I wonder what version of this guy I’ll get today. Will I get kind and helpful Zack? Or the angry, bitter and cold Zack who stared me down after his assault on Jonas?
Regardless, I'm not here to make friends or to get on anybody's good side. I just need to graduate and that's exactly why I am still sitting here in this library right now. If it weren’t for that reason, I wouldn't be tutoring Zack at all. In fact, I’d probably stay as far away from him as I could.
Something about Zack unsettles me. I just haven’t decided if it’s a good feeling, or very bad one. He’s an enigma and I’ve always been drawn to mysterious people. The ones who have more depth than anyone could imagine, but they never show it. It gives me this idea in my head that I can crack them open and heal their wounds. Zack is different, though. He’s not like the boys from my past. He comes off as this hardass, but I know there is more to him than meets the eye.
I sense his presence without even looking up. I can hear the heavy breaths exiting his lungs, the smell of his cedarwood cologne, and I can feel his lackluster gaze holding tight to me. My questions are answered when I look up from my book and our eyes meet and I see those cold brown eyes. They’re not the soft, warm ones that had me under a spell last week. These ones hold fire behind them.
"Let's just get the shit over with," Zack says with a clipped tone as his books hit the table with a thud.
Flipping through pages just to give myself something to do, I agree with him. “Yes, lets. Neither of us care to spend any more time with the other than necessary.”
“Sure you’d rather be with Jonas,” he mumbles.
Craning my neck, I look at him. “What's that supposed to mean?”
He pulls the chair out and flips it around so that his chest is pressed against the back side. His legs straddle the frame and his arms fold over the top. “Exactly what it sounded like.”
Sweeping it away, I change the subject. “Page eighty-one. Linear equations.” I keep my head down, avoiding eye contact. “For equations to work, they have to share one or more variables. Do you know—”
“He’s just using you,” Zack interrupts.
“Excuse me?” I huff, dropping my pencil to the table.
“It’s true. He’s just trying to piss me off. Don’t take it personally. He’s been doing it for years.”
“And why exactly would Jonas and I spending time together piss you off?”
His shoulders shrug before he stretches his upper torso across the table. His fingers grip the edge right beneath my breasts. “Because I told him not to.”
“You told him not to spend time with me? That doesn’t make any sense. Why would you do that?”
“It wasn’t just him.” His eyes hold tight to my cleavage, suddenly making me feel very exposed. “I told everyone to stay away from you.” He finally lifts his head up. His vindictive expression sending chills skating down my back. He lifts one hand and trails his index finger lightly around my jawline, starting at my ear and ending on my chin. The pad of his thumb rubs my bottom lip before he tugs it down and lets it fall back in place. All the while, he watches his movements.
Instinctively, I lick my lips and suck them between my teeth. “But, why? You don’t even like me.”
And just like that, he drops back into his seat, leaving me completely dumbfounded and slightly turned on. I clench my thighs together, chasing away the tingling sensation left behind from his touch. “You’re right. I don’t.” He grabs a pencil and taps it to my open book. “Back to work, Teach.”
Something pangs inside my chest. He just admitted he doesn’t like me. Why does it feel like I was just cut open with my soul barred? Slamming my book shut, I chase away the hurt. “Humor me, Zack. Why don’t you like me? Hmm? Come on, let’s hear it.” He just sits there smirking and I wanna jump across this table and shake the answers out of him. “Fine,” I begin stacking my books into a pile and slide the chair back being the stubborn person that I am. “I’ll do summer school if I have to. All I know is that I can’t do this anymore.” I grab my bag and start sliding the books inside of it.
I’m not even sure at what point he made his way over to me, but his hand on my arm has me halting my movements. “Don’t go,” he says in a hushed tone.
My eyes skate up to his as goosebumps surge downward from his touch. “What’s the point in staying?”
There’s a beat of silence. One that has me questioning myself. If someone doesn’t like you, you stay away from them. When someone wants to play games with you, you run. But, why am I still here? Why do I find myself looking at his lips and wanting to trail my finger along his sharp jawline, gripping it and pulling his mouth to mine?
“Because if you leave, I’ll follow.”
“You’re not making any sense, Zack. You don’t like me, but you want to be around me?” His hand moves from my arm and I can feel the imprint of where his touch was. I run my hand over it and pull it closely to my chest, not taking my eyes off him.
“Not want to. Have to.”
I watch him as his gaze slides all over my body. My eyes, then my lips, my chest, and back up to my mouth. He wants to kiss me, I can feel it. And hell if I don’t want the same. Just to see what it feels like. My body craves his touch, his taste, his scent. “Why?” I whisper, feeling like this conversation is going absolutely nowhere. We’re talking in circles because we both feel that undeniable chemistry that we are fighting so hard to ignore.
“Because you ruined—”
Fuck it. My hands have a mind of their own as they wrap around his head and pull his mouth to mine, completely cutting him from finishing the words that I didn’t even hear. He doesn’t fight it. He engages full force as his arm slides around my back, scooping me up and pulling me close. Our chests heaving together as our tongues dance in circles. His soft lips press deep into mine. Waging war on my mouth and devouring it like it’s his favorite dessert.
Thankfully, we are in a private section of the library, but I’m not even sure I’d care if we were on full display. I’m not sure anything could stop what's happening right now.
Zack’s strong body walks mine backwards until we’re nestled between two bookshelves. A plant sits between my legs and I’m pretty sure I just knocked it over. That assumption is verified when I hear the crunching of the ceramic pot beneath Zack’s shoes.
It doesn’t stop him, and it certainly doesn’t faze me. My fingers tangle in his hair—tugging, pulling, and giving into this insatiable need to be as close to him as possibly.
His calloused fingers snake up the side of my tee shirt. Abrasive and domineering, seeking for something but giving me nothing but the desire to have him trail farther up.
It’s like he reads my mind, but his hand goes in the opposite direction, instead of moving up, it skates downward. Sliding beneath the waistband of my jeans. Rimming the hem before pushing down into my dampened panties.
“You’re so wet already,” he grumbles into the lobe of my ear before sucking the thin skin between his teeth.
My head falls back as I revel in this intense sensation taking over my body. Morals be damned. All I want in this moment is for him to shove his fingers inside of me and take me out of my own head.