True (True Believers #1)(10)
Author: Erin McCarthy

“I did that last week and they didn’t actually fire me. That’s why I need to toe the line this week,” I told him dryly.

My sarcasm, which I usually delivered in a complete monotone, had the same effect on him now as it had in the car. He looked stunned for a second, then he grinned. “Well, then I can’t risk getting you in trouble. Tell me where the books are. I want to browse the lit section.”

“Sure. They’re this way.” I led him to the other side of the store, where there were racks and racks of books. “Is there a title you need for a class or something?”

“No, I just like to read.”

I glanced back to try to gauge his expression. He looked serious. I wouldn’t have pegged him as a big reader, but then again, what did I know about him really? I had just seen him slamming back beers and making out with Jessica. I didn’t even know what he was studying in school. The only thing I knew about him was that Jess had said he came from a messed-up family, and that he still lived at home not far from campus.

“What do you like to read?”

“Anything. Fiction, nonfiction, genre fiction, literature. Everything.” Immediately he picked up The Alchemist off the shelf. “Have you read this? It’s really good. You have to get used to the narrative, but then it’s a cool story. The kid is kind of a pu**y, but then he gets it in the end.”

I shook my head. “I haven’t read it.” The fiction section of bookstores always seemed to me like a mysterious world where I wasn’t allowed entrance, the intriguing and colorful covers a patchwork of complex stories, glimpses into other people’s lives, and where I should have felt at home, because I was generally an observer, not a doer. Yet when I read fiction, I was always knocked off-kilter by the scene changes, the styles of the various writers, the hints that seemed designed to tease and confuse, the themes that I could never ferret out. I read almost nothing other than nonfiction, facts and vocabulary. That was my comfort zone.

“Who is your favorite author?” He had moved on to a book I didn’t recognize, with a black-and-white photo of small children on the cover.

“I don’t have one. I read mostly nonfiction.” I spotted Tennessee Williams on the shelf, the bastard.

“Really?” Tyler looked surprised. “I would have thought you were a huge fiction reader, being so smart and everything. You’re premed, right?”

I had no idea where he’d heard what my major was, but I felt compelled to share my limitations with him. “I’m good at math and science. I like facts and figures. Literature is the hardest subject for me because I feel like I never understand what the authors are trying to tell me. It’s like they’re trying to trick me.”

“So you’re a logical kind of chick, huh? I should have figured that out. Me, I’d rather read a book than do math problems any day.” He dropped his beat-up bag to the floor. “I’m guessing I’ve read thousands of books at this point.”

Clearly I had to toss my preconceived notions about him out the window. Thousands? The thought made me break out in anxiety-inspired sweat. “Sounds time-consuming. And expensive.”

“Oh, but I have a secret weapon.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out his wallet. Picking through it, he withdrew and held out a very battered card. “Da-dum. My library card. Sexy, huh?”

I smiled. I couldn’t help it. There was something really charming about him, I had to admit. It was like he knew exactly who he was, and he wasn’t afraid to show himself to anyone. And while, yes, he was the bad boy who smoked and was tatted up and wouldn’t hesitate to punch someone in the face, he also liked to read. I admired that. “Awesome. So are you an English major?” I would have never guessed that, but maybe he wanted to be a teacher or something.

“Oh, hell no. I wish. I can’t afford four years of school with no guarantee of a job. I’m getting an associate’s degree as an EMT.” He made a face. “All the anatomy and phys classes suck. But I know if I can push through it, I can get that piece of paper and have a job right away. Only eight months to go. If I don’t f**k it up.”

I felt sympathy for his stress. “If you need help studying, you can call me. That stuff is easy for me.”

“Seriously?” There was a thoughtful expression on his face, and I wondered if that had sounded too conceited.

So I added, “Now if I could figure out what anything means in A Streetcar Named Desire. God, I’m so bad at it. Today in class I felt like I was listening to a foreign language. Symbolism sucks.”

“Maybe we can trade off, because I can help you with that. That’s my thing.” He pulled out his phone. “Give me your number, and we can study together sometime this week.”

“Okay, cool.” I wasn’t sure if that was actually cool or not. It seemed like maybe it was actually a bad idea, but I couldn’t pinpoint why that would be bad. Other than the fact that I still felt awkward that he knew I was a virgin, and he had seen me on the floor fending off Grant. But maybe if we hung out, none of that would seem important anymore and I could relax around him.

So I gave him my number and he immediately dialed it, so that I would have his, too.

“How does Thursday look for you?” he asked.

“I should be free.” My heart was beating faster than normal, and I wanted desperately to wipe my hands on my jeans.

“Okay, I’ll talk to you later.” He picked up his bag and turned to go. Then he paused and asked, “Hey, do you sell condoms here?”

I blinked. The change of subject caught me off guard, but I also felt a sudden tight pit in my stomach at the realization that he had, was, and would continue to have sex with my roommate, and possibly any number of other girls. It made me feel rejected and jealous, which was stupid.

Angry at my own reaction, I just shook my head. “No. The closest place is probably Walgreens across the street.”

“Thanks.” He winked at me, yanking the tank top back off the rack on his way past. “I’m buying this. Catch you later, Rory.”

I didn’t even want to think about who he was buying that for. Suddenly I wasn’t sure that tutoring with Tyler was going to be healthy for me.

But I also knew I wasn’t going to cancel.

I was too curious.

And oddly attracted to him.

***

Walking across campus with Kylie after our mutual calculus class on Wednesday, I kicked the leaves with the toes of my black riding boots, pushing my hands into the pockets of my peacoat. It had been an unusually cold October, and I could almost smell winter in the air. When I had first come to school as a freshman, I had missed the small-town feel of where I’d grown up, an hour out of Cincinnati. Our campus was urban, built in a depression in the geography, so the whole layout felt a bit like a bowl, with the stadium right in the center, buildings rising around it in a circle. But I was used to the constant press of architecture now, and there were still green spaces to hang out in.