Playing Hard to Get (The Players)

THE WEEKEND GOES by in a blur of work, writing two papers and hanging out with Natalie and a group of our friends Saturday night for dinner. Sunday is for laundry and cleaning up around the apartment. Monday is just…your typical Monday, and by the time Tuesday rolls around, I’m once again a nervous wreck.

Stupid Knox Maguire choosing me as his tutor. I lied to him about having another tutoring session. I just wanted to get out of there and away from him and his muscles and charm and his smile. I should back out. Say my schedule doesn’t align with his after all, and that he’ll need to find another tutor to help him. He’d understand, I’m sure.

Of course, I do none of those things, and by the time it’s the afternoon, fifteen minutes before two, I’m sitting in our reserved room, reading over the notes I made about him on my iPad, anxiously checking the door every few seconds like he’s going to show up early.

Much to my surprise, he strides into the room ten minutes early. He stops on the other side of the table, dropping his heavy backpack on the table with a loud thunk before unzipping it.

So far he hasn’t said a word and neither have I, which gives me time to watch him. He’s wearing a long-sleeved white T-shirt and black shorts, even though there’s a chill in the air. Oh, and he’s wearing a white baseball cap backwards, his hair sticking out in wayward curls at his nape.

I sink my teeth into my lower lip, unable to look away from his curling hair. The backwards hat on—it’s a total weakness of mine. I used to love it when Bryan wore a hat like that. He played baseball during high school and I wasted a lot of time sitting in the stands, watching him.

God, baseball is so boring.

“Jo Jo, what’s up?”

I snap my attention back to Knox, meeting his gaze, his brow furrowed as he watches me. “Oh. Hey.”

“You all right there? I called your name three times.”

That’s embarrassing. “My name isn’t Jo Jo.” I sit up straighter.

“I said Joanna the first two times, not Jo Jo.”

“Oh. Sorry about that.” I clear my throat. “How was your weekend?”

“Good.” He pulls out the chair across from mine and settles in, his knees bumping mine, making me shift to the side. “We won.”

“I heard.” It’s hard to avoid all of the conversations about the game while on campus. “You scored a touchdown.”

He grins and I blink, momentarily dazzled. “You watched the game?”

I shake my head. “I don’t like football, remember?”

“Right.” He stretches out the word, dropping the paperback onto the middle of the table. “I listened to the chapters we were assigned during the ride back from the game Saturday night. You were correct—it’s a lot easier, listening to the audiobook. I feel like I understand it better when someone else reads it to me.”

Pride suffuses me and I smile at him. “I’m glad it helped.”

“It totally did. I have an assignment due Thursday. I need to come up with an opening paragraph for an essay,” he says.

“What’s the essay about?”

“We’re supposed to answer a question.” He flips open a notebook and clears his throat. “Discuss the differences between Starr’s two lives. How does she reconcile her two identities over the course of the novel?”

I’m frowning. “But you haven’t finished the novel yet.”

“She only wants a first paragraph, like with the thesis question. She said we can figure that out without reading the entire book yet.”

“Okay. Maybe we should discuss some of the themes the novel explores.”

We do exactly that and I’m quietly impressed with Knox’s assessment of the book. For someone who claims he’s terrible at English and doesn’t comprehend much, he’s doing a terrific job talking about the book and debating the subject matter.

He keeps distracting me though. He’ll stretch his leg out, his foot nudging against mine almost on purpose. I pull away every time it happens, outwardly not reacting, but eventually, I give in. I keep my leg in place, his foot gently hitting mine before resting next to it. I’m wearing a dress—fine, I wore something nicer than usual for my meeting with Knox—and at one point, I feel his bare leg brush against mine, the curling hairs tickling my skin.

I still don’t move, but I do go quiet, glancing down at my iPad and making a few notes that make no sense before I lift my gaze to Knox.

To find him already watching me, his body completely still, his warm leg practically wrapped around mine.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, not moving. Not sounding even one bit sorry.

I very carefully, very purposely, place my shoe on top of his and press down. “You’re invading my space.”

