HIS PLUS-SIZED TUTOR

KYLIE

There are several things I expect to find when I enter Lecture Hall B, but Logan eating a girl's face isn't one of them.

I'm suddenly irritated. Of all the places he could find to kiss and make out with whoever it is, he chooses the professor's desk.

"Are you two aware this is a lecture hall?"

The couple practically swallowing each other's faces in the corner doesn't react.

Of course they don't.

I clear my throat.

Nothing.

"Wow. Okay. I know the class is empty, but I didn't realize people had started using the professor's chair for... whatever this is."

That gets their attention. The girl pulls away first, and then he turns around.

Logan Grey.

My next-door neighbor. My stepbrother's best friend. The same guy who keeps showing up at my house, making out with different girls everyday, and winking at me like we're sharing some private joke I'm not cool enough to understand.

Except we've never actually had a conversation. Not a real one, anyway.

"Kylie," he says, dragging my name out like he's been waiting all day to use it.

I fold my arms. "Logan."

His eyes flick down to my folded arms before returning to my face. Then a smile spreads across his mouth.

God, I hate his guts and ego. He acts like he's the best thing to walk in this world. He acts like he's perfect. But he's not all that. Apart from his looks, personality wise? I think he's a big failure.

Well, I'm not going to tell him that. Not especially because I need his help. Badly, I might add.

I've seen Logan around enough times to know he's the sort of guy who never seems to run out of female attention. Girls at our house light up when he walks through the front door. Even the ones who pretend they're not interested somehow end up laughing at his jokes.

And then there's the way he looks at me.

Those little winks. Those smiles. The occasional hey, sweetheart when he passes me in the hallway at home.

Like he's flirting with me.

Like he flirts with every girl who happens to be breathing in his general direction.

I've never bothered to find out which one it is because, frankly, I have bigger problems.

Unfortunately, one of those problems involves the fact that I've never been kissed.

Not once.

Not a single boy has ever looked at me and decided he wanted to do something about it. I've spent twenty years watching other girls collect first kisses, first dates, and first relationships while my own romantic life remains as exciting as a tax seminar.

And lately, I've been wondering if the problem is me.

Maybe I'm too awkward. Maybe I'm too shy. Maybe it's because I'm plus-sized and boys have simply decided I'm not their type before I've even opened my mouth.

I hate that thought.

I hate it even more because I can't seem to stop having it.

But I'm tired of wondering what I'm doing wrong. I'm tired of reading romance novels and imagining what it would feel like to have someone look at me like I was the only girl in the room.

I want to experience something real.

And if I can't magically become the kind of girl boys fall over themselves to pursue, perhaps I can at least learn how to stop being so hopelessly inexperienced.

Which brings me back to the gorgeous idiot standing in front of me.

Logan Grey.

Lacrosse captain. Campus celebrity. Professional flirt, apparently.

A guy who seems perfectly comfortable kissing a girl in a lecture hall without giving a single thought to the fact that other people might have eyeballs.

Look at him.

The relaxed shoulders. The confidence. He looks like a guy who knows exactly what he's doing.

"Are you going to keep staring at me?" Logan asks, interrupting my train of thought.

The girl beside him makes a small, irritated noise. Right. I forgot she was there.

"Trust me, you're not that interesting."

He raises a brow. "Yeah? Then tell me, why are you still here?"

I straighten my shoulders. "I need to talk to you."

His smile falters.

It's fascinating, really. I've spent the last month watching this guy breeze through my house as though he owns the place, winking at me and tossing out little comments without ever seeming particularly interested in anything I have to say.

Now, for the first time, I'm the one initiating a conversation. And he actually looks surprised.

"Me?" he asks.

"No, the bookshelf behind you."

His mouth twitches. "Funny."

"I try."

He studies me for a moment, his gaze moving over my face as though he's trying to work out what I'm up to. Then he glances at the girl beside him. "Can you give us a minute?"

She stares at him. "Seriously, Logan?"

He barely glances at her. "What?"

"You're seriously kicking me out because your neighbor wants to talk to you?"

"Looks that way."

She lets out a short, disbelieving laugh, smoothing down her top before looking at me properly for the first time.

"Oh, honey." Her eyes travel over me, then return to my face. "Good luck with this one. Just know that he's no different from all the other guys. He'll use you and use you until there's nothing left. You look like a good girl who wants to stay away from such guys. I'm only telling you because I love you. He's a dick."

Before I can respond, she turns back to Logan.

"You know, for someone who acts like every girl on this campus is replaceable, you're surprisingly predictable."

His expression doesn't change, but something in his eyes cools. "Are we done?"

She stares at him, then laughs again. "God, you're such an asshole."

He shrugs. "You're welcome to leave whenever you want."

She snatches her bag off the table and swings it over her shoulder. At the doorway, she pauses and looks back at him.

"Don't bother texting me tonight. We both know you'll only be bored enough to remember I exist after you've exhausted your other options."

Then she walks out, letting the door swing shut behind her.

I slowly turn to Logan. "Do you always treat girls like that?"

His jaw shifts. "You asked to talk to me, Kylie. What do you want to talk about."

I take a breath.

This is fine.

Everything is fine.

All I have to do is explain my predicament to a guy I've barely spoken to. What could possibly go wrong?

"Okay," I say, clasping my hands together before I can change my mind. "This might sound a little weird."

Logan tilts his head. "Now I'm interested."

I swallow. "I was wondering if you could help me with something."

His eyebrows lift. "What exactly?"

"I want you to help me to get guys to like me."