Page 7 of The Sweetest Cruelty: Hudson (A Sawyer Brothers Story #1)

Lifting one of her delicate hands to her hair, she ran her fingers through it and explained, “Just for written work and stuff. I don't want to be lowballed if I write in British English and the spellings aren’t the same. I love English Literature, but am better with numbers, so I need all the help I can get.”

“So, you’re a math dweeb?”

She grinned so wide she got dimples, so fricking sweet.

“That’s me. I love problem solving.”

That figured. I was the opposite and fucking hated math. I wondered how successful she’d be in solving me, aka the biggest, most unsolvable problem on campus .

I noticed her thumbs were painted pink and wondered if she was a rebel or didn’t know the rules yet.

Girly shit like nail polish was forbidden at our School.

I only knew that as Storm and Tate bitched about it all the time; like not being able to paint your fingers was a type of torture.

That was just one example of the first-world problems that those girls complained about.

Storm and Tate were students who were also seniors and occasionally hung out with me and my brothers. Maybe Molly only painted her thumbs as an attempt to be half a bad girl. I pushed that thought away. I couldn’t imagine there being anything bad about this girl.

I grinned as I repeated Molly’s words, “Lowballed?

See, you're already one of us by the sounds of it,” I paused before pointing out, “So American English versus British English?

Surely, it won't matter? Why not use a blend of both?

I can't imagine you losing marks by spelling something in British English. Unless you have Connors, he's as tight as they come when dishing out the grades.” Fuck me, if my brothers could hear me, they’d be laughing their asses off.

Phoenix would say there are easier ways to get a girl into bed .

And that was it right there.

That wasn’t what I was doing at all. I didn’t just want to get her into bed. I also wanted to establish what made her tick; her likes and dislikes.

Fuck, that was new.

Molly dragged my thoughts back, “I don't have a Mr Connors. Not that I remember anyway. I only just got my timetable—oh, sorry—schedule?”

She was learning. I grinned, nodded, and pushed off the stacks, moving closer to her, “You're lucky you don’t have Connors. He also has poor hygiene. I used to keep a spare packet of Tic Tacs on me, just in case. They’re…”

Molly cut me off, amused, “I know what they are. Mints.”

“Of course, sorry. You’re from England. Not another planet,” I replied, lifting my hand to thread a stray lock of Molly’s hair behind her ear. Did I imagine it, or did she move her face towards my palm? My gesture sent a flush through her cheeks before her smile dipped.

“It certainly feels like it sometimes,” she confessed. I hated that thread of sadness in her voice and the shadow that lingered in her eyes .

“I think I know what you mean. But right now, we’re on the same one. I promise you.” My words came thick and fast, washing away that expression I didn’t care for. I never wanted to see this girl unhappy. Her smile was too infectious to be hidden away.

We shared a silence. It was nice.

Cradling the book against her chest, she purposefully broke that moment, “So, Connors, bad breath, huh? Now I'm even more relieved I don't have him,”

We were suddenly interrupted by two students wanting to get past. I leaned down and started to collect the books.

They were heavy, and seeing what I was doing, Molly joined in.

“Maybe if you're just consistent in your Lit class, write in either one or the other,” I suggested, bringing the topic back to school shit. I watched her body stretch as she attempted to place one of the books back on the top shelf. She was way too short to reach, but gave it a good go.

“Here, let me,” I said, taking the book from her. Our fingers skimmed, and again I felt a jolt of excitement.

“Maybe consistency is the way to go,” Molly replied, thanking me with her smile.

We then got into a routine, and as she passed me each book from the floor, I placed them back in the stacks.

“Well, it's just a suggestion. I’m not top-of-the-class material. Maybe speak to the teacher. Who do you have?”

As the last book was placed away, Molly retrieved her backpack. I pushed off the shelving and watched as she withdrew what looked like a schedule from her bag. “Callaghan?” she replied as she studied the piece of paper.

Huffing, I stepped towards her. Our bodies were so close now and she had to crane her neck to retain eye contact, “Ah yes, monster bitch. Good luck with that.”

She pushed her schedule away and then slid the backpack onto her shoulders.

“That bad?”

There was a brief silence where we looked into each other’s eyes before the bell went for the next lesson. I glanced at my watch. Fuck. I so needed to revise. I had a test after lunch.

“I'll speak to my sister, Harper. She has Callaghan.”

“Cool. Maybe Harper could tutor me in all things American?” she said, preparing to leave the library.

“Hey, if you need a tutor, look no further,” I offered with a sugary smile .

“I couldn’t ask you to help me. I already owe you one for almost bludgeoning you to death with A, F, G, H and K,” Molly explained with a laugh.

Rubbing my chin thoughtfully, I took on board her comment, “OK. So, you owe me one?” I suggested with raised eyebrows.

She took what I said on board before nodding in agreement. “Yes. And I always pay my debts.”

“Good to know. I’ll have to ensure it benefits us both,” I husked.

She looked at me from beneath her lashes, “Why would you do that?”

“Because I have a feeling that there is something that we both need. I’m just not sure what that is yet.”

I was being honest. Something wasn’t quite right with Molly. I sensed an emptiness in her that mirrored my own. Yet she hid it well.

“Deal,” she said, holding her tiny paw for me to shake. I looked down before I swallowed her hand with my own.

But I didn’t shake it, I drew her hand towards my mouth and planted one kiss against her wrist. Directly on that pulse point, I’d felt racing earlier.

A sweet silence stretched between us, and our eyes remained tangled.

“I’d better go. I’m already late. See you around, Hudson,” she said hopefully as I let her go. I did it, but it was fucking hard.

“Oh, you will, I guarantee it, Just Molly,” I replied.

And then she was gone.