The Partnership (Extra Credit Book 1)

by Charlotte Penn Clark

  “Ahhh—“ Holly breaks into a big smile. “Moving along. He’s teaching me how to slow down and I’m teaching him how to speed up, basically.” Her expression reveals how much fun she’s having and I’m almost jealous. She brushes off her hands like she’s done with that subject and on to the next—which apparently is me.

  “So, Lani, I know last week I said no one else can really help you stand up for yourself, but I meant no guy can help you with that because they’re power-hungry assholes. Except Noah. And, unless they’re Noah, they’ll push you around just because they like to be the bosses of everything. Unfortunately, you aren’t partnered with a Noah, you’re partnered with a Kyle.”

  I open my mouth to defend him, but she plows ahead. “So my advice is to practice on him. Stand up to him. That’s how he can best help you get over whatever dumb push-over thing you did to get yourself in here. He can be your punching bag.”

  Holly and Annika both look delighted by this idea, but I’m not so sure. “That doesn’t seem very nice,” I start, my eyes searching out Kyle again. “He wants to help me.”

  “That’s the beauty of my plan…. He will! He’ll be much more help this way than with any lame-ass challenge he comes up with.”

  “But—“

  “He’s tough. He can take hits! So spoon some out!” Annika insists.

  “You mean dish, not spoon,” I correct automatically.

  Annika just shakes her head. “You’re too nice! You and me, girl, we need a Freaky Friday role swap!” She’s laughing happily now and she’s drawn all eyes in the room toward us. I catch Kyle’s gaze and I realize they don’t get him at all. It’s confusing that I do, and that I’m compelled to defend him.

  “It’s just his manner,” I say, still looking at Kyle. “He’s really very sweet.” Out of the corner of my eye I think I see Holly and Annika’s jaws drop. “I think I’ll stand up to you two instead.”

  They look startled for a brief moment and then they both break into gales of laughter, high-fiving each other, then me. I see Kyle’s puzzlement before he shakes his head and turns his attention back to his guys. When the class is over I sneak out in keeping with my strategy of Avoidance and Denial.

  But despite my best efforts some niggling questions manage to get through the firewall. What does my partnership with Kyle mean? Why can’t I get involved with him, again? It just feels like a really bad idea—too intense, too risky…. He’s so totally not my type—I’ve always gone for touchy-feely types, dancers and artists, sensitive souls who want to discuss poetry and go for walks on the beach. I’m momentarily derailed by a vision of Kyle in board shorts, but I drag my mind back to the point: that he’s totally wrong for me. I go around and around like this, helplessly.

  In the meantime, I throw all this edgy new energy into my dancing and realize with some surprise that it helps. It’s as if this unresolved thing with Kyle occupies the space in my brain that usually obsesses about performing in front of people. My ballet class was observed by some prospective students and I didn’t freak out. My hip hop class was asked to perform at some alumni fundraiser next month and I didn’t try to weasel out of it.

  Of course it’s when I’m tired and distracted after a long day in studio that I end up running into him. The light is fading into dusk when we cross paths going in different directions. Everyone else seems to fade away and we just stand and stare at each other. That kiss is instantly between us again, hot and sweet. And his eyes darken and my mouth parts and our breathing starts quickening. Right out here in the quad, where a new layer of snow has made a gross cocktail with the melting slush. I drop my eyes and glance nervously to the side, jamming my hands in my pockets.

  “You,” he hisses, leaning in and poking me with a finger. “Are a coward!” He’s too close.

  I raise my eyes to his and shrug helplessly. “I know.” Some of the bristling anger leaks out of him and he runs a hand over his hair. “I’m sorry,” I add lamely. I am.

  Kyle exhales audibly, studying me. Again I feel an unbearable urge to pet him—to stroke his hair, to kiss him gently, to smooth out his rough edges. His eyes are a stormy dark blue. I know I could soothe him, but I shouldn’t touch.

  “At least I’m not a fucking coward though. Or even a goddamn coward.” I say softly and I see more of that tension drain out of him as his lips curve up. Just a tiny bit.

