Monday morning, my alarm clock goes off and I hit the snooze button at least seven times, missing my first class.
After the homecoming game, and after Olivia was rudely whisked away due to rat boys temper tantrum, I may have decided to celebrate our win just a little bit. Or a lot. All weekend long. And I may or may not have a mild hangover currently.
I'm almost tempted to skip my second class, but I think better of it. It's already halfway through the semester, and I'm not sure how many classes I can afford to skip anymore with finals slowly approaching.
Half awake, I drag my ass out of bed and shuffle to the showers. After a quick shower, I get dressed and sling my backpack over my shoulder, heading to the nearest coffee shop on campus, in dire need of a caffeine fix to get myself going.
I walk into the tiny, sleek, modern shop filled with students, the strong scent of coffee wafting around in the air, tingling my senses. Standing in line, I scan the shop and find Delilah sitting near the windows, chatting with a petite blonde whose glasses are almost as big as hers. As if sensing my gaze, Delilah turns her head and we lock eyes. She gives me a smile and a wave, and I reciprocate the friendly gesture just before I'm up next to place my order.
After ordering my cold brew, I patiently stand off to the side and wait for the barista to call out my name. It only takes a few minutes for them to make my coffee and I'm out the door, walking towards my class.
"Miller!"
I look over my shoulder to see Delilah lightly jogging to catch up with me, her dark curls bouncing with each step. I stop and wait for her.
"What's up, Dee?" I ask, taking a sip of my coffee.
She takes a moment to catch her breath, adjusting her thick rimmed glasses and emerald color cardigan she has paired with a white top and dark plaid pants. "I just wanted to apologize for the other night."
I furrow my brow, not quite understanding what she has to be sorry for.
"Quinton," she says. "I realize I'm the one that accidentally spilled the beans that Olivia and I were going to the homecoming game," she clarifies.
"Originally, I was texting my cousin and I guess I wasn't paying too much attention. A text came through asking me what I was doing that night, and me thinking I was still texting my cousin, texted back that I was going to the homecoming game. I didn't think anything of it, but then the next thing I know it's an interrogation about who I was going with, what time, etcetera. Before I could realize it wasn't my cousin who I was texting anymore, it was too late." She cringes, looking guilty.
Ahh, that helps explain it.
"From there, Quinton called me and I couldn't really lie at that point. He came over to my house just as Olivia was pulling into the driveway to pick me up and he tagged along. I'm sorry," she apologizes sincerely.
I shake my head, dismissively waving my hand with the coffee in it, the ice clanking against the side of the cup. "It's alright, Dee. I'm sure he would have found some other way to crash, anyway," I admit bitterly.
Her lips purse ruefully and she nods. "Still. And I'm sorry I couldn't hold him back when you guys went to the truck. You two looked pretty... preoccupied when he came storming through," she says, her lips twitching up into a knowing grin.
I huff out a laugh, shoving a hand into the front pocket of my jeans. "Yeah, the guy has got great timing."
She lets out a laugh, expression sobering after. "You were going to kiss her, huh?"
I take a sip of my coffee, trying to hide any emotions on my face. "Maybe," I muse.
She grins, eyes twinkling. "I knew it."
"Did she say anything about it?" I ask, figuring I may have a chance of getting some dirt on Olivia from her.
She tries to smother her grin, failing. "She's my best friend, you know I can't rat her out," she says, and I can't help but frown.
"But..." Delilah looks over both of her shoulders, making sure no one is lingering, eavesdropping in on our conversation. "Let's just say she was pretty bummed to have to go home early," she says, keeping her voice down.
She flashes me a smile, purposefully bumping her shoulder with mine as she brushes past me, walking away. I spin on my heel and follow her, matching her strides.
"Really?" I ask, a huge grin involuntarily forming on my lips. I was hoping there was a possibility she wanted to kiss me back. If not that would be awkward as fuck and I would have felt really bad.
"Mhmm," she hums, taking a sip of her iced caramel macchiato, the beverage almost the same shade of her skin. "That was a smart move, you know? The bet. Although, next time, I'd really up the ante." She grins mischievously. "The jersey was cute, but you can do better."
I match her grin. "Oh, I plan to."
After English, I follow Olivia to the library to study. We walk across campus, the air chiller now that fall has arrived. The trees have just starting changing colors, leaves falling and swirling around in the breeze.
With the temperature change, Oliva has exchanged her staple T-shirts for sweaters, looking adorable and cozy. She's wearing a cream colored sweater today paired with black jeans and tall brown boots, her long caramel hair tied back in a braid.
"You know," I say as we walk up the library steps, "you could have worn my hoodie today."
A small gasp escapes her lips. "Shoot, I forgot to bring it in today to give it back to you," she worries.
