Chapter 5

Ryder

I couldn’t stop thinking about the way she looked at Kane.

It was stupid. Completely fucking stupid. She hadn’t even smiled that big. Just a soft little “trying to” and some quiet eye contact, and somehow it sat in my chest like a rock the rest of the day. Kane had been his usual easygoing self, tossing out that “if he gets too unbearable” line like he was the good guy in the situation. Which, fine. He usually was. But I didn’t like how Ivy’s voice changed when she answered him. Softer. Less sharp. Like she didn’t have to armor up around him the way she did with me.

I hated that I noticed.

After the session I went straight to film review and spent the whole time half-listening to Coach while my brain kept looping the same thirty seconds. Ivy packing her bag. Ivy not looking at me. Ivy lying about eating lunch with that same tired expression she always wore. I should’ve let it go. I told myself I would.

I lasted until Thursday.

She showed up exactly on time again, same oversized sweater, same backpack that looked like it weighed more than she did, same glasses already sliding down her nose. She didn’t greet me. Just sat down, opened her laptop, and pushed a new set of problems across the table like we were continuing a war instead of a tutoring session.

“Afternoon to you too,” I said.

“Read the first one.”

“Damn. No small talk? I’m hurt.”

“You’ll live.”

I leaned back in my chair and studied her. She looked even more worn out than last time. There were faint shadows under her eyes, and her shoulders were tight like she’d been carrying stress for days. I shouldn’t have cared. I told myself I didn’t.

“You look like shit,” I said.

Her eyes flicked up, unimpressed. “Thank you. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all week.”

“I’m serious. You sleeping?”

“None of your business.”

“You’re my tutor. If you pass out mid-sentence it’s kind of my problem.”

She let out a short breath that might’ve been a laugh if it weren’t so tired. “I’m fine, Knox. Just do the work.”

I picked up the pen and started on the first problem, mostly because arguing with her was starting to feel too much like admitting she got to me. The silence stretched. Every time she leaned over to check my work, I caught the faint scent of whatever cheap shampoo she used. It was distracting as hell.

Halfway through the second problem I set the pen down.

“Kane’s got a girlfriend, you know.”

She froze for half a second. Then her face went carefully blank. “Okay?”

“Just saying. In case you were getting any ideas.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Her cheeks went a little pink under the freckles. She pushed her glasses up and stared hard at the worksheet. “Are you always this concerned about your friends’ relationships, or am I special?”

“You’re something, all right.”

“Do the problem, Ryder.”

I smirked and went back to writing, but the irritation under my skin didn’t go away. She hadn’t denied it hard enough. That was the problem. She hadn’t laughed it off or looked disgusted at the idea. She’d just shut down, which somehow felt worse.

We worked for another twenty minutes in near silence. Every time I got something wrong she corrected me without raising her voice, calm and precise, like she was used to dealing with difficult people. It should’ve pissed me off. Instead I kept watching the way her mouth moved when she explained things, the way she bit the inside of her cheek when I deliberately took too long.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” she said eventually.

“Doing what?”

“Writing slower every time I start explaining. It’s annoying.”

“Maybe I just like listening to you talk.”

She gave me a flat look. “Bullshit.”

I grinned. “There’s the attitude. Thought you lost it for a second.”

“I can leave.”

“No you can’t. You need the money, remember?”

Her jaw tightened. I knew I’d hit a nerve, and part of me felt like an asshole for using it. The bigger part of me wanted to keep pushing until she cracked, just so I could see what happened underneath all that control.

She didn’t crack. She just sat up straighter and pointed at the page. “Next problem. And stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re waiting for me to mess up.”

I wasn’t. I was looking at her because I couldn’t seem to stop. Because the more she refused to give me anything, the more I wanted to take it anyway. Because she was the first girl in a long time who didn’t care that I was the captain, or that my last name opened doors, or that most people on this campus would kill to sit where she was sitting.

I went back to the worksheet without answering.

Near the end of the hour she started packing up early. I watched her shove books into her bag with quick, efficient movements.

“Same time next week?” I asked.

“Unfortunately.”

“You could sound a little less thrilled.”

“I’ll work on it.”

She stood and slung the bag over her shoulder. I should’ve let her walk out. Instead I heard myself say, “Jenner.”

She paused at the door, back still to me.

“Eat something before the next session,” I said. “You’re starting to look like you’d lose a fight with a strong breeze.”

She didn’t turn around. “Careful, Knox. That almost sounded like you give a shit.”

Then she was gone.

I sat there for a long minute after the door closed, staring at the empty chair across from me. My pen was still in my hand. The worksheet was only half finished.

I told myself the tight feeling in my chest was just irritation.

I almost believed it.