Four Years Later by Monica Murphy Read Free Book Online

good.
    I finally find the room and see that the door is closed. Approaching it, trepidation fills me. What am I doing? Why do I look forward to seeing her? She’s nothing. Nobody. She’s not even that attractive.
    Liar.
    Fine. She’s cute. But nothing special. I don’t understand why I feel this way.
    Clutching the door handle, I push it open and walk inside. She’s sitting at the same table, hunched over her cell phone and tapping away at the screen. Texting someone, no doubt. I wonder who.
    A friend, a family member, a … boyfriend?
    I don’t like the idea of her having a guy and I sort of find it hard to imagine, too, though that makes me sound like a dick. But she gives off that untouchable vibe. Chicks like that normally don’t interest me whatsoever.
Fine, you don’t want me to touch you, let alone look at you? No problem.
    So why does seeing Chelsea make me want to touch her all over?
    Focus, asshole.
    “Hey.” Her soft voice breaks through my thoughts and I glance up, meet her gaze to see she’s smiling at me. Seeing that smile shoots a zing straight through my heart, but I ignore it. “You made it.”
    Flicking my chin at her in greeting, I settle in the chair across from her, not right next to her like last time. I’d done that to rattle her before. It had worked. But not today. Today I’m thinking we need to act like she’s my tutor and I’m her student.
    “I completed a few assignments,” I tell her as I unzip my backpack and dig through it, pulling out the three assignments I worked on last night. “Here you go.” I hand them to her.
    Chelsea’s entire face brightens as she takes the papers from me, our fingers grazing, her gaze roving over each page as she looks through them. “I’m so glad you did this. Did you go to class?”
    I nod. It had been kind of hard, because I was behind in assignments and it was difficult to keep pace, but I pretended to keep up as well as I could. “Went to my Creative Writing class, too.”
    “That’s the one class I’m looking forward to working on with you. I’ve heard it’s your secret talent,” she says, grabbing her phone so she can shove it into her backpack before she opens up my academic file.
    “I have lots of special talents.” When she glances up to look at me with a frown, I raise my brows at her, trying to look like an egotistical ass.
    She rolls her eyes. “I’m sure,” she says sarcastically, but her cheeks are tinged with pink, giving away her discomfort at my dirty joke.
Cute
. Most girls would flirt right back or call me out on it.
    “So what do I have due in the Creative Writing class?” I may as well get it out in the open and make it happen. The faster I can get through this, the faster I can get rid of her and get on with my life.
    “You could start on these shorter assignments. They’re quick and should be easy for you.” She hands me a sheet of paper and I take it, glancing over the missing assignments and the requirements they have before I turn them in.
    Great
. I need to actually create and keep a portfolio of my writing for the entire semester. Considering I’m already about six weeks behind, I have a lot of catching up to do. At this rate, I’m never going to get back on the football team.
    Fuck that
.
    “Can I ask you a question?”
    She glances up at me with startled wide eyes, her lips parted. “Um, sure.”
    “Do you really think I can catch up on all of these assignments quick enough so I can get back on the field and play the rest of the season?” My heart feels like it’s nearly stopped as I wait for her answer.
    Chelsea sinks her teeth in her lower lip, flicking her gaze away from mine. “I … don’t know. You have a lot of missing assignments.”
    “Will you help me?” I clear my throat, hating how hopeful and pleading I sound. I don’t beg. If shit doesn’t go my way, I let it go.
    But I can’t let this go. School, football, my sister’s approval … I need it. I want it.
    “I
am
helping