“Lucky I’m not conceited then.”

I don’t miss the twitch of Jordan’s lips and my grin widens. Dismissing me, she shifts her focus to my uncle and begins taking notes on the ethical guidelines he’s outlining.

“So is that all there is to know about you?” Jordan asks me, though her eyes are on her page as she keeps writing. “You don’t like chocolate, your middle name is Abraham, your dream is professional football, you’re persistent, you like to think you’re not conceited when you totally are, and…” she glances pointedly at the blank page in front of me “…you don’t take notes in class.”

“Notes?” I kick back in my seat. “That’s what I’ve got you for.”

Her mouth falls open. “Is that the real reason you didn’t show up Monday night? Because you think I’m going to do all the work for you?”

The real reason? My face hurt like a bitch and my mood was shit. After leaving my parents’ house, I went to the gym and lifted weights until I felt numb. And when I got home at one in the morning, I still couldn’t sleep. I lay there questioning why I bothered. Why I worked so hard. I don’t need to prove anything to my parents, or anyone else. I know that in my head, so why can’t my heart let it go?

I meet Jordan’s eyes, keeping my voice low. “It’s not easy accepting that you need help. I hate that I struggle to read,” I confess. “And it’s not just that. I can’t take notes either. Listening is a huge issue for me. I can’t compute the words fast enough. They go in, but before I’ve had time to process them, let alone write them down, my professors have already moved on and I lose them.”

There’s no pity in Jordan’s eyes, only that determination that’s always there like a cold fire burning. “I’m sorry it’s not easy for you,” Jordan says quietly. “You can copy my notes down later. And next time just record them on your phone or laptop. I know it takes more time, but it’s just something you have to do.”

Something curls around my heart and squeezes. I know I’ve made some kind of choking noise when Jaxon kicks me with his foot. “Dude, what is wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” Clearing my throat, I pick up my pen and pretend to focus, but I can’t. When I tilt my head to look at Jordan again, she catches me and smiles.

“Brody. Jordan,” my uncle calls out.

I jump at the sound of his voice. Students swivel in their seats to stare, and a smirk appears on Davis’s face. I lean back casually in my seat.

“Would either of you care to correlate ethical behavior with the practice of multi-national corporations sending profits offshore?”

No. Hell no. Jordan’s smart enough for me not to hesitate throwing her under a bus. “I’m sure Jordan would love to answer that question.”

Jordan shoots me a glare and my lips twitch in response.

“Reputation?” she says to our professor, the word coming out more like a question than an answer.

“Expand.”

She clears her throat. “Well, sending profits offshore is a tax minimizing regime, right? That’s millions of dollars lost in American tax dollars, and directly affects the services the governments provide to us. What they’re doing might be legal via tax code loopholes, but it’s unethical, and it’s harming their reputation. Customers are boycotting these businesses, forcing them to adhere to an ethical standard or face having it hit their bottom line.”

“Good.” His eyes scan the room. “Can anyone tell me what other ethical issues are facing big business today?”

When the lecture is over, I snap my books shut with relief and shove them inside my bag. Students stand en masse, shuffling their way outside while I wait for Jordan to get her things together.

“Brody, Jordan, can I see both of you, please?”

Jordan stands. Resting her bag on her desk, she begins filling it. When she’s done I snatch it up and carry it down the front of the room for her. Davis sits off to the side. He’s lingering at his laptop like a festering blister that won’t go away, his fingers tapping a steady rhythm on the keyboard while pretending not to watch us. I shift forward a step, blocking Jordan from his view. It’s a subtle move but when his eyes cut to mine I know he doesn’t miss it for what it is.

He smirks.

My hands fist.

“How’s the tutoring going?” Patrick asks quietly, looking between the both of us.

“Good, Professor,” Jordan replies quickly. The back of her hand brushes mine and the knot of anxiety growing in me loosens.

“Brody? Is it helping?”

I shrug. “I guess we’ll find out after midterms, right?”

The lines on his forehead deepen. “If either of you have any problems, or it isn’t working out, come see me.”

He nods a dismissal and we both turn to leave. “A quick word, Brody?”

I halt, telling Jordan to go when she hesitates. Her gaze shifts quickly between my professor and me before leaving the room. My irritation ramps up a notch when I notice Davis slip out the door behind her.

“Brody.”

I drag my eyes away and give him my attention.

“What happened to your face?”

“Nothing. Just an injury at training.”

My expression is neutral yet he cocks his head, narrowing his eyes in a look that says I know you’re lying.

“Is that all?” My brows rise coolly. I don’t want to talk about it any more than necessary. “I need to eat before I get to training.”

His jaw tightens, but he nods his head at the door. “Go.”

Jordan is waiting for me when I leave the room. The pleasure dampens when I see Kyle by her side, talking to her. “Get lost, Davis,” I snap.

“I was just checking to see if Jordan has a study partner for the case assignments.” He rubs his brow with his middle finger. “No one wants their grade jeopardized by studying alongside a dumbass.”

Asshole.

In my mind I’m grabbing his throat and slamming him against the wall. In reality I’d get pulled from the next game if I did that. Davis knows it and follows up his comment with a wide grin.

I take a step closer, pleased at the three-inch height difference when he has to look up. My shoulders are wider and I roll them deliberately. “Jordan’s study partner is none of your concern.”

He shrugs, and like I haven’t even spoken he looks to Jordan. “You know, as the teacher’s aide I could help you out.”

I glance at Jordan. Her eyes are on Davis like he’s a cockroach that won’t die. “I don’t need your help.” She takes my hand in hers, her grip tight. I give it a squeeze, liking her response.

“Don’t be so sure about that.” He turns to leave, adjusting his bag over his shoulder. “You have my number if you change your mind.”

She has his number? My eyes narrow.

“Stay away from Jordan,” I call to his back as he walks away.

He turns, brow arched, walking backwards. “Don’t you think that’s her call?”

“You only want her because she belongs to me.”

Kyle shakes his head. “Wow, ego much, Madden?”

“Fuck off, Davis.” Carter shoulder checks him as he walks toward us. Kyle scowls at Carter’s back before disappearing in a sea of students. Carter gives me a fist bump and winks at Jordan. “Yo, pretty girl.”

“It’s Jordan.”

“What?”

“My name,” she says, her hand still tucked warm and firm in mine. “It’s Jordan.”

Carter smiles and lays an arm across her shoulder. “Ahh, Madden’s girl.” He nudges her with his hip. “You two left the party early, huh?”

“Knock it off, Carter.” Letting go of Jordan’s hand, I steal the football from under his arm and smack him on the head with it.

“Dude!” He snatches it back and spins it in his hands. “You guys coming to lunch? I’m so hungry I could swallow a burger whole.”

“I’d pay money to see that.” Eddie interjects when he and Jaxon appear behind Carter.

“How much?” Carter’s tone is all business and they begin to haggle as we walk out to the quad. I retake Jordan’s hand in mine, and we follow behind while they discuss terms.