Henry narrowed his eyes right back at her. “Hockey means everything to me.”
“Well, if you want to keep playing, and you want to stay in school, you’re going to have to learn how to read,” she said simply.
She had him there.
“I got a book,” he admitted.
“What book?”
He flushed, remembering the snafu of checking it out, meeting Libby. “Phonics for Dummies. ”
The professor smiled. She had a dimple in one cheek when she did that he’d never noticed before. Maybe because, in class, he didn’t really see her smile very much. “Decided to start at the beginning?”
“Where else are you supposed to start?” He shrugged helplessly.
“Here.” She leaned forward and he caught a whiff of her scent, something flowery, when she got near. “With me. Are you ready?”
“I guess.”
“No guessing.” She was the professor again, all-business. “You either want to work or you don’t. I’m more than willing to give up my time to help you learn, but you have to be committed. Can you commit?”
Henry watched the squirrel holding onto his found nut for dear life, peering from side to side, as if something could take it away at any moment. He knew exactly how the little guy felt. “I really don’t have much of a choice.”
“Of course you do,” she countered, still in business mode. “You always have a choice. My father had a choice. He died still not knowing how to read, but at any point in his life, he could have chosen differently.”
“It’s so hard…” Henry blinked, willing tears not to fall. Christ, he couldn’t believe he was letting himself get emotional about this in front of her. “You have no idea.”
“Yes, I do.” She leaned toward him again, her eyes on his, steady. “You walking in here today and telling me you can’t read may be hardest thing you ever have to do, but it was also the bravest thing I’ve ever seen.”
He couldn’t answer her and if he’d had a voice left at all, it would have disappeared completely anyway when she lifted her hand and ran it tentatively through his still-wet hair.
She laughed when she saw the bemused look on his face. “I’m sorry. You really don’t remember, do you?”
“Remember?”
“Well you were young…my ex and I used to come over and play cards with your parents…” Her voice trailed off, as if she was reminiscing, but Henry couldn’t recall a thing about it. “You were such a sweet little blonde boy. I wanted to steal you and take you home with me.”
He shrugged, offering her a lopsided smirk. “What happened, huh?”
“Well the little towhead disappeared, that’s for sure.” She laughed, a sound he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard, her hand still moving in his now-dark hair. “But I think you turned out all right.”
“Except for the whole reading thing,” he reminded her, frowning.
“We’ll work on that. Yes?” She stood, going back behind her desk to sit and pull out some papers.
“Yes,” he agreed. He still had a rock sitting in his stomach, but at least it didn’t feel quite so heavy now.
She was like a different person when she smiled. “Let’s get started.”
“Come on!” Dean slammed his fist on the table beside him, jarring the cups and bottles of beer sitting on it. “That was the worst fucking pass I’ve ever seen!”
Henry sank back further into the low couch in the fraternity common room, grabbing his beer off the table just in case Dean decided to pound on it again.
“Dude, what the hell did you bet on the Lions for anyway?” Cody nudged Dean’s shoulder.
“Long shots pay off big.” Dean scowled. “Fucking pussy!” he yelled at the wide screen. “Can’t hold onto a goddamned football?”
“Butterfingers,” Henry observed, hiding his smile against his beer bottle as he took a swig.
“Dick,” Dean growled, glaring at him. He was practically foaming at the mouth.
“So Henry, guess who I saw in the kitchen?” Cody dropped his voice, leaning in to make himself heard over the music and the television.
“I have no idea.” Henry tried not to snicker when the Lions fumbled yet another pass and Dean jumped out of his seat with a string of profanity, starting to pace in front of the couch like a caged lion.
“Val.” Cody laughed when Henry nearly let his beer bottle slip from his hand.
“You’re kidding me?” Henry hadn’t seen her-hadn’t ever expected to see her again-since that night. Although, he had to admit, he’d had a few Fleshlight sessions replaying the whole thing in his head. “Is Marcus here?”
Cody shrugged. “Didn’t see him.”
Henry still couldn’t figure that whole thing out. If she was Marcus’s girlfriend, as Dean claimed, then why in the hell had she volunteered to do what she did? Dean said she was just kinky like that, and it had actually all been her idea. He didn’t know if he could believe it, though. Dean liked to tell tall tales, and it was often hard to know when he was telling the truth or pulling your leg. He still didn’t know how they’d managed to get the girl out of there without it all degenerating into a gang rape, considering the energy in the room that night, but Marcus had ushered her out pretty quickly afterward.
Now she was here? How in the hell could she possibly walk back into the place, knowing that most of these guys had seen her in such a compromising position?
“Speak of the devil.” Cody gestured toward the door and Henry caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye. It was her all right, no mistaking those big, darkly made-up eyes. She was wearing more clothes tonight, though-a short black and red checked leather skirt and a red sweater that all matched her red and black streaked hair.
“Hey, boys.” The sound of her voice made Henry’s mouth go dry. It brought that whole night back into focus, which was both exciting and embarrassing at once.
“Hey, Val.” Cody tipped his bottle at her. “Want a beer?”
“No thanks.” She plopped down onto the couch next to Henry, sitting close enough that her thigh brushed his when she crossed her legs. “How you doing, Henry?”
“Fine.”
Dean swore again, stalking away from the television, and Henry glanced at the score. The Lions were down by twenty-one and it was only half-time.
“I need more alcohol,” Dean grumbled, walking by them.
Val crinkled her nose. She had a diamond stud in it. “What’s his problem?”
“I think he bet on the wrong team,” Cody piped up.
“I hate it when that happens.” Val’s reply was directed at Cody, but she didn’t stop focusing on Henry. He could feel her gaze on him.
“So where’s Marcus?” Henry took a swig of his beer, pretending to be interested in the half-time show. Cheerleaders-what was there not to like?
“He’s on a date.”
Henry startled, glancing over at her. “A…date?”
“Yeah.” Her smile was slow, her mouth curling at the corners, and he couldn’t help but remember how it felt when she kissed him. “We’re not exclusive. We have an arrangement.”
“Ah.” Henry looked back to the television.
“Besides, I’m tired of being a sports widow,” Val pouted, crossing her arms and pushing her not inconsiderable breasts up. He could remember every luscious inch of them. He tried to distract himself with the television, thinking about Libby. She wouldn’t call him back. He’d even tried going through Elaine, but she wouldn’t call him either.
“So what sport is he widowing you for?” Cody prodded Val.
She rolled her eyes. “Every sport.”
Val turned her attention toward Henry again, not letting up as she leaned in and whispered to him, her breath warm. “So how are you liking your prize?”
“Uh…” He shifted on the couch, feeling her breasts pressing against his arm, warm and soft and full.
“I liked watching you.” Her breath smelled like alcohol and cherries. He didn’t say anything, but her lips were so close they brushed his ear, making him shiver. “It turns me on, watching guys get off like that.”
He gulped down another long swig of beer, finishing off the bottle, not saying a word.