Holding Page 7

  “Thanks for saving me.” I give him a tiny smile. “I think that makes you my Knight in Shining Armor or something.”

  I’m such a dork that I shudder at my comment, but Finch smiles so wide that it reaches his eyes, illuminating every inch of his handsome face. Before he can respond, I raise my hand and wave. I spin on my heel, too afraid to look back.

  With everyone’s eyes burning a hole through me, I haul ass through the center of the library, passing rows of desks, until I reach the tutoring center. Breathing comes easier now that I’m away from everyone. The air is less dense, more manageable.

  I’m at the one place where I am comfortable, the one escape from the real world. It’s also my excuse not to run home after class. My hands stop trembling for all of thirty seconds before Finch strolls into the room behind me. He winks when he locks onto me, making it a point to let me know he’s here.

  Could a guy like Finch like the real me?

  I had my doubts for the past week, which is why I decided never to speak to him again. But he’s here and chatting up the student librarians, who are more than happy to help him. Seeing him here after that kiss is more than I can handle right now.

  I walk up to the counter to get my assignment for the day. Some days are different from others, while some weeks stay the same and I tutor the same person the entire semester. Running my finger down the sign-in sheet, I spot my name and trace a line to the student’s name next to mine. Shawn Finch.

  This is not happening.

  Last year, I would have fought my friend to steal Finch away from her, but what should I do? As per the usual, I’m supposed to stand in the front of the room and call out the name of the student. But I want to vomit at the thought of working with Finch.

  I consider trading with another tutor until it occurs to me that this could help me get what I want, all while helping Finch get what he needs. How else can I get close enough to Finch to get back the other half of my gold charm?

  Attempting to keep my shit together, I move away from the counter and stand in the middle of the desks that run down the aisle. “Shawn Finch,” I say, my voice somewhat shaky but not too noticeable. Or so I hope.

  He stops talking to the guys on the hockey team long enough to glance over his shoulder at me. The way he stares at me makes me nervous. It’s so intense and serious.

  After a long pause, he nods in my direction. Finch pats the boy he was talking to on the back, muttering something I can’t make out, and then stalks toward me with a purpose. His gaze causes my lip to tremble along with my body that has come alive with one look.

  “So, we meet again,” he says, his voice deep and modulated. His words are like a melody playing in my head. “What are the chances that I save you from making an ass of yourself out there, and now, you’re going to save me from failing this class?”

  I grin so wide my jaw hurts. “I guess the odds are in our favor.”

  “I’m serious about the not failing part,” Finch says, as he follows me to my usual table in the back of the room. “I can’t afford to fail any of my classes, or I won’t graduate on time, and Coach will not let me play.”

  “Lucky for you, I am an excellent tutor, and you are in good hands.”

  He pulls out a chair for me at the table, gesturing for me to sit with a nod, and my brain stops functioning.

  I look at him like an idiot, frozen in place.

  “You should sit,” he says, snapping me out of my trance. “The next two hours could be rough in those shoes if you plan to stand the entire time.”

  It doesn’t occur to me what he’s talking about until I look down at the four-inch heels I borrowed from Mrs. Feighry last night. She has amazing taste in clothes and even better taste in shoes.

  I had to present a legal argument in front of the class this morning, and that required me to dress in professional attire as if I were a practicing attorney. I minor in law and major in finance, which is why I have so many classes with Tori. Finch is failing Law and Ethics. I breezed through that class last semester.

  Finch waits for me to sit and pushes the chair in for me. Tori was right about him. He’s not like the person I had built up in my head. The kind of guy who would help a girl into her chair is most definitely the same guy who would take care of his mother. I would love to see that side of him for myself, but that would require me to attend a football game.

  Anastasia and Natasha would be there, making the idea less desirable by the minute. They have their claws in every player who will sleep with them. Finch is mine. But I have to put on my big girl pants if I want him.

  Would he want me? That’s the question of the hour. I guess there’s only one way to find out.

  Getting comfortable in the chair, I lean back against the wood and take out my notepad and books. Finch sits across from me and removes his textbook and writing supplies. His long leg grazes mine as he settles into his seat, causing sparks to ignite beneath my skin.

  He peeks up at me and gives a quick apology. I wish he’d keep touching me, even if it’s just a little under the table action. Being this close to him again does things to me that I cannot explain. I was never a boy-crazed girl, but around Finch, I’m like a blood thirsty vampire, hungry and desperate for more. He smells so good that I take in the scent of his sweet cologne that fills my nostrils. I memorize his perfectly sculpted features, perfectly messy hair that I want to run my fingers through, and his arms…My God I want him to jump across this table and finish what we had started last week.

  Finch must feel it too because he hasn’t spoken a single word. He stares me down like a hunter stalking its prey. I wish he would bite me, lick every inch of my body, and take what he wants. But I am not that girl—even if he is that guy.

  “Are you sure we haven’t met before?” Finch breaks the silence between us. “You look familiar.”

  I shake my head. “I’ve worked at the tutoring center since sophomore year. That could be why I look so familiar to you.”

  He blushes, turning his head to the side for a second. “I guess you get a lot of dumb jocks in here.”

