Free Four Years Later by Monica Murphy

crawl into bed, when there she appeared, gorgeous in those jeans that fit her like a second skin, showing off those long legs and that …
    Grimacing, I shake my head. I need to get over my fixation with her ass.
    “Fine. Take me home, then.” She sounds completely irritated. “Now give me my phone.”
    “Not until you thank me for the ride.” I’m playing games with her and actually enjoying myself. I haven’t enjoyed … anything for a while. I’m too stressed out. Everyone wants something from me and I keep fucking up. I can’t seem to get my shit together.
    She rests her hands on her hips, scowling at me. “You haven’t even given me the ride yet.”
    “I know.” I grin and her scowl deepens. I wonder if she hates me specifically, or does she hate all guys in general? “You’re not going to like this, but we have to walk back to my place first, pick up my car, and then I can drive you home.”
    “Wait a minute. Your car’s not here?”
    “I live ridiculously close. I walk to work.” I shrug. Everyone thinks I’m freaking crazy. They all know who I’m tied to at The District, especially since my sister used to work there. That I walk to work and try to keep everything low key when I could let everyone know the NFL’s newest superstar, Drew Callahan, is my brother-in-law blows their minds.
    I’m not about that kind of shit, though. Being obvious only causes trouble. I can just imagine how much greedier my mom would be if I got all flashy like that.
    When Chelsea doesn’t say anything, I take that to mean she’s being agreeable. “Ready to go?” I start walking and she falls into step beside me, both of us quiet as we head toward my house. I live right downtown, among the older homes and the frat and sorority houses, not too far from campus. I like being so close, in the midst of everything. Fable thinks I’m crazy, but she got nothing but grief from all of those college types—specifically the type of guys I hang out with now.
    Drew put a stop to all that. He’s Fable’s freaking hero. At times, he’s been mine, too.
    I glance down at Chelsea, who’s taking about five steps to keep up with one of mine. Her head is bent against the wind that’s blowing over us and she has her arms wrapped around herself like she’s cold.
    I’m tempted to slip my arm around her shoulders and pull her into me to warm her up, because I’m hot as hell after working a busy night, but I restrain myself. First, I probably smell, not that I’m trying to impress her or anything. Second, she’d probably punch me in the gonads if I tried to touch her. She’s on edge and I can’t blame her. That stupid loser was trying to manhandle her. What would have happened if I hadn’t been there to stop it?
    “Thank you for helping me get rid of Tad,” she says, her voice soft.
    She’s a mind reader. “No problem.”
    “I didn’t want to be there tonight. At The District,” she goes on. “It was all Kari’s idea. She set me up with Tad and he turned out to be a total jerk.”
    Weak statement. The guy was more like a total asshole. “Maybe you shouldn’t let your friend set you up with guys you don’t know.”
    “No kidding,” she mutters. “Though it’s really the only way I meet guys.”
    “What about the ones you tutor?” Hell, listen to me. I sound like a wimp trying to figure out how she meets guys. I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t be attracted to her. I need to find some hot chick with an amazing ass and fuck her brains out. Fuck Chelsea right out of my head so I won’t think about her anymore.
    I don’t know if that would work, though. The thought of finding some random chick and getting laid doesn’t appeal whatsoever.
    “The ones I tutor … I consider it—them—work.” She looks up at me and our gazes meet. I don’t look away. Neither does she. “Usually,” she adds, sinking her teeth into her lower lip.
    Okay. I need to pretend she never said that. Because my body is reacting all over