Page 31 of The Tartan Thesis

A twinge of irritation hits me in the chest. Does he really not see what I see? Did I do something to make him feel this way? Time to clear up a couple more things for him.

“Sit down, Torin. Let’s talk.” He drops onto the bench immediately, like he’s just been called into a meeting with a very intimidating professor. I make sure he’s looking at me when I go on.

“Torin, you are hot,” I say. He begins to clear his throat, but I hold up a hand. “Don’t argue. I’m not flirting with you.” Though I’d like to. “I’m telling you what you need to hear.” His mouth closes. “Bulking up can definitely make a guy feel more confident, but I didn’t bring you to the gym because you need to have a better body. You already look incredible. I brought you here because I wanted you to do something new and difficult, and this is something I know how to do.”

“Oh,” he says with a blink.

“Seriously though, how did you get a body like that?” I ask, unable to stop myself when those long, bare legs are right there in front of me.

“I don’t know,” he says with a shrug. “I grew up on a farm. Do enough manual labor and you’ll get strong without going to the gym.” He rolls one shoulder, thinking. “Though maybe I should’ve done what you did. Might have deterred some of the pricks at school.”

Despite our past, my blood boils with protectiveness. I keep my voice level as I ask, “You had a hard time with bullying, too?”

“It wasn’t too bad.” He shrugs again, picking up a towel and twisting it idly in his hands. “I was a bookworm who liked musicals, and I didn’t play sports. Easy target. When anyone did start shit, it was because they underestimated me, and it was usually muscular guys with more brawn than brains.”

He glances at my biceps. If I looked anything like the guys who used to give him trouble, he must’ve been on the defensive the moment we met.

“It still gets under my skin when someone thinks I can’t do something,” he says, bitterness lacing his accent. “I could’ve played sports. I just didn’t want to.”

Another piece falls into place. “So when I told you the boxes were heavy the first day we met…”

“Exactly,” he says. “It felt like you were just another jock telling me I couldn’t do something.”

“I admit I did underestimate you,” I say, “but that wasn’t the reason I said I’d do it myself. You were clearly dressed up for something, so I didn’t want you getting dirty on my account.” I pause, then add with a small shrug, “Also, I don’t like asking for help.”

“You didn’t ask,” Torin says. “I offered.”

“True,” I say, “but I’ve been handed a lot in my life, and I know it, so I actively fight against being perceived as the spoiled brat who’s too lazy to do things for himself.” I sigh and shake my head. “I don’t know. Maybe I fight against it a little too hard at times. Our first meeting proves that. As does my midterm grade.”

Torin squirms at the mention of our exams. Good. He should feel at least a little awkward about announcing my grade to the entire cohort. But I also want to move past it, and I want him to understand my perspective on this.

“I knew I wasn’t keeping up with discussions,” I say, “so I should’ve known that my writing would be lacking as well. At any point I could’ve asked you or Isla or Blair for some help, but I didn’t. That’s on me.”

“Well,” he says with a grimace, “I didn’t exactly make it easy for you to ask. I should’ve been a better colleague.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” I say with a wink.

He blushes, looking contrite. And it’s so damn cute.

“But you’re helping me now,” I say and smile at him. He gives a small smile back.

His dumbbells are still on the floor, and the gym is getting busier, so I clap my hands on my knees and stand. “I think that’s enough for one day. Let’s pack it up.”

We rack the weights and wipe down the benches. Halfway through spraying disinfectant on the headrest, something occurs to me.

“Wait, you said you grew up on a farm?”

“Aye…” Torin says, and my excitement grows.

“Do you have any Highland cows?”

11

Torin

Fanny

Translation: Vagina