Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Topher tilted the screen on his laptop and reached for his water. “I was just reminding myself to do a little research.”
“On Beowulf. Hmm. Well, that’s not necessary. Leave the notes for now, and let’s just talk.”
“Talk,” he repeated. “I can’t do that. I mean, I can talk, of course, but not to you. Not about anything casual, anyway. We’re not friends and—”
“Bullet to the heart,” I chided, nudging his elbow off the island playfully. “Like I said, if you’re friends with George, you can be friends with me. And unlike him, I’m paying you for the honor.”
He inhaled deeply and turned to face me. “I mean no disrespect, Simon, but I can’t be your friend. This is a professional arrangement only. I can’t discuss anything beyond psychology, humanities, calculus, and anthropology with you.”
I furrowed my brow. “Why not?”
He didn’t reply at first. In fact, he looked a little ill. I noted the bead of sweat on his upper lip and the slight tremble in the hand hovering over his keyboard before he snatched it away, wiping his palm on his khakis.
“Because adding a social component would take valuable time from your studies. You’re not paying me to talk about anything other than schoolwork.”
I felt like I’d had my hand smacked just for staring at a cookie jar. I swished the burgundy liquid in my glass, eyeing him over the rim as I sipped. I should have left well enough alone. I wondered if I made him anxious or if he was nervous about taking on a bigger job than he’d planned. Either way, we had a potential problem here. He didn’t want to socialize, and I was on the brink of insanity from lack of human interaction…among other things. If we were going to spend any time together, he had to speak to me, or I’d go nuts.
“I’ll pay you extra.”
Topher glanced sideways. “For what?”
“To be my friend.”
He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “I don’t think, um…let’s take a peek at the syllabi for your classes and come up with a schedule. You’re taking online courses, correct?”
“Yeah. They all seem pretty straightforward, except for calculus. That one is a foreign language to me. I looked at that textbook online and it was fucking terrifying. Numbers and letters all mixed up with an equal sign at the end…like it’s supposed to mean something.”
“It always means something. Numbers don’t lie,” he insisted, looking slightly agitated.
“They do when they’re mixed with letters,” I quipped with a laugh.
I silenced the buzz on my phone, then set a comforting hand on his shoulder on my way to the oven. Sadly, my touch didn’t have the soothing powers I’d hoped.
Topher jumped a mile in his seat and turned a bright shade of pink, lowering his face as he feverishly typed fuck knows what on his computer.
Wow. What the hell was wrong here?
I slipped an oven mitt on like a boxing glove and gave my best impression of a concerned cook checking out a culinary masterpiece. I surreptitiously sneaked a peek at my guest as I pulled the cookie sheets out, wondering what I’d done to set him off. He seemed perfectly fine when we were talking about—
“So…Beowulf. What do you know about him?” I asked, laying the pizzas on a giant cutting board on the island.
“Not much. But like I said, research is no problem. Are you supposed to write an essay or do a character study or an analysis of some sort?”
His voice was steady again. Geez, if Beowulf didn’t scare him, it had to be me.
Huh.
“Maybe.” I tossed the mitt on the counter and grabbed the pizza cutter from a nearby drawer. “I don’t know. I’ll pull up the…what did you call it?—syllabi…in a second. Pizza first.”
I served us both a slice of each kind of pizza and grabbed napkins, silverware, parmesan, and chili flakes. I pushed everything to the middle of the giant marble island along with the bottle of wine. I moved to my seat and topped off my glass, adding a bit more to Topher’s too, even though I could tell he hadn’t taken a sip yet. Then I slid a plate his way and gestured for him to help himself to the cheese or whatever else he might want.
“Thanks. You know, if you give me access to your student portal, I can keep track of your assignments and—”
“Topher…”
“It would make both of our lives easier and probably be more cost-effective for you.”
“I don’t care about money,” I said around a mouthful of food. “Eat up. This is tasty, but it won’t be as good when it’s cold.”
He flashed an anxious sideways smile and took a mouse-sized nibble. “Mmm, that’s delicious.”
I washed down my pizza with a healthy swig of wine, nudging his knee as I swiveled to face him. “Are you okay?”