Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 107077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
She’s right about that. Guess I never paid much attention. I’m either here with a group of friends or a couple of girls. Needless to say, they hold my interest.
My gaze returns to her dark one as I shift my weight. “Are you going to have time to get together tonight, or should I just take off?” As soon as the words escape, I wince. Giving her an out was a mistake. She’ll probably jump at the chance to get rid of me.
She presses her lips together and considers the question. “I’ll put you at a table out of the way and you can try and get through as much as you can on your own. In about twenty minutes, I can take a break and check over your work. After that, I’ll stop over between customers. Hopefully, that’ll be enough to get you through tonight.” There’s a pause. “Did you have a chance to start the assignment?”
“There wasn’t time.” And…I didn’t really understand the material. It’s kind of hard to get through the questions when you have no idea what the hell they’re asking.
“All right.” She releases a steady breath. “Guess I’ve got my work cut out for me, don’t I?”
“Yup.” That’s putting it mildly.
She points to a small table wedged in the back near a hallway that leads to the bathrooms. “Why don’t you work over there.”
I scope out the situation. “Sounds good.”
“I’ll be over when I can.”
“No worries.”
With that, she takes off, beelining for a group of customers as I cut through the large space to the table and drop onto the chair. It feels good to take a load off as I open my backpack and grab my book before firing up my computer and pulling up the assignment.
I glanced at the questions earlier this afternoon, but since I haven’t been paying attention during the lectures and have barely read over the notes, I didn’t get very far. For the most part, I’ve enjoyed my Communications courses. I have no problem getting up in front of a class and talking. Hell, I’ve bullshitted my way through most of my speeches. But this theory crap?
It literally sucks the life from my soul.
It’s so fucking dry.
Shoving those thoughts from my head, I crack my knuckles, ready to get serious and hammer this out. I harness all my mental capabilities and read over the question—several times since it doesn’t seem to be computing—before drawing the book closer, carefully searching through the chapter for the answer. Laughter and chatter from neighboring tables draws my attention away. When a baby lets out a loud cry, I glance up. It takes a couple seconds to realize that I’ve become distracted. And then I can’t remember what the hell I was hunting for in the first place.
I straighten and plow a hand through my hair.
Just as frustration spirals through me and I wonder if I’m doomed to repeat this course next semester, Lola stops by with a glass of water and a plate of tacos. I’ve never been so thrilled to see a Mexican entrée in my life.
“Thanks.”
“I figured you might be hungry,” she says with a shrug.
“Starving, actually,” I admit.
“Hope it helps you concentrate.”
Yeah…that’s doubtful. Not even a plate of tasty tacos will be able to help with that.
“Thanks,” I mutter, reminded of the assignment that needs to be accomplished tonight when the clock strikes midnight.
Before I can ask her to clarify the question, she rushes away, moving from table to table, bringing drinks and food, or clearing away dishes. I don’t realize I’ve spent this entire time watching her until I glance at my plate and find it wiped clean. Not even a shred of lettuce remains.
I’ve never seen anyone hustle the way she does. It’s like her ass is on fire as she zips through the restaurant. Even though I keep refocusing on my work, my gaze continually gets snagged by her. After another ten minutes, she drops onto the chair across from me and huffs out a breath.
“Okay. Show me what you have so far.”
9
LOLA
Holy crap, it feels good to finally take a break and get off my feet. Even if it’s just for a handful of minutes.
Since there isn’t time to waste, I get straight to it by swiveling his laptop toward me. Asher has been sitting here for a good thirty minutes, so I’m expecting to see at least a couple of problems completed. I should have just enough time to look them over, correct some grammatical errors, and add a little more information to beef up the answers.
Instead, I barely find a few sentences. I skim the question and then his answer. My brow furrows as I blink and read it over for a second time.
This…doesn’t even make sense. It’s like the guy has no idea what he’s talking about. For reasons I can’t explain, disappointment fills me as I realize that everything I’ve heard about Asher is true. There’s not much going on upstairs. He’s all brawn and no brains.