CHAPTER THREE NICK
CHAPTER THREE
NICK
Oh, god. Dean hates me.
He might not be glowering anymore, but he doesn’t like me.
That much I know, and it’s enough to make my stomach churn.
My friends expect me to be late for pretty much everything at this point, and other than a little ribbing here and there, it hasn’t been a problem, but Dean isn’t my friend.
He doesn’t know me at all, and now I look like an asshole.
Hell, I actually am an asshole.
Damn it. I fucked up big time, and the worst thing is, he’s not even being mean. He could have thrown my stupid textbook in my face and stormed out, and I wouldn’t have blamed him, but he stayed, and that’s hitting my guilt a little too hard for comfort.
“Do you mind letting me take a look at your test?” Dean asks, jolting me out of my nerve-induced fog. “I can troubleshoot your mistakes a little better if I know where to focus.”
I give him a tight nod and email him the scanned results link, my stomach knotting up and preparing me for more well-deserved judgment.
His face stays calm as he scrolls through the document, flicking a thick strand of black hair away from his forehead.
“So looking at your answers, it seems like you almost got most things right, but you lost a ton of points by writing numerals, not characters for the numbers themselves. That shouldn’t be hard to fix. ”
Oh. “Really?”
He offers a smile. It’s small, but it does a ton of heavy lifting for relieving my stress. “Yup. I think you’re gonna do well. You got almost everything else right, which is great.”
Shit. Dean’s being nice to me again, and I don’t deserve any of that—
“And then you mixed up a few characters here and there…” He tilts his head at me, pausing and narrowing his eyes. Sheesh, even his face is kind, even though his sharp cheekbones and dark eyebrows are intimidating as heck. “Nick, are you good? You’re spacing out every time I look at you.”
“I’m scared,” I blurt out, and it’s the truth.
“Of this module? It’s numbers.”
“No. Of you.” I grimace.
Dean smiles wider—it’s casual and unbalanced, which helps undo the bundle of knots in my core. “What, do I look mean or something? Trust me, I don’t bite.”
“No, but I made you mad.”
Sighing, he leans back in his chair and stretches up. “Dude, I’m not mad. Like, yeah, I was pretty annoyed that you were late, but I can let things slide.”
I fiddle with the pen in my hands, only to find I’ve completely disassembled it over the past minute. “Really?”
“Yes, really.” Dean purses his lips and twists one of his hoodie tassels between his fingers, still grinning. “Okay, you’re nervous and sorry and you regret it. I’m not gonna hold it against you, and we can start over. How does that sound?”
“Awesome. Thank you.”
He extends his right hand. “Great. Hi, I’m Dean, and I’m your tutor for the semester.”
I return the handshake, and ooh, his hand is warm. “Hi, I’m Nick, and I have no idea what I’m doing.”
That earns me a quiet laugh. “Don’t worry. I can maybe try to help. No promises, though.”
Without thinking, I reply, “No promises? Damn, where’d the team find you?”
Shit. Is it too soon to slip back into joking?
“Two of your team assistants plucked me off the street,” he deadpans.
I scoff. “Deadass?”
“Oh yeah. Not kidding. That’s why I’m not making any promises.” Dean chuckles, and any remnants of my earlier unease are nowhere to be found.
Encouraged, I raise my hands in mock shock. “Woah. Just like that? Did they even check to see if you can speak Chinese?” I’m ninety percent joking, but he has zero trace of a foreign accent, which piques my curiosity.
He shrugs. “I do. It’d be kind of hard not to, since I grew up over there and speak it with my parents. But I went to an international school, so that’s why I talk—”
“—like a frat bro from Connecticut?” I tease, because he really does, with a funny placid drawl and everything.
He scoffs, shaking his head and snickering. “I do not.”
“You totally do.”
“Come on, don’t do me like that.” Dean rolls his eyes, and sheesh, he’s got a great smile—it makes him look approachable and chill, even when I’m ribbing him. “Anyway, don’t distract me. Let’s get your grade up.”
Oh, right. I’m here to get tutored in the class I’m failing, not make a new friend. Although the second thing would be a sick bonus.
As I open my textbook to the last module, Dean walks around the table and sits in the creaky chair next to me, shuffling it over to get a better view of the pages.
The guy smells great, which is kind of a creepy thing to notice, but it’s fresh and makes it clear he doesn’t spend a lot of his free time around a bunch of sweaty athletes.
The two of us review the module I failed, before reading ahead a little where I get a primer on numbers thirty through a hundred. The whole time, I’m mentally kicking myself for flunking this damn term test, given that the material isn’t super hard.
Or maybe it’s because Dean’s a good tutor. He should give himself a little more credit.
“Okay, that’s it for today,” he says after his phone timer beeps. He unlocks the screen and hands it over. “Add your number and send me a text so we can arrange another session.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I do what he asked and send myself his last-used emoji, which is a peach. Suppressing an inappropriate laugh, I hand the phone back. “I’ll set, like, a million reminders to leave on time so I’m not late.”
“Are you late a lot?” he asks.
Heat rises up my neck at the question—he really clocked me. “Kind of. It’s not a problem with my friends, but it’s a bad habit I need to kick.” I shuffle in my seat. “Especially when someone doesn’t know me.”
“That makes sense, but…” He purses his lips, thinking. “If it’d make things easier, I can go to you next time.”
Out of instinct, I cock my head and rest it on my hand. “Aww, you wanna come to mine already? I’m flattered.”
Shoot. I met this guy less than an hour ago. It’s way too soon to joke with him the way I do with Ian and—
Dean chuckles and rolls his eyes. “You bet. Light a candle for me, and I’ll be falling at your feet in no time.” Then he winks at me, standing up and heading out.
I lean back, grinning.
Fuck yeah. I didn’t only recover from my stupid little screw-up with Dean. The two of us are good.