“I tend to do that sometimes.” He shrugs. “I don’t mean to, but I kind of spread out without knowing I’m doing it.”

“You are tall.” I say this like it’s an excuse, and his eyes warm. “And…long.”

“Long, huh?” He slips his foot out from underneath mine, then hooks his calf around my leg. We’re suddenly playing a slightly aggressive game of footsie and I’m seriously confused right now.

“Long legs,” I correct, untangling my leg from his. “And we need to finish our discussion.”

He glances at the clock on the wall behind my head. “We still have thirty-five minutes to go.”

“Then let’s wrap it up and start working on writing your first paragraph,” I suggest, my voice weak.

“Yeah, you’re right. We should definitely work on the paragraph.” He sits up straighter, reaching out to tap his index finger on top of my hand. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Done what?” I’m weak over him barely touching my hand. I’ve got serious problems when it comes to this man.

“You know. And it’s been a while since I’ve…flirted with a woman,” he explains.

“Oh, is that what you were doing? Flirting with me with the leg thing?” I blink at him, trying to keep my expression serious. “I couldn’t tell.”

Knox leans back in his chair with a groan, scrubbing his hand along his jaw. “Damn. Am I that rusty?”

I smile. So does he. “It hasn’t been that long since you’ve become celibate,” I remind him.

“I haven’t had sex in two months.”

Wait, what?

Everything comes to a screeching halt at his confession.

He nods. “Wild, right?”

I hate that he just told me that. I hate that I now have a vision in my head of Knox Maguire naked. Touching someone. Kissing someone.

Touching me. Kissing me.

“That’s…a long time.” I don’t know what to say to that. I’ve gone longer.

I’m going longer as we speak.

“It is for me.” He drums his fingers on the tabletop. “How about for you?”

I frown, my brows drawing together. “How is this conversation relevant to what we’re working on…”

“Right, right. Sorry. Getting too personal. Let’s work on the paragraph.” He reaches for his backpack, pulling out a laptop, and I take the moment to compose myself, obliterating all the thoughts his words and questions brought forth in my mind.

I’m not here to talk about sex and relationship stuff with Knox Maguire. I’m his tutor and he’s my student. We need to talk about his assignment and work on the paragraph.

That’s it.

Knox taps slowly on his keyboard, rattling off what he wants to say while getting it down. I correct him on a few points. Guide him with the solid suggestions he makes. He’s definitely not dumb, though I never actually thought he was. He just needs a little help.

Eventually, I take a look at the sentences he’s written and make a few more suggestions. Until we have a fairly decent first paragraph put together for his assignment.

“You think she’ll approve?” Knox reads over the paragraph yet again, absently taking off his hat so he can run his fingers through his messy hair before he tosses the hat on the table.

My fingers itch to do the same, but I restrain myself, clutching my hands together in my lap.

“I’m sure she will. The first paragraph is the easiest part. But then you’ll have to write her an entire paper,” I remind him.

The face he makes is full of misery. “Don’t remind me.”

“Hey, you’ve totally got this.” Now it’s my turn to tap the top of his hand with my index finger. “Don’t worry.”

Before I can move my hand away, he turns his palm up, capturing my fingers with his own. “You’re a big help to me, Jo Jo. I really appreciate it.”

I’ve never had a student I’m helping purposely touch me so much before.

“Aren’t you supposed to be practicing celibacy, Maguire?” I’m trying to make it sound like a joke, but it comes out dead serious instead.

His green eyes linger on mine. “I’m just holding your hand. Not trying to get in your panties.”

I snatch my hand away from his, uncomfortable. More with the way his words make me feel versus the fact that they’re mildly inappropriate.

He keeps talking to me like that, I’ll want him to never stop. Until I’m the one doing inappropriate things with him and actually enjoying it.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.” He starts packing up all of his stuff, shoving everything into his backpack. I note the time on my iPad, seeing that we still have twelve minutes left, but I guess he’s done. “I don’t know why I’m acting like this.”

