Page 13

Tucker

Grinding my teeth, I stare at the computer screen, furious with Sam. “She gave me a D,” I tell Trent, who’s sitting on his bed.

“Did you study?” Trent’s tone is accusatory, mocking even, because he damn well knows I didn’t have time to study.

“Yeah, I studied. She has it out for me.”

He cocks an eyebrow at me, glancing up from his phone. “Who?”

“The teaching assistant. We fucked at a party, and now she hates me.”

Trent laughs and continues typing a message to Jemma. That’s all he does anymore. Sit on his phone and talk to his girl. “You must not have fucked her good enough.”

“She was a virgin,” I confess. “I didn’t know.”

He makes a face as if thinking over what I just said. “You need to fix it. Smooth things over with her.”

I snort. “Nothing will work on this girl. She hates me.”

But she let me get close enough to touch her leg on the first day of class. She can’t hate me that much. Not when she didn’t even try to push me away.

“Maybe it’s your approach,” he counters. “Hey, baby, want to see my stick-handling skills won’t win her over.”

I laugh. “Fuck you! I don’t say that to girls.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Time to switch up the game,” I mutter, considering his comment. “How do I do that?”

“Find out what she likes. Start there.”

“She works at Broad Street Beans, so I guess she likes coffee.”

“Just because she works there doesn’t mean she likes coffee, you idiot.” He shakes his head and sets his phone down on the bed. “Her screen name on Strick Net is Heir of Slytherin, right?”

I nod, not following his train of thought. “So? What’s that got to do with anything?”

He cocks an eyebrow at me. “As in Harry Potter.”

“Still not following, bro.”

He sighs. “How have you never seen a Harry Potter movie? She’s a fan or wouldn’t have chosen that as her screen name.”

“And?”

I still don’t get it.

“You could shock her by learning about the books. It would give you something to talk about other than the past.”

“Is that what you did with Jemma?”

He shrugs. “It’s easier with Jemma. We click. But you’re at a disadvantage. Sam likes books. She’s smart, obviously, and you’re a fucking idiot who won’t even open a book to pass a class on your own.”

“Hey, I passed Business Law last semester on my own.”

“Barely,” he growls. “A C- isn’t something to brag about.”

“Still a passing grade at Strick U,” I remind him.

“Have you ever considered what you’ll do if you don’t make it pro? You need a backup plan, Tuck.”

I laugh. “Like you have one.”

“I do,” he challenges. “I have straight As. I’m graduating with honors. So are Preston and Jamie. Even Drake is doing more than just passing, and he’s as hopeless as you.”

“Fine,” I grunt. “I’ll learn about this Harry Potter shit.”

His phone rings, and he ignores me to answer the message.

My brother is right. For as long as I can remember, I’ve dreamed of becoming a professional hockey player like my dad. Nothing else mattered to me.

I swivel the chair back toward the computer screen and start doing my research. If I want to impress Sam, I need to put in the work.

After class ends, Professor Frazier exits the room through the side entrance, leaving Sam at the front by herself.

I wait in my seat until students shuffle into the hallway before making my way down the center aisle toward her.

She shifts in her chair, pen clasped in hand, hair tucked behind her ears.

I hate that she pretends I don’t exist. It drives me crazy, which makes me want her even more.

“Tom Marvolo Riddle…” I say, which catches her attention. Sam looks up at me, and I finish, “… is the Heir of Slytherin.”

“Lord Voldemort is my favorite villain ever written.” She smiles, a real one for once because she knows I’m talking about her screen name. “You’re a Harry Potter fan, too?”

I’m whatever you want me to be.

“Yeah,” I lie. “Huge Potterhead. Don’t look so surprised.”

“I didn’t think you even opened books, let alone read them.”

More like Googled them.

I still need to watch the movies. Otherwise, she’ll know I’m full of shit at some point. I have her attention now, and this time for the right reason. So, I need to keep going.

I drop my bag on her desk and press my hands to the wood, our mouths inches apart. This time, she doesn’t slide her chair back. She focuses on my lips, and I roll my tongue across my bottom lip when she does.

“Give me a chance,” I say. “I might surprise you.”

Her eyes shift to the back of the room for a second. “I already gave you a chance.”

“That was years ago. Under different circumstances.”

She chuckles. “And you think things are different between us now because you like the same books as me? That doesn’t change the past. I know better than anyone that people don’t change.”

“You’re wrong,” I counter, unzipping my bag.

Her eyes widen as I produce a green Slytherin coffee mug, holding it out for Sam to take. I bought it online, hoping she likes coffee. It’s nothing big, a gesture to show her I’m not a complete asshole and that I’m trying.

She looks confused. “Is this for me?”

I nod and set it in front of her on the desk. She touches the top of the box, her fingers carefully grazing the packaging.

She sighs. “I’m sorry, I can’t, Tucker.” Sam pushes the box toward me. “Even if I wanted to, I’m not allowed to accept a gift from a student. It would violate the University’s policy.”

“Then don’t look at it as a gift from a student. Think of it as one from a… friend.”

Her eyebrows rise slightly, a smirk slowly forming on her lips. “In what universe would we ever be friends?”

“There’s a double feature tomorrow night at the SAC,” I say. “I saw a poster about it earlier. They’re showing The Sorcerer’s Stone and The Chamber of Secrets back-to-back if you want to go with me.”

She stares at me, her expression unreadable. “You want me to go with you as a friend?”

“Yeah.” I slide the mug in front of her, and she glances down at it. “Friends give each other presents.”

She peeks up at me, unsure if I’m full of shit. I don’t blame her. Most of the time, I am. This time, though, I’m serious. I did my homework on Harry Potter for a reason—to prove to Sam I’m not an asshole. And to prove to everyone else that there’s more to Tucker Kane than hockey and women.

“Fine.” She grips the mug in her right hand. “I’ll go with you tomorrow. But as friends. Nothing more.”

I hold my hands up. “I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”

She smiles. “I’ll meet you there.”