“You could have asked me first,” she bit out.
“I could have, but you’d have said no.” My reasoned responses were only making her angrier, but she was trying to fight it back. She had a lot of control. I admired that. I possessed little myself. It was one of the many shitty things I inherited from my dad. Maybe biology would teach me how to excise the bad genes from the good ones. I think that’s what they teach in the molecular biology section.
“We can communicate via e-mail,” AnnMarie replied evenly. Her color was high, but she’d subdued the high notes in her voice.
In just fifty minutes, I’d learned several important things about AM. She had cute, tiny, girl muscles; she took great notes; she smelled good; and she had a great deal of self-control. And in no way was she afraid of me.
“Come on. No one uses e-mail but professors.” I nodded toward the front stage, which now held only an abandoned lectern and a desk. The good thing about us having this extended post-class discussion was that the aisles weren’t crowded and the TA had gotten fed up waiting for AnnMarie to break from the herd so he could inappropriately offer her private tutoring sessions.
“You look like you’re going to blow up. It’s a good thing class is over,” I added. Something perverse inside me wanted to needle her some more just to see how good her self-control really was.
Her eyebrows shot up, but instead of the expected high-pitched yelp, her voice got lower. “Oh my God,” she said in clipped, low tones. “It’s a good thing there are still people in here because, I swear, if we were alone, I would stab you through the eye with a pen.”
“You know, a lot of people say that they’d do those things, but I’ve found few can actually follow through.” I tried for contemplative but could feel my facial muscles moving into a grin, and probably an unrepentant one at that, because the more she talked, the more interested I became. She was actually turning me on. I might have to sit in the chair for a few minutes before I could walk out.
“Don’t test me,” she replied coolly, now completely in control, as if a moment ago she hadn’t threatened me with bodily harm. “You’re deliberately goading me, and I don’t understand why.”
I didn’t think “because it turns me on” was a good response. She was right, though; I was deliberately goading her and I felt a tiny twinge of guilt at using her to make myself feel better. But it was so small that I squashed it without remorse.
“Boundaries. Girls are always putting up boundaries.” I sighed dramatically.
“I can’t believe you’re my lab partner. Would you just stand up and let me out.” She threw her backpack over her shoulder and gestured for me to move, but I couldn’t. I had a little wood in my pants and I needed her to be about fifteen degrees less cute in order for me to be able to obey her commands.
“I’m feeling kind of hungry. Are you hungry?” I stalled for time.
“You have got to be kidding. Do you dye your hair? Has too much peroxide use damaged your brain function?” She shook her head. I was blond, and unlike many a fair-haired lass I’d spent time with, mine was all natural.
“So that’s a no? I couldn’t tell because I didn’t hear a no in those words.”
“Yeah, that’s a no,” she hissed at me. Then she leapt onto the table like a puma, jumped down, and hustled out of the classroom. My eyes followed her jean-clad ass all the way up the stairs and out of the classroom.
Pulling out my phone, I looked down at her number and tapped a button to add her as a contact. I thought I’d found a good way to spend my time before Thursday. Helping AnnMarie learn how to say “yes.”
Chapter Three
BO
BY THE TIME I’D EXITED the classroom, AM was gone. I didn’t know much about her, but I knew one person who would.
Noah’s girlfriend worked at the library, and the library was the source of all gossip and rumor at Central, primarily because the student supervisor, Mike Hanover, served as a kind of oral historian of Central College…if by historian you meant someone who traded in gossip and rumor.
A certain amount of bullshit weighted Mike’s commentary, but he seemed to know a shitload about everyone and wasn’t shy about sharing it. I headed to the floor where Mike held court.
My prey sat behind the circulation desk pretending to read a textbook. Mike owed me one since I’d orchestrated a little love connection between him and the object of his unrequited lust. Basically he’d just needed to nut up and ask the chick out. But he was too weak-kneed, and I’d had to act as the third-grade go-between. Now he owed me a favor. Noah thought the world ran on money, but Mal, another roommate, said it runs on favors. I didn’t need money, so I gathered favors. Mike owed me about ten for hooking him up with the love o’ his life.