I watch him gathering his things, not saying a word. Unsure of what I could even say to ease the sudden tension that’s filled the room. He’s mad, but I know it’s not with me.

More like he’s angry at himself.

When he’s finished, he zips his backpack closed and slings it over his shoulder, standing in front of me with a tight jaw and thin lips. “I’m sorry. If you want to dump me as your student, I understand.”

I slowly rise to my feet, gathering my own things with efficiency and placing them in my backpack. He remains in place, stiff as can be, and when I finally give him my full attention, I can’t help but feel the tiniest bit sorry for him.

“I’m not mad,” I say softly.

He nods, working his jaw.

“I get what you’re saying,” I continue.

His gaze flits to mine. “You do?” He sounds shocked.

“Well…yeah. It’s been a long time for me too.” I crack a smile, trying to make him feel better. “I’m basically celibate like you.”

His brows draw together. “Why?” He shakes his head once, muttering under his breath, “Don’t answer that. It’s none of my business.”

“It’s fine.” He really needs to lighten up. “My boyfriend and I broke up over the summer.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” I shrug one shoulder. “He was cheating on me.”

His expression turns ferocious. “What an asshole.”

“Yep.” I enthusiastically nod my agreement.

“Where is he? I can kick his ass if you want me to.”

From the fierceness of his tone, I believe he would actually do that for me. Lucky for Bryan, he’s not on campus.

“That won’t be necessary. He doesn’t go here.”

“You were in a long-distance relationship?”

“Yeah, during the entire time we’ve been in college.”

“Whoa.” He rears back a little. “That must’ve been hard.”

“Extremely difficult. We went months without seeing each other sometimes. It was tough.”

“So you haven’t had sex for months.” He whistles low. Love how he refocuses on that fact. “Unless you’ve been hooking—”

“No hookups.” I wrinkle my nose. “I wasn’t ready yet.”

“Still not ready?”

“Probably not.” Maybe not? I don’t know.

I do know this man tempts me, though.

“Yeah.” He reaches for the hat he left on the table, shoving it on his head. Backwards yet again and I get a little lost in how cute he is. Why do men look so appealing wearing their hats like that? “That’s pretty understandable.”

“You think so?”

“Well, sure.” He makes a face, like he has no idea what he’s talking about.

I burst out laughing. “No, Knox. I really don’t think you do.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “How long were you two together?”

“Since the end of our senior year in high school. So almost three years.”

“Wow, that’s a long time.”

“But the amount of time we actually saw each other wasn’t that much. It was very much an online relationship.”

Knox frowns. “What do you mean?”

“We texted all the time. Talked on FaceTime. Sometimes on the phone. When we saw each other, it was usually only during breaks or special occasions. Birthdays, Valentine’s Day—though that was a stretch. Last winter break, I stayed on campus for most of it because of my job at the bookstore.”

“I can’t imagine having a relationship like that.”

“Never again,” I agree. “Next guy I end up with, he’s at least going to live in the same city as I do. And we’ll see each other all the time. Spend lots of time together.”

I think back on my relationship with Bryan, how we weren’t together much. How our sex life was kind of lackluster. At first, it was all fiery passion, and we couldn’t get enough of each other. We were teenage horn dogs, sneaking around the entire summer after we graduated high school. I was scared to lose him, desperate to keep him interested, and willing to do just about anything to make him want me all the time.

Once he went away to college, the passion cooled. The last time I saw him—prior to our breakup—I can’t remember if we had sex. I’m pretty sure we didn’t.

I don’t recall us even kissing.

“I haven’t been in a real relationship since high school.” His smile is faint. “And even then, it wasn’t much, you know? Never that serious.”

“You don’t do serious?”

“Not really.” He smothers a laugh with his fingers, rubbing his hand across his mouth. “I can’t believe I’m talking about my sex life with my tutor.”

“Hey, everything that happens in this room stays in this room, remember?”

His gaze turns heated the longer he stares at me. As if he’s having all sorts of dirty thoughts and they all star…me. “How could I forget?”