"Don't worry about it, Finch," I assure her. "I don't want it back. The jersey, though... as much as I'd love for you to keep it, I don't think coach would be too happy to have a jersey missing."
"I'll get it back to you," she promises.
We walk into the library and grab our usual table tucked away in the back corner. She pulls out all of her study materials, getting everything set up.
Flipping through pages of the text book, Olivia sketches out a quick outline of topics to go over, referring back to our notes. I watch as she scribbles and highlights, my mind running a little wild whenever she pauses to think, pressing the end of her pen to her bottom lip.
Those lips. They look so soft, so inviting.
My mind wanders back to the other night, how it felt to be slotted between her thighs, my hands running up and down them. How it felt to have her hands on my body. And when her breath mingled with mine at one point...
Damn. I want those lips on mine. To sink my teeth into her bottom lip and suck, letting my tongue—
"Bronx?" Olivia's sweet voice pulls me out of my thoughts. I look up to see her looking at me expectantly.
I clear my throat, adjusting myself in my seat and sitting up straighter. "Yep?"
She looks at me tentatively. "Ready to get started?"
Kissing? Yes.
But then I glance down at all the books in front of her.
Studying. Right. Not really, but I nod anyway.
I try my best to focus on what she's saying, I really do, but it's so hard to concentrate with all the wildly inappropriate thoughts running through my head.
Unable to concentrate, I lean forward, placing my elbows on the table. "Finch," I say, cutting her off and lightly nudging her foot with mine under the table.
She looks up from her textbook at me. "Yeah?"
I bite my lower lip, trying to suppress a grin. "We never discussed the wages for the next test."
She blinks, looking perplexed. "You want to make another bet?"
I lean back in my chair, folding my arms over my chest and giving a casual one shoulder shrug.
She gives me a pointed look. "Depends. What are you thinking?"
"Hmm," I hum, thinking of a way to make this interesting. I've been thinking about it pretty much nonstop since Delilah and I talked this morning, and I think I've come up with the perfect plan. "If I pass the next test, you have to go to The Library with me."
Her face screws into a cute, confused expression. "But we're already in the library..." she trails off, acting like this is some sort of riddle or trick.
I can't help but chuckle. "Not this library, Finch. The Library."
It takes her a moment, but eventually it clicks and her eyes grow wide in realization. She begins shaking her head. "No, Bronx, I can't... I—I've never been to that library," she sputters adorably.
"There's a first time for everything." I grin.
I could only guess that she's never been to The Library, the local night club that's popular amongst the college crowd. Which is exactly why I want to be the first one to take her.
She shakes her head again. "That library's not really my scene," she admits, her nose crinkling adorably.
"And you think this library is my scene?" I tease with a playful grin. "Come on, Finch, it'll be fun," I try to coax her.
She gives me a tentative look, anxiously nibbling at the corner of her bottom lip.
Damn, those lips...
"You'd have to get nearly a perfect score in order for that to happen," she says.
"Fin—" I being, planning to persuade her, but she holds up her hand, silencing me.
"A ninety percent or above."
"A B+," I counter, knowing there's no way in hell I'll be able to pull off an A.
She shakes her head. Now she's the one leaning back in her chair, arms folded over her chest, looking uncompromising. "I'll accept nothing less than an A."
I mull it over, trying to think of some sort of compromise, but she doesn't look like she's going to budge.
I lean over the table, ducking my head low to meet her honey colored eyes. "You know, you're pretty sexy when you take charge."
Flustered by my boldness, I see her authoritative mask slip for a moment. But she composes herself by sitting up straighter, her folded arms tightening across her chest. "Those are my terms," she says with finality, only the tiniest nervous wobble detected in her voice.
I grin, leaning back and getting more comfortable in my chair. "You drive a very hard bargain, Finch. You must really not want to go with me."
I watch her features soften a fraction, a look of guilt flashing across her face. "It's not that," she mutters so low I almost don't hear her.
Damn, now I kind of feel like a jackass for making her feel bad. I only meant it as a semi-joke.
Before I can ask her what it is like, my phone begins ringing in my pocket and I quickly grab for it, silencing the ringer. I glance at the screen, mentally groaning. This is the third time I've gotten this call in the past week, so I know something must be up. I just don't have the time or the mental capacity to deal with it right now.
Stuffing my phone back into my pocket, I look up at Olivia. "Like I said, Finch, you drive a hard bargain, but I'll have you know I thrive under pressure. And with the stakes this high," I let out a low whistle, "I may even score a one hundred."
That seems to put a tiny smile on her face.
"I'm going to have to work my ass off in order to score that grade," I admit. "So I guess I'll have to spend even more time with my tutor," I say, giving her a hopeful, lopsided grin.
She bites back a smile, sitting up straight in her chair, flipping a page of her textbook. "I think she can squeeze you in her schedule."