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me the way I usually meet with my students; he’s right next to me and I can feel his warmth, smell his intoxicating scent. Like smoke and spice, fresh air and crisp apples. He smells like fall.
    Fall has always been my favorite season.
    “You have those assignments?”
    His question knocks me out of my distracted state and I pull a folder from the pile I have stacked beside me, the one that’s labeled
Maguire, Owen
. I flip it open and hand him the sheet of paper I copied for him earlier. It lists all the assignments he’s missed so far and the ones he’s completed, which aren’t many. “Here you go.”
    The paper lands in front of him and he studies it, his brows crinkled with concentration, his lips pressed together. I stare at him unabashedly because I can. As though maybe I’m supposed to, because hey, I’m his tutor. I need to watch over him and make sure he understands what’s going on, right?
    “Can I make up the tests?” His deep voice wraps around me, making me warm, and I nod, staring into his dreamy eyes.
    “Yes.”
    He keeps staring at me as if he’s waiting for me to say something else, and I realize I do have more I need to say.
    “You must finish the assignments leading up to the three tests you’ve missed first.” Leaning over, I point at the four assignments he missed that are listed before the first test. “So you turn those in, then you can complete the test.”
    “What about these?” His index finger joins mine on the sheet of paper, tapping on the missing work just below the first test, his finger almost but not quite brushing mine.
    I hold my breath, count to five. My insides are a fluttering, riotous mess, all because our fingers are close to each other on a piece of paper. “Same thing. Turn in the work, then take the test.” I sound all breathy and girlish. Like I’m trying to flirt, which I’m not.
    Owen Maguire just puts me into a breathless, girlish state.
    “Mmm-hmm.” He glances back up at me and our gazes meet. A lock of hair has fallen over his forehead and I want to push it back. Test its softness. Why is he looking at me like that? There’s no amusement, no mocking, no anger in his gaze. He’s looking at me as if he might … like me.
    Yeah, right—you have completely lost your mind.
    “You’ll help me?”
    “That’s my job.” I nod.
    “You’ll meet with me twice a week? Monday and Wednesday?”
    I nod again. “Yeah.” Clearing my throat, I sit up straighter. “Yes. I will.”
    He smiles. I like his smile. His teeth are straight. His lips are temptation. “Then we have a deal, Chelsea. See you Monday.”
    Before I can say goodbye, he’s up and out of the chair, fleeing the room in a rush. I can almost believe he was never there in the first place.
    Almost.

CHAPTER 4
    Monday #1
Owen
    My weekend dragged on for what felt like forever. Friday, after making sure my paycheck was direct deposited into my account, I cruised to the bank and took out some cash, then texted Mom to meet me. I handed over a stack of twenties and she took them greedily, her eyes wide, her mouth curved in what I suppose was a smile.
    Later she brought over two twelve-packs to the house and we got high together, though really I only took one puff. It bothers me, doing that with her. I’m to the point where I can’t stand it. And I only smoke with her when no one else is around.
    I don’t need the guilt, or the weird looks. Wade knows my relationship with my mom is twenty flavors of fucked up, but Des doesn’t. He thinks my life is sunshine and roses.
    Irritated with everything going down in my life, especially Mom, I got her to leave pretty quickly and she went without protest, happy because she was high as hell and had a pocket full of cash.
    I made a mental bet with myself she’d be back within a week, needing more.
    Wade, Des, and I hung out together all weekend when I wasn’t working, and considering my boss cut my hours because the owner said he had to, I was glad to be