Page 100 of She’s Worth the Risk

I motion to the image behind me, and this time, I keep my gaze locked on Zinnia. I might be speaking to the class, but my words are for her alone.

“When the work is this significant—this meaningful—we can all agree it was worth the risk.”

Her eyes glow, and she bites her bottom lip. My heart thunders as I stare at her. And while I don’t know how, I do know I have to fight for her. She’s so much more than my dirty little secret.

She’s everything.

I swallow hard, realization slowly sinking into my bones. It’s not only the fear of running into someone I know at Marcus’s wedding that’s holding me back. It’s the fear of what my brother would think if he knew the truth.

That I’m falling in love with a student.

I stare at my brother’s house, mind spinning. I don’t know why I’m here. Maybe I’ve come to tell Marcus that Zinnia won’t be able to make it to the wedding. That he shouldn’t have bothered to invite her.

Or maybe I’m hoping he’ll be able to offer some advice.

But as I stand on Cranberry Street in the warm afternoon sun, I can’t get my feet to move. Marcus and I don’t have that kind of relationship. We don’t give each other advice. We haven’t been close since we were kids.

Shaking my head, I glance along the street. He’s probably not home, anyway. Not at this time of day.

I turn to leave when Marcus’s voice stops me in my tracks.

“Nick?”

Stiffening, I glance back. “Hey.” I frown. “How did you know I was out here?”

His forehead wrinkles with amusement. “I saw you through the window, dumbass.”

My frown deepens. Yet another brotherly nickname.

“Well?” Marcus motions over his shoulder. “Are you going to come in, or what?”

I waver, then, heaving a sigh, climb his stoop. He claps me jovially on the back as I pass, and it sends a flicker of irritation through my chest. Marcus finds it so easy to put the past behind him, but I can’t forget. I can’t shake the sting of humiliation every time I see him.

I pad behind him into his glossy, gleaming kitchen. He checks the time—4 p.m.—then goes to the fridge.

“Beer?”

I nod without hesitation, resisting the urge to ask for something stronger. He pops the tops off two bottles of Miller High Life, and we slide onto the stools at his kitchen counter.

“So what brings you by?” he asks. “Your class isn’t until later, right?”

“Yeah,” I say, picking at the label on my bottle. What was I thinking, showing up here? It’s not like I can tell him the truth. He already thinks my job is a joke. Why give him another reason to laugh at me?

Marcus gazes at me curiously over his beer. “So, you got the new invitation.”

“Yep.”

“You didn’t say if she could come.”

I study the pattern in Marcus’s marble countertop. “I can’t… It’s complicated.”

Marcus snorts into a sip of beer. “No, dickweed, it’s not. Just ask her.”

My jaw tightens. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Call me names like that. Jackass. Dipshit. Why?”