Page 31 of The Casanova Complex

I nod. “Yeah. I’m curious.”

A beat passes, and she finally answers, “Political science. I’m pre-law.”

Wow.

I can’t keep the surprise off my face because she immediately arches a brow. “What did you think I was majoring in?”

My shoulder lifts. “I have no clue, but for some reason, I didn’t think law. It never crossed my mind. Honestly, that makes sense though. You’d be a badass lawyer.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Because if you bust anyone else’s balls the way you bust mine, then they stand zero chance against you, Mer Bear.” I smirk when she rolls her eyes again.

“Merritt.”

“Right. That’s what I said. Anyway, cool to know. Have you applied yet?”

I don’t really know shit about law school, but I know you apply in the fall. I think.

She shakes her head as she opens her notebook and sets it down in front of her. “No. I’m applying soon. I’m just working on finalizing my personal essay. That’s part of the reason why this project is so important. I can’t afford for my GPA to drop. Not just because of my application but for grant awards and financial aid. Which means we have to make sure we kill this. There’s no other choice.”

Ah.

Alright, now it’s making more sense, her being so worked up about the project from the jump. It’s not just a perfection kink, which I’m not sure is even a thing.

It’s because she’s got things at stake. Important shit.

Like when I’m guarding the net and we’re in overtime with seconds left on the clock. If I let anything past me, then it’s all over, and there will be no one to blame but me.

Being the last line of defense means pressure like you couldn’t imagine.

“Yeah, I guess we’ve got no choice but to get an A.”

She nods, rolling her lips together before glancing down at her notebook, then back to me. “How do you remember anything if you never take notes? I literally never see you with a laptop or even a freaking pencil.”

“Dunno. I just lock it all away up here.” I tap my finger along my temple.

I watch as Merritt scribbles away in her notebook. Something about a plan is all I can see on the paper.

She looks back up at me. “Okay, well, we need to start working on brainstorming and putting together an outline. We’ve met like three times, and I feel like we’ve done nothing for the actual project.”

“Not true,” I say, lifting a brow. “I read Jane Eyre already. Have you?”

Immediately, her cheeks flush pink, and her eyes dart away, and then it hits me.

No fucking shot that she made my ass read that shit, and she didn’t.

Nuh-uh.

“Merritt,” I say slowly, folding my palm over her hand where she’s spinning that ring absentmindedly. “Did you read the book?”

Finally, she lifts her eyes back to me, bouncing them between mine. “Well, uh,” she stammers. “No? I mean not yet, but I am going to. Today.”

Before I can give her an ungodly amount of shit, the bell above the door jingles, and my attention snaps to it because it’s so damn loud.

Of fucking course the person who just walked in is Gauthreaux. He saunters through the door with his arm thrown around the shoulders of a petite blonde girl who’s giggling like a fucking hyena.

I guarantee whatever he said isn’t actually that funny. Probably not funny at all. His head dips to her ear as they approach the case, and she leans into him with an adoring smile.