  “We need to talk. I’ve been a fucking coward too.” He runs an impatient hand over his hair and I shiver. “We’re still partners. And I still need to help you with your problem.” He sounds grim, like he’s dreading it as much as me. I nod uncertainly. I can’t avoid him forever. I guess.

  “Coffee house.” Kyle grabs my hand and starts tugging me in a new direction. I think of Holly and Annika’s advice and feel uneasy suddenly. Do I let Kyle boss me around too much?

  I pull my hand away and stop suddenly, making him turn to me quizzically.

  “No,” I say, trying the word out.

  He’s staring at me with an adorably confused expression on his face. He swipes a hand over his hair again, in another gesture I’ve become way too fond of. He squints up at the cloudless sky, then back at me.

  “Where would you like to talk then?” His tone is mild.

  I hadn’t thought that far ahead and I can’t think of anywhere better that wouldn’t be dangerously private.

  “Um. The coffee house is fine,” I say, lamely.

  Kyle raises an eyebrow. “Right, then.” He takes back my hand and we start walking again, though he slows his stride to my shorter one so we’re side by side. It feels like we’re a couple and my nerves wake up again.

  “We’re supposed to look for patterns, right?” he says when we’re settled at a table and I’ve got my jumbo-sized tea. He tips his chair and leans back like he did that first day, so long ago. “Evidence: Took the fall for someone else’s fuck up. Doesn’t like performing in public. Camouflages herself in too much clothing.”

  He’s ticking these off on his fingers and I open my mouth to protest. But he holds up a hand. “No one is that cold all the time, Lani!” He continues. “Always focused on other people. Runs away.” I squirm under his level gaze. “What can you tell me about this person?”

  “Um. She’s shy?”

  He shakes his head. “Nope. Not shy. Try again.”

  I sigh and sip my tea because it shields my face. “She’s afraid?”

  “Of what?”

  I raise my eyes reluctantly to his so-blue ones. “Attention?”

  “Why?”

  I have a few ideas about that, but I stall. “She doesn’t like talking about herself.”

  Kyle snorts. “I got that. But this is important, don’t you think?”

  I don’t answer that but I know I’m cornered, and not by Kyle. I’ve left myself nowhere else to go.

  “Maybe I should tell you a little about her family,” I start. He looks wary and, as usual, I want to reassure him. “Not that they’re terrible! Her parents are great! They’re both schoolteachers. They love their kids and they drew a tough card.” I can see Kyle’s confusion. “No, not the daughter. Their son. He was born first and he was hard to raise. It’s kind of amazing they chose to have another one.” I let my hair fall in front of my face. Long hair is useful that way.

  “You’re going to have to just tell me. I’m not good at guessing.”

  I inhale. That means I have to speak for myself. In the first person. I shake my hair back and square my shoulders.

  “Scott’s five years older than me. By the time I was born my folks already knew he was severely autistic. He hardly talked, he couldn’t bear to be touched, he….” I hate talking about my brother. I hate it. It makes me angry and sad for him and for my parents and, mostly, I feel guilty, guilty, guilty.

  “Can you imagine having another child when your first is so difficult and you can’t do anything about it? No matter what you do or try it’s nearly impossible to get through to him?”

  Kyle’s face reve
als nothing. None of the usual pity or surprise or, even more often, the desperate desire to change the subject. So I’m forced to answer my own question.

  “They’re saints, Kyle. Their lives—the sacrifices—“ I shake my head. “They don’t complain. They can’t do anything else but manage him.”

  “So where do you fit in?”

  “I’m not much help. I’m younger and….”

  “It sounds like you’re a lot of help. You don’t ask for anything. You make sure the attention stays on him.”

  “That’s not a choice, Kyle. That’s a necessity. No one asked for this situation.”

  “Lani, that’s really tough. I can’t even imagine. But you at least get to leave. You get to have your own life. You get to come here. That should be a huge relief.”

  Gah! He knows me. He’s looking at me with too much understanding.

  “Okay, I feel guilty!” I’m annoyed that he made me admit all this.

