Page 17 of The Surprise Play (Nolan U Football #3)

WILY

“So, yeah, when a space opened up, I snatched it. I took the place of the previous senior, and then the other guys joined us over the rest of that year. Then Tyrell moved in at the beginning of our junior year. It’s been a good crew.”

“Do you all get along?” Satch is fidgeting with the buttons of her coat while we ride the elevator up to the third floor.

“Yeah. I mean, there’s the odd moment. Carson’s got a bit of a temper on him, but he’s getting better. And Grady gets pissed off with how messy everyone is sometimes.” I laugh, picturing Grady’s irritation.

“Hanging up towels—it’s not a new concept, people! And get your shit off the coffee table. It’s not a trash receptacle!”

Who the fuck says receptacle anyway?

Grady does.

I snicker to myself, glancing down at Satch, who’s gnawing on her lip.

Is she nervous or something ?

Oh shit, maybe she doesn’t want me going to her room. Will we have to leave the door open again?

Shoving my hands into my pockets, I swivel to check on her. She’s so short, her head barely reaches my shoulder as she fidgets beside me. “You’re cool with this, right? Studying in your room?”

“Uh…” She glances up, notices that I’m looking down at her, and quickly darts her eyes back to the floor. “Yeah, of course.”

And she’s lying. Just like she lied about not feeling well because she didn’t want to get in the way of me talking to that chick.

I shake my head but offer up a simple solution. “We can go to the library instead, if you want.”

“No, it’s fine, really. We’ll get fewer interruptions here.”

“You won’t have your dorm buddies popping in?” My lips twitch as I wait for her to look up at me again.

But she doesn’t play fair, her eyes staying glued to the floor. I join her, noticing the marked difference between her tiny black shoes and my big sneakers. Shit. It’s like I’ve got clown feet compared to hers.

Her head shakes as she mumbles a soft “No.”

And there goes that surge of concern again.

“You do… have friends, right?”

“Uh-huh.” She answers too fast, nodding as she focuses her gaze on the elevator doors.

I shift, trying to get into her line of sight. “Satch, are you?—”

“Here we are.” The doors pop open, and she flashes me a quick smile before darting past me and into the hallway .

I follow after her, wondering what the story is with this girl.

She’s sweet. A great tutor. Kind of shy and unsure of herself, but why would that make her friendless?

Everybody needs somebody, right?

I hate the idea of her wandering campus with absolutely no one to hang out with.

I couldn’t cope with that kind of shit. People make life worth living. I have to be around them. If anything, being by myself drives me insane. I get antsy when I’m alone. Which is why I make sure I can be friends with everybody.

Satch seems the exact opposite, and I don’t get how she could possibly be happy living this solo life. It must be so quiet and boring.

“This is my room,” she murmurs, unlocking the door and glancing at me with an edgy, closed-mouth smile.

Why is she so nervous?

I’m not about to jump her.

Seriously. What kind of man does she think I am?

The kind that mentally undresses women.

Shit, why the fuck did I admit that to her?

“Um… come in.” Satch beckons me with her hand, and I step into her room, eyeing it up with a quickly growing smile.

Wow.

It’s so neat.

Grady would love it.

Her bed is made, the cover pulled tight and crisp. Bet she does those special corner things my mom loves. She always insists that our housekeepers know how to make a bed properly .

“Imagine this is a luxury resort. I want the beds made the way you would if you worked there. And if you could fold the toilet paper into a little triangle, I’d love that too.”

I remember one housekeeper asked if she wanted a swan towel on the end of the bed each day as well, and Mom gave her a confused frown, totally missing the sarcastic quip and asking, “Why would I want a swan towel?”

Wincing behind my mother’s back, I made a face that had the housekeeper smiling, and then I winked at her before walking out of the room.

Our various housekeepers have been pretty accommodating over the years. Mom is always so warm and friendly, and she pays them really well, so the staff we’ve had have mostly been loyal and hardworking.

Satch places her bag down, and I bet it’s in the same spot it always goes. I grin and scan the movie posters on her wall. They’re all framed and are retro images from the ’50s and ’60s, I think.

Singin’ in the Rain , The Sound of Music , and Bye Bye Birdie.

I’ve heard of the first two, but I have no idea what that last one is.

Letting my bag slide off my shoulder, I dump it on her bed before pointing to the door behind me. “Open or shut?”

“Oh, uh…” She eyes the door, then the hallway beyond like she’s actually having to think about this.

Seriously?

“You can… shut it.” She spins away, pulling out her laptop and setting it up on her neat little desk .

It’s got hardly any clutter on it. Just a mug of pens and highlighters and a few books stacked in a neat pile.

Closing the blinds, she then reaches behind her desk and pulls out a stool. “Sorry, I don’t have two chairs.”

She indicates for me to take her plush office chair and goes to take a seat on the stool.

“No way,” I quickly tell her, grabbing her arm and making her stand back up again. “I’m taking the stool.”

She blinks, like the idea of taking her own chair hadn’t even occurred to her.

“This is your room,” I remind her, then start to smile. “You get to sit in your own chair.”

“But you’re my guest. You should have the nice chair.”