  “No one is dumb. Some people just need more help than others.”

  “And you can help me?” he asks without hesitation. His tone is hopeful.

  “I don’t doubt that you will graduate with our class by the time I finish with you.”

  Finch leans forward, digs his elbows into the wood, and cups his face in his hands. The two feet that separate us is not enough when he flashes me a panty-melting smile that goes straight to my core. I cross my legs and suck in a deep breath, reminding myself to keep it together. I cannot let my guard down around Finch. But he does things to me that I wish wouldn’t happen, stripping away my willpower.

  “You’re graduating this year, too?”

  “With honors,” I confess.

  “Smart, beautiful, what else do I need to know about you?” He stops himself, as if deep in thought, and then continues, “There is something about you. I can’t put my finger on it, but I know you from somewhere other than the tutoring center.”

  “I’m not in a sorority or on the cheerleading team, so I doubt it.”

  “That’s not it,” he says, unfazed by my dig at the company he keeps. “Those girls blend, but a girl like you stands out from the crowd.”

  “How so?” This I’m dying to hear.

  “You’re not like those girls.”

  I snort. “Well, thanks for pointing out the obvious and making this conversation even more awkward.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  I shrug, pretending as though his words didn’t just cut through me. Finch would never see me the way he does a sorority girl or a cheerleader. That much is clear from his comments. I stand out from the crowd all right.

  He crosses his arms over his chest, holding my gaze. Those eyes are like daggers that cut deep into my soul. I wish he’d say something to end my suffering. The silence is deafening and driving me crazy.

  “What’s you
r name, tutor girl?” He’s so fucking cute that when he winks at me, I can’t decide if I want to kiss or punch him for calling me tutor girl. But it sounds more like a term of endearment than an insult coming from Finch.

  “For starters, my name is not tutor girl.” I sink further into the chair and decide what to say next. Around Finch, I’m nervous yet bold, just like I was at the party.

  “I’m still waiting, Princess.”

  “Princess is not any better,” I mutter. “Try again.”

  After an awkward pause, he stretches his hand across the table. “Hi, I’m Shawn Finch, tight end for the Strickland Senators and failing yet another class. I like to party and do stupid shit that ruins my grade-point average, and now, I need this beautiful, spitfire girl to keep my dumb ass from failing.”

  “I already told you that you’re not dumb,” I counter. “You shouldn’t talk about yourself that way.”

  “That’s all you took from what I just said.” He shakes his head, still holding out his hand and waiting for me to shake.

  I slip my fingers between his and electricity sparks between us. It’s as if we never had any time apart, our bodies still connected as one. There’s something between us that no one can deny. He knows it. We both know it.

  “Ella Fitzgerald,” I finally say, letting go of his hand. The sensation between us is too much for me to handle.

  “Definitely not tutor girl,” he says, smiling. “Nice to meet you, Ella.”

  “Nice to meet you too Finch.”

  “I’d rather you call me Shawn.”

  “Everyone calls you by your last name,” I point out.

  “You’re not everyone.”

  His words take me by surprise, causing my breath to hitch. “Either are you, Shawn.”

  “I like hearing you say my name,” he says, his voice almost a whisper. “Say it again.”

  “Shawn,” I breathe, maintaining eye contact.

  The tension between us provokes a deep yearning inside me. I’d love to give into my desires, lunge myself across this table, and admit that I’m the masked girl from the party.

  His muscles flex under the black fabric stretched tight across his chest. Like most of the athletes on campus, Finch has on the standard athletics shirt and track pants uniform they all sport to class. Some days it's jeans or shorts, but today, Shawn is wearing black track pants to match the Strickland Senators football shirt. And he sure knows how to wear it.

  I have to stop this before someone notices. Breaking eye contact with Finch, I grab his textbook and slide it between us, and then, flip open to the middle of the book. “Shall we begin?”

  “Let’s see what you’ve got, tutor girl.” He says it with a cocky smirk and another sexy wink.

  “Okay, Finch,” I challenge.

  He hasn’t even touched me, and I’m wet and aching for more. I have to pull myself together and act as though he hasn’t gotten under my skin. If he keeps this up, Finch will be the death of me.

  How will I make it to the end of the school year with him sitting across from me, giving me those bedroom eyes that weaken me? Finch is like a drug. I get high just from being around him. Can I control myself around him? Do I want to?

  Chapter Eight

  Shawn

  I swear I’m not going crazy, even though my tutor would rather me believe that I have lost my mind. Maybe I’m a little crazy. But I cannot shake the feeling that we know each other from more than the tutoring center. When we touched earlier, I felt a spark that danced along my skin. It was electric, an instant connection to Ella I recognized as if we’d already met.

  Her name doesn’t sound the least bit familiar, but her eyes are what drew me in. She has the kind of eyes you don’t forget and a smile so kind and hopeful that being around her puts me at ease. While she’s different than most of the girls who run in my circles, I like being around Ella.

  She doesn’t stare at me with judgmental eyes. She doesn’t want anything from me or expect me to make her feel important. Nope, this girl wants to help me. And I wish I could figure out a way to help her. I can see right through her shield. I wear the same mask for the world to see, all while hiding how I feel on the inside.

