Page 4 of The Surprise Play (Nolan U Football #3)

“It was a great setup.” He sighs wistfully. “Such a bummer he can’t keep going this year, you know? But…” His gaze darts back to my face, his dimpled smile coming in to full effect as his voice drops to a flirtatious, husky timbre. “Now I’ve got you.”

I stare at him for a beat, really soaking in what I assume is full-blown Wily Wilson charm.

It’s impressive, and I’m sure most girls would flutter their eyelashes, maybe blush a little.

I’m embarrassed to admit that a small part of me is tempted to do just that. My lips are daring me to twitch, my skin threatening to turn the shade of ripe tomatoes.

But thankfully, I manage to balk, this surprised cough shooting out of my mouth as I shake my head. “I’m not going to be doing the assignments for you.”

His smile disappears. Then his eyebrows dip together like he’s totally confused. “What do you mean?”

Seriously?

“I mean… how are you supposed to learn if I do all your work?”

There’s this weird pause, the silence between us feeling awkward as he slowly registers what I just said.

And then he laughs.

He laughs like I’m teasing him, swiping his hand through the air. “I’m not here to learn. I’m here to graduate . If I could play college ball without taking any classes, I would. I’m only doing this so Coach won’t ride me about my grades and Michelle will get off my back.”

Michelle?

Oh wait, is he talking about his academic adviser?

My eyebrows rise. “Ms. Bigsby has been on your back?”

“Not literally.” He tips his head, his eyebrows quirking like he’s now picturing the woman on his back, and ew… I don’t even want to know where his brain is going .

My insides heat and I huff, snatching his attention back when I shuffle in my seat and try to figure out what I’m gonna say next.

He glances at me, his smile effortless. “I just want to leave this place with some certificate that tells the world I’m a college graduate. I honestly do not care how I get it.”

“Then why bother?” The question pops out before I can stop it.

Seriously? Why am I engaging with this man? We’re obviously not a good tutoring fit.

His right shoulder hitches, and he lets out this soft laugh. “I don’t really know. I mean, the NFL’s gonna draft me, so maybe it doesn’t really matter.”

Of course it matters! I agree with his sister! He can’t waste nearly four years of education and not come out with something to show for it. Education is important. It’s meaningful.

I bite my lips together, giving myself a second to think. “So… football is it?”

“Yep. I’m gonna play offensive guard for one of the pro teams, and I’ll be set.”

“But…” I purse my lips and dare a glance at him. “What if you don’t get drafted?”

“I will.” He gives me a confident grin—not cocky, just extremely self-assured.

Huh, I wonder what that feels like.

I study his expression, then soften my voice. “Okay… well, what about after football? I mean, don’t you want a backup plan? Something you can do once your career is over? A college degree looks good on a résumé.”

He lets out a husky laugh. “I’m not gonna need one of those. I’ll be rich from playing football. When I retire, I can coach or do commentary. And my parents are already loaded, so…” His bottom lips sticks out like it’s no big deal, and any softening I was feeling disintegrates.

“Right.” I bulge my eyes. “So, you just want to live off Mommy and Daddy’s money, then?”

He snickers, then looks at me like I’m an odd duck. Like I’m crazy for not getting this.

And that’s me done. I cannot work with this man.

“Okay, well, um…” I scratch the side of my mouth. “I’m not sure this is going to be a very good setup for you, then, because if you work with me, I’ll be making you do your own assignments. I’m happy to support you and help you understand everything, but I won’t be doing the work on your behalf.”

He frowns again, his pen resuming a fast tap on the table as he studies me with an expression that I’d describe as mildly pissed off and desperately thoughtful. He’s trying to figure me out, find the perfect words to win me over, but it won’t work.

Thanks to guys like Peyton Feldman, I’ve learned my lesson. And I won’t be used again so this lazy ass can fly through his college courses and come out with a degree while I’m working my butt off on his assignment work, not to mention my own.

It’s not going to happen.

“I can pay you.” His tone is deep, assertive. “I’ll give you $100 more an hour on top of whatever you’re already getting.”

A hundred bucks? Holy crap! Does this guy sleep on a mattress of Benjamin Franklins or something?

Aw, man, that is so tempting, but…

I close my laptop and start packing my things away .

“What? You don’t want the money?”

Irritation sizzles through me, but I keep my expression impassive. I’m not about to escalate this growing tension.

