The Deal

“Oh my God.” She takes a step forward as if she’s going to hug me, but then her gaze darts to Garrett and she appears to have second thoughts about broadcasting her terribly unwarranted joy. “I owe you so big for this, Han.”


I want to tell her that she’s actually doing me the favor, but she’s already dashing toward the booth to wait on her prince. I watch in amusement as Garrett’s expression clouds over at Lisa’s approach. He picks up the glass she sets in front of him, then meets my gaze and slants his head.

As if to say, you’re not getting rid of me that easily.

*

Garrett

She’s not getting rid of me that easily.

Clearly Hannah Wells hasn’t been around many athletes. We’re a stubborn lot, and the main thing we all have in common? We never, ever give up.

God help me, but I’m going to convince this girl to tutor me, even if I die trying.

But now that Hannah has dumped me off on the other waitress, it’s a long while before I get another opportunity to plead my case. For the next twenty minutes, I endure the blatant flirting and undisguised interest of the curly-haired brunette who’s serving me, but although I’m polite to her, I don’t flirt back.

The only person I’m interested in tonight is Hannah, and my gaze sticks to her like glue as she works the room. I wouldn’t put it past her to make a run for it when I’m not looking.

Her uniform is kinda hot, if I’m being honest. Powder-blue dress with a white collar, big buttons down the front, and a short white apron around her waist. Looks like an outfit right out of Grease, which I guess makes sense considering Della’s is a 50s-themed diner. I can easily picture Hannah Wells fitting in during that era. Her dark, shoulder-length hair has a slight wave to it, and her bangs are pinned to the side with a blue barrette, giving the hairstyle an old-fashioned vibe.

As I watch her work, I wonder what her story is. I asked around at study group, but nobody knew much about her. One guy told me she’s from a small town in the Midwest. Someone else said she dated some guy in a band all through sophomore year. Other than those two meager details, she’s a total mystery.

“Can I get you anything else?” my waitress asks eagerly.

She’s looking at me like I’m a celebrity or some shit, but I’m used to the attention. Fact: when you’re the captain of a Division I hockey team that’s won two consecutive national titles, people know who you are. And women want to fuck you.

“No, thanks. Just the bill, please.”

“Oh.” Her disappointment is unmistakable. “Sure. Coming right up.”

Before she can go, I voice a gruff question. “Do you know when Hannah’s shift is over?”

Her disappointed expression transforms into one of disbelief. “Why?”

“She’s in one of my classes. I wanted to talk to her about an assignment.”

The brunette’s face relaxes, but a flicker of suspicion lingers in her eyes. “She’s off now, but she can’t leave until her table does.”

I glance over at the only other occupied table in the diner, where a middle-aged couple is sitting. The man has just pulled out his wallet, while his wife peers at the bill through her horn-rimmed glasses.

I pay for my food, bid my waitress goodbye, then head outside to wait for Hannah. Five minutes later, the older couple waltzes out of the diner. A minute after that, Hannah appears, but if she sees me lurking near the door, she doesn’t let on. She simply buttons up her coat and takes off toward the side of the building.

I waste no time hurrying after her. “Wellsy, wait up.”

She looks over her shoulder, frowning deeply. “For the love of God, I’m not tutoring you.”

“Sure you are.” I shrug. “I just need to figure out what you want in return.”

Hannah whirls around like a dark-haired tornado. “I want to not tutor you. That’s what I want.”

“All right, so it’s obvious you’re not interested in money,” I muse as if she hasn’t spoken. “Has to be something else then.” I mull it over for a beat. “Booze? Weed?”

“No, and no, and get lost.”

She starts walking again, her white sneakers slapping the sidewalk as she marches toward the gravel lot at the side of the diner. She makes a beeline for the silver Toyota hatchback parked right next to my Jeep.

“Okay then. I guess you’re not into party favors.”

I follow her to the driver’s side, but she completely ignores me as she unlocks the door and tosses her purse into the passenger seat.

“How about a date?” I offer.

That gets her attention. She straightens up like someone shoved a metal rod up her spine, then swivels her head in astonishment. “What?”

“Ah. I’ve got your attention.”

“No, you’ve got my disgust. You actually think I want to go out with you?”

“Everyone wants to go out with me.”

She bursts out laughing.

Maybe I should feel insulted by the response, but I like the sound of her laughter. It’s got a musical quality to it, a husky pitch that tickles my ears.

“Just out of curiosity,” she says, “after you wake up in the morning, do you admire yourself in the mirror for one hour or two?”

“Two,” I reply cheerfully.