  There must be a reason I have searched this long and hard for my mystery girl. I want to believe there’s a purpose to this madness and that the time was not a waste. One look into Ella’s denim eyes was all it took to cause my skin to prick with tiny bumps, awakening something inside me. She has to be the girl. I am almost certain.

  We didn’t speak much at the party. Instead, we allowed our mouths and bodies to do the talking. For the past week, I have done nothing but study the female anatomy and traced every curve in my mind, all in hopes of finding my masked beauty. I wonder if Ella is the girl. Only one way to find out.

  While Ella sifts through my unorganized notes, trying to match my assignments to the syllabus, I pull out my cell phone from my pocket to look at the picture of the masked girl. The fact I have repeated the same process around campus only reinforces my assumption that I need help. But I have to find her.

  Keeping my phone in my lap under the table, I try to get a good glimpse of the girl. It’s hard to tell from this angle if Ella matches the picture. Ella is beautiful in a girl next-door kind of way, with long, blond hair that sits above her full breasts. My tutor is provoking a reaction from me that needs to quit. Semi-hard, my cock lengthens with each flick of her hair or lick of her lips.

  Every breath she draws only brings more attention to her tits. Mentally tracing my way from her lips to her chest, I try to think of something else. But I can’t. Her face and body are too distracting.

  Despite her similarities in appearance to the masked girl, I could not see Ella at a frat party on a Saturday night. Intellectual types like her probably do whatever it is that smart people do for entertainment. Reading would be my first guess. She’s not a degenerate like me, out partying until the sun comes up. Between Coach and my teammates, I should have my shit together, but I like the college lifestyle too much to slow down. Now, I have no choice but to get my act together.

  Ella has given me a new reason to step up my game. If we have to spend time together from now until graduation, it will be hard. It will be worse if she keeps making me hard. I’m like a fourteen-year-old boy around her, unable to control my physical reaction. Good thing we’re sitting down or this would be awkward.

  After she finishes taking notes and marks off pages in the Law and Ethics textbook, Ella glances up from the book and locks onto me. “By the looks of it, you’re either not studying or don’t understand the assignments. So, which one is it?”

  I shrug. “Both, I guess. I don’t know. I thought I knew what Prof was looking for, but clearly, I have no clue. She keeps giving me D’s.”

  “That’s because you earned them.” Her tone is almost defensive. “Have you bothered to do any of the required reading or do you just write the first thing that comes to mind?” She pauses for a second to regroup, her words brewing anger inside me. “I’m sorry. What I meant to say is—”

  “Don’t bother. I get it,” I interject. “You are right. I haven’t spent any time reading the textbook or put any effort into the assignments. I should never have taken the law as a major, but now, it’s either figure out a way to pass or take another major and not graduate on time. I have NFL scouts looking at me. Working a day job was never part of my plan. Football is my end game, so I just need to do well enough to get a diploma to make my mom happy and get signed by a pro team.”

  “You should give yourself more credit, Shawn.”

  I love the way she says my name because it’s not often I hear it from anyone but my mother and grandmother. Even my cousins call me Finch. My last name has taken on a persona.

  “I would give myself credit if I put the time into school and was still struggling. The truth is I’m failing because school just doesn’t interest me. Never has and probably never will.”

  “If you know you need to study, th
en I don’t see why it would kill you to take an hour each day so you can pass. The only way tutoring can work for you is if you give it a chance. I can sit here all day long and tell you what you need to know, but if you don’t put in the effort, our sessions are pointless.”

  I lean forward, pinning her down with one look. “Maybe I need you to help me outside of these walls.”

  Ella narrows her eyes at me. “I’m not sure I follow.”

  “We could be study buddies.” I sound like an idiot, but I don’t give a fuck. Ella makes me want to study more than just law. And I cannot help myself.

  She seems confused. “Isn’t that what we’re doing right now?”

  I shake my head. “Nope, not even close. I think I may need more than a few hours in the library with you.”

  Still perplexed, she asks with a slight hesitation, “What do you have in mind?”

  “My house tomorrow night. That would be a good start.”

  She squirms in her seat, breaking eye contact as she scans the expanse of the room. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

  I reach across the table and cover my hand over hers to catch her attention. Her eyes find mine once more, and I can feel her pulse speed up. I make her nervous, even though she’s been trying to hide it from me. She makes me nervous, too.

  “I promise I won’t bite.”

  She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, causing me to think of other things I’d like to bite, lick, and suck.

  “Outside of school hours is hard for me. I have family obligations. I would love to help you, believe me, I would, but I cannot do what you are asking of me. You can have me during school hours.”

  Judging by the way she looks away in horror, she didn’t mean to sound so forward. Not that she even meant those words in that way. I wish I could have her while at school. I would like to get to know her better right now.

  “School hours. Got it,” I say with a smile to put her at ease.

  The corners of her mouth turn up. “How about we get back to your homework, so you don’t fail out of the class?” I nod, and she continues, “Do you understand how the professor structured each lecture and assignment? I want to get that out of the way first, just in case you have any concerns.”