  He leans across the table and squeezes my hand, then sags backward again. “Sometimes it sucks to be the one left standing,” he says cryptically and I’m left wondering what he would know about that. He continues before I can ask him.

  “You need some practice in the spotlight, girl.” He’s studying me. Which makes me uneasy. Which is the problem. I’m already shaking my head.

  “Yes,” he insists. “Take a piece of paper and write down five ways you could get some attention.” I open my mouth. “Make sure they’re things you’d really do. Then we’ll pick some.” I close it again.

  “So you’re, like, Marjorie now?” I grumble, but I dig through my bag for my notebook. He just smirks and stretches out while he waits for me. He’s more distracting now that I know what he tastes like. He catches me looking and raises one of those sardonic eyebrows. Yep. Sardonic.

  I scribble things down and cross some off, then add some more.

  “It’s not a term paper, Lani,” he interrupts. I put a hand up to block him out of my field of vision and he laughs. Finally I shove the paper over to him, my pulse racing. I know none of the things on that list would be hard for most people, but I’m out of my comfort zone here.

  Kyle scans the list and looks at me. “This is the best you can do?” He sounds amused.

  “What?” I rub my hands over my arms to warm up, even though I’m wearing a turtleneck—or two.

  “And there are only four things here.” He’s tapping the piece of paper against the table.

  “We’re just partners!” I blurt out, then flush. I’ve been tense and agitated since that damned kiss. And the words just fly out of my mouth. I chew my lip while I try to read his expression.

  “Okay,” he says carefully. It’s too hard to hold his gaze so I drop mine, fidgeting a little, but I need to say this.

  “I don’t want to start dating—or hooking up,” I clarify. And now I can’t draw my eyes away from his, which are steady and intense. “I mean, not that you necessarily want to do that. Or anything. It’s just that you kissed me and.…” I’m rambling.

  “And you kissed me back.” Damn him! “So what are you trying to say?”

  I take a shaky breath, wishing I could look away. “We should just be partners?”

  “For now or forever?” He’s hardly moved, which I know by now means something.

  “Now?”

  He frowns. “Why are you answering my questions with questions, Lani?”

  “Because?” I try out, but then I can’t help bursting into laughter when I see his face.

  “Lani—“ He’s scolding, but smiling too. He has an amazing smile—sort of sweet and sexy at the same time.

  “Okay, okay!” I hold up my hands in surrender. “But I’m not sure about any of this. It feels… risky.”

  Kyle nods. “Yep.” I’m surprised by his frankness.

  “And, you know—we wouldn’t want to mess up a good partnership,” I add quietly.

  He shakes his head. “Nope.” Which makes me smile again.

  “Partners really shouldn’t be…attracted to each other.” I’ve got to stop staring at his mouth.

  “Can’t help it.” He shrugs, but his expression is still intense. “Out of our control.” His mouth quirks and it’s like a shudder runs through my body.

  “No… Yes…” I swallow, at sea.

  He leans forward, too close now, but I’m mesmerized. “What about the kissing?” His eyes are so blue, his face so taut, his mouth….

  “Yes?” I whisper.

  “Thank God!” He exhales hard. “You had me really worried there!” He reaches for me and pulls me onto his lap before I can get out a squeak. “Now we can start on the attention.” And he kisses me.

  7

  Kyle

  I know this isn’t the kind of attention she meant, but I can’t help it. I spent the days since that kiss freaking out about what a mistake it was and reliving every hot second of it. I don’t know what the fuck I want from this either but it sucked waiting to hear if I was going to get to kiss her again—watching her eyes go all soft and unfocused and her breath hitch. I’d have to be a saint not to kiss her when I could, right? Not to enjoy what I can before she wises up and runs away again?

  I’m not really thinking all this while I’m kissing her though. I’m thinking something like soft, sweet, soft, warm, wet, mmm, sweet…and going into sensory overload over her smell, her taste, her little sounds, her lashes fluttering closed.

  Then she starts squirming on my lap and I remember where we are. I pull away, gasping. “Not a good idea, Lani—“ My