Page 12 of Breaking the Ice
I take copious notes and pay attention during the lecture—partly for myself but also in case I have to re-teach it to Evan later in tutoring. I steal glances at him out of the corner of my eye, though, and his head is bent over his paper. He stays focused the whole time or at least makes a good show of it.
When Dr. Burns ends class, Evan stands and stretches, showing off those abs that make me drool. To distract myself, I snatch his notes off his desk.
“Huh.” I study his paper, narrowing my eyes. “It’s weird, but I don’t remember covering hockey plays during the lesson.”
Evan shrugs. “Look, I tried. And I had to do something to stay awake.”
“No.” I jab my finger into his bicep, encountering rock-hard muscles. “You could have, I don’t know, written down the practice problems or the things the professor said.”
“Nah, that’s what I have you for.” He slings an arm around my shoulders and starts waking us out of class, but I plant my feet and shove him off, blood boiling. Why does he get under my skin like this?
“Absolutely not.” I hate that my voice shakes, but I’m seeing red. “I’m not your crutch, not here to do this for you because you are too lazy to do it yourself. I’m not going to keep tutoring someone who’s not smart enough to listen to the damn professor explain things. Waste of my time.”
I’m still muttering as I brush past him, but he grabs my arm, halting my progress.
“Bella, wait.” Chagrined, his mouth opens and shuts like a dying fish. I hate that he still looks hot. “I—you’re right. I tried to listen and take notes but it’s just like noise buzzing in my brain when he talks.” He swallows. “But that’s no excuse. I could have tried harder. I need to try harder. Everything’s on the line. I promise if you meet with me tonight, I’ll do better.”
My rage drains away, as usual. My mom always says I have a firecracker temper—quick to go off but just as short-lived. Because as pissed as his attitude made me, being quick to apologize and admit that he’s wrong goes a long way to mollify me.
Doesn’t mean I should let him know that, though.
I cross my arms over my chest. “Prove it.”
Evan’s eyes dart left and then right. “By, like, showing up and giving it my best?”
“Yeah. Tonight for tutoring and in class next time. Bring your own materials, too.”
He sighs, then holds out his hand for a shake. “You drive a hard bargain.”
“No, I don’t. This is literally, like, the bare minimum of college.”
Grabbing my unoffered hand, he forces me into a complex handshake ritual, complete with snaps, peace signs, and is that a butterfly? I keep my shiver at his touch to myself.
“Oh, Isabella,” he says. “You have so much to learn about the bare minimum.”
“No, thank you.” Snorting, I brush away his fingers, trying to make me do one last fist bump. “I still think you owe me.”
I smirk at him, and—oh god, am I flirting? Does he notice?
His eyes light up, and my stomach feels warm and tingly.
“I promise I’ll do better.” He clears his throat. “And make it worth your while.”
His words aren’t sexual. But why does my body wish they were?
Chapter
Six
EVAN
Isabella: The library is closed.
Evan: I swear, I’m on my way.
Evan: And I have like 5 minutes until I’m late, anyway.
Isabella: No, it’s literally closed. Something with the power grid. They don’t have electricity. I got there early and there’s a sign on the door.