With a calm, soft tone, I reply, “I wouldn’t be doing either of us any favors. I’m not letting you pass off my work as yours. How does that help you? And besides, it’s a form of cheating.”

“It’s not cheating, and it helps me by giving me a degree.” His voice takes on a snappy edge.

My insides bunch, my skin starting to crawl in earnest as I drag my laptop off the table and slip it into my bag.

I should just get up and go. That’s the best way to deal with these kinds of people, right?

But for some stupid reason, I look across at him and feel compelled to argue back. “It’d be a degree you haven’t earned. It’s a waste of your time handing in work that isn’t yours. You’re not learning anything.”

“Well, maybe I’m not smart enough to learn anything!” His voice rises, and the person sitting behind us slaps his book closed with a huff, throwing us a hot glare before stalking away from his table and muttering something about how libraries being a place of peace and quiet is complete horseshit.

I wince over my shoulder and mumble a soft apology that he doesn’t hear. Turning back to Wily, who now has his arms crossed and is quietly fuming, I softly murmur, “Everyone is smart enough to learn something. You’re just being lazy paying someone else to do your work.”

His eyebrows dip into a sharp V, like I’ve highly offended him.

I swallow, glancing away and scratching my itchy stomach. “Look, I’m sorry, but if you want that setup, you’ll just have to find someone else.” I stand from the table, but he snatches my wrist before I can take off.

“But I can’t find anyone else.” His voice spikes with obvious desperation.

“Please. I have an assignment due on Monday, and I’ve already been given a huge extension.

I won’t get another one. If I don’t get at least a C, I’m gonna fail that course, and then I can’t graduate.

I’m hanging by a thread here. Just help me out with this one thing; then you can quit, and I’ll find someone else to get me through the rest of the semester. ”

I glance down at his hand still clutching my wrist, then take in his crumpled, pleading expression.

Huh, looks like he really does want a college degree after all.

Guilt swirls inside me, and I end up muttering a soft “Okay, fine.”

What? No. It’s not fine. Walk away now!

But I don’t. I sit my butt back in my chair and point at his pile of papers. “What have you got so far?”

He shuffles through the pages and eventually unearths a crinkled assignment sheet. I give him a baleful stare, and his sheepish smile is… okay, it’s mildly cute.

Snapping my gaze away from it, I skim through the instructions.

He has to analyze a key character from Moby Dick and discuss how the lessons learned through that character’s journey can be applied in today’s modern society.

He also needs to include personal, relatable stories to really show the human connection and that he fully understands what motivated the character to behave the way he did.

Easy. I’m pretty sure I did an assignment just like this in high school. I can’t believe this is something for a college senior, but I guess he’s been selecting the easiest courses he can.

“Okay.” I bob my head, then look at the rest of the pages he’s leaning his forearm on. “So, what have you done so far?”

“Nothing.”

I whip my head back, blinking at him. “Nothing?”

He shakes his head, looking completely unabashed by this.

What is wrong with this man?

“It’s… it’s due in less than a week,” I sputter, having internal conniptions at the idea of trying to complete an assignment like this in such a short timeframe. “Have you even read the book?”

His bottom lip pokes out as he shakes his head again. Then he grins at me. “I bet you’ve read the book, though. An old classic like that is probably on your bookshelf already, amiright?” He winks.

I recoil from that flirtatious smile of his.

He doesn’t seem fazed, dialing it up to full beam as he leans toward me. “So, you think you can help me out?”

My lips part—it’s impossible not to gape at this guy. He’s expecting me to help him work on an assignment for a book he hasn’t even read that’s due on Monday?

Forget it!

Shaking my head, I stand from my chair. “I can’t help you.”

“Oh, come on. I’ll do anything. Buy you anything. Pay you anything.”

“I don’t want your money,” I hiss in desperation. “I can’t help you, okay? I won’t. It’s not worth the stress. ”

Hitching my bag, I spin on my heel, crossing my arms and getting away from Wily Wilson as fast as I can.

I don’t need some jock completely doing my head in days before my next semester starts. Like I want that kind of aggravation in my life.

He’s just going to have to cope on his own.

And yes, I feel a little bad about that, but he seems charming.

I’m sure he can talk someone else into doing his work for him.

He’ll probably find some gullible little freshman, flash his pearly whites at her, and she’ll be eating out of his palm by the end of the weekend, handing him a beautifully crafted essay so he can get a degree he doesn’t deserve.

Honestly!

I have better things to do with my time.