, making it impossible to shut the door, even if I wanted to.
“Maybe some people don’t want everyone to know their struggles. You ever think about that?”
Guilt threatens to pierce my heart, but damnit, I’m still irritated that he felt the need to lie to Cane. Cane, a guy who, out of all people, wouldn’t judge. He’s such a good person that sometimes, it’s a little scary.
I don’t have time to respond because before I can come up with anything to say, he storms down the steps, walking across the lawn and to the sidewalk, no doubt heading back home to The Tower.
For as long as we’ve known each other, we’ve been like this. Always under each other’s skin, pissing each other off. So why the hell have I loved him since we were just kids? Love wouldn’t feel like this …
Would it?
DALLAS
Damn Haven’s annoying mouth. And her unreasonable personality. Or her way of thinking that we shouldn’t be embarrassed about ourselves—ever. To her, you are who you are, and people can take it or leave it.
Yeah, and that probably works for her because she doesn’t have a hundred demons trying to pull her under all the time, and a brain that has no right being here—at a Division 1 school.
So what if I lied to Cane? What’s it to her?
It’s not like I created some off-the-wall story, explaining why I was there.
I just bent the truth a little to make myself look like less of an idiot.
That’s it. And then she had to do what she always does—bring the chaos and make a mountain out of nothing.
Now, here I am, driving around because I didn’t want to go inside The Tower, not in the mood to talk to anyone, unsure if this means I have to tell Coach tomorrow that I don’t have a tutor.
Since I’ve been a Rivers, I’ve heard my parents talk about all of these academic awards that Haven has been given and all of these honor societies she’s been in.
I know she’s smart. So why would she understand how humiliating it is for me that I’m not like that?
But fuck, she could have a little damn compassion, that’s all.
I turn the music up louder, attempting to drown the agitation from my body.
Only, what floods through it next is worse, and soon, an image of her ass cheeks earlier when she reached up in the cupboard to get a glass and her short shorts lifted assaults me.
All I was trying to do was work on my damn assignment, and yet, there I was, my cock twitching and my mouth watering, wishing I could have walked into the kitchen, fallen to my knees, and raked my teeth against that perfect, plump ass.
And just like that, my dick is growing harder by the second.
Some girls may not know how hot they are. I’ve seen those girls. They carry themselves a certain way, and yeah, I find that refreshing. They’re innocent and usually bashful. But when it comes to Haven, there’s no fucking way that she doesn’t know.
None at all.
It could be because she’s played at such a competitive level for so long.
When she was a kid, if she wasn’t playing softball, she was on a basketball travel team, often earning player of the game and the MVP title.
Guys followed her around like lost puppy dogs, and girls sometimes hated her at first, even though they loved her once they got to know her better.
She carries herself with swagger and boldness.
So yeah, there’s no way she doesn’t know.
The last thing I want to imagine is how pissed Coach will be. So, instead of focusing on that, I decide to head to the store to use my fake ID on some liquor. Liquor will make me feel better. And besides, I don’t have practice until tomorrow afternoon. Which means I’m good to get fucked up tonight.
And fucked up … I’m going to get.