I make a “Pshh” sound and shake my head before shrugging my jacket off and dumping it beside my bag.

Satch watches me for a second, then slowly unbuttons her winter coat. She wrestles it off, then hangs it on the hook behind the door before pulling her cardigan straight and shuffling toward the desk.

Eyeing me one more time, she inches toward the stool, and I quickly sit on it before she can even think about being some kind of martyr for me.

Does she have any idea how much she’s helping me?

Like I’m gonna make her take the fucking stool.

“Sit down,” I softly coax her, adding in a smile while I open her laptop and get us back on track.

With a resigned little sigh, she takes a seat and starts reading what we were working on before she bolted to the bathroom.

I’m still confused by her behavior. And the fact that she tried to sneak off because I was flirting with some chick. And now I’m wondering why she’s giving me the impression that she has no friends.

Why wouldn’t someone want to hang with her? She’s smart, kind, thoughtful.

Sure, she doesn’t dress in the usual way… My eyes skim down her body, and I swear everything she’s wearing looks homemade.

Obviously sensing my perusal, she glances at me, and my eyes quickly jump to her laptop screen. “So… Ahab.”

“Yeah. You’ve just finished giving me your third point paragraph, and now we have to find a quote or example from the book to back up your thoughts on the fact that Ahab’s relentless determination, which society would normally think of as a strength, is actually his weakness.

” Her bright gaze lands on me, all hopeful and expectant.

“Can you think of a situation in the book which proves that?”

I scramble to come up with a good one, because I want her to give me that proud smile. The one that says, “Yes! You’re getting this!”

“Well…” I scratch the side of my face. “There’s the fact that he ignored the crew’s warnings.”

“Yeah.” Satch nods. “But you’ve kind of used that as an example in paragraph two. It’d be great to think of something else.”

I can tell there’s an answer she’s looking for, and damn, I want to deliver like a fucking boss. But my brain’s gone blank, like it always fucking does. I hate that I can’t come up with simple answers the way everyone else can.

“Um…” I blink and, in the end, have to shrug, because shit, I haven’t even read the book, and I can’t remember all of the stuff she read me from SparkNotes .

Shit!

I slump, tapping my knuckles on her desk before snatching a pen out of her mug and playing with the cap. I pop it on and off, hoping it’ll help restart my brain.

Satch’s lips twitch, and she changes screens. “Let’s have a look at the text.”

Bringing up the book, we read the page together. Then she starts hinting at a particular section until I finally come up with “Oh wait! In the final part, he’s completely reckless, and it ends up sinking the ship… and it kills him and basically all his crew.”

And why the fuck I didn’t come up with that immediately is so fucking embarrassing.

It’s the most obvious answer, and my stupid brain had tucked it out of sight like it was worthless.

“Excellent.” Satch grins at me. “I like that you used the word reckless , because it describes his actions perfectly.” She leans closer to the screen while my chest puffs with just a touch of pride.

Seriously. I came up with one little word, and she’s making me feel like a fucking genius.

“Okay, so let’s put that in your own words, then use an actual line from the book.

We can tie that back into your flag football example if you like, unless you have another one we can use to really drive your point home about reckless behavior and how it can affect everyone around you in a negative way. ”

She makes me work for it, scouring the text and finding a line I can use. The smile she gives me punches right through my fucking chest. She’s so happy with me. Proud of me, even, and I’m not sure I deserve it.

But damn, it makes me feel good .

I then run through a football example, which she helps me word in a way that makes sense, and before I know it…

“All we’ve got left is the conclusion.” She looks excited, and I start worrying that I’ll have no idea how to wrap this shit up, but she talks me through it, typing down my words and refining them. She doesn’t just change them; she pauses and questions me until I come up with something better.

I’ve never had a tutor go to this much effort before. It’s fucking amazing!

By the time we’re done, it’s one-thirty in the morning, and Satch is fighting a yawn.

“I’ll print this out and proof it in the morning,” she says. “I want to come at it with fresh eyes, and I really need some sleep first.”

“Okay, cool.” I stand, hitching my jeans. “I’ll swing by here in the morning, and we can make any last-minute changes before handing it in.”

“Sounds good to me.” She stands up, her arm brushing against mine as she maneuvers the chair back into place.

My finger ducks out, skimming over the back of her hand, and for some reason, I do it again, holding my fingers over her soft skin. My thumb ever so gently curls around her wrist and…

What am I doing?

She goes still, staring up at me with these vulnerable eyes that are so big and, I don’t know… endearing? I think that’s a word.

I don’t know why I’m touching her, so I let go, unable to ignore her surprised expression. “Thanks for everything, Satch.” My voice comes out all soft and husky. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Her cheeks tinge a pretty pink, and she dips her head. “It’s no problem. You’ve done really well. You deserve a good grade for this.”

“Only because of you.”

She shakes her head. “You’ve worked really hard, and I’ll make sure Professor Pilscher knows it.”

With a grateful nod, I grab my stuff and head out the door, pausing one last time to look at her. The soft light from her desk illuminates the side of her round cheek, and in that glow she looks… I don’t know, really pretty. I smile at her. “Good night, Satch.”

She bites her bottom lip but can’t stop her grin. “Good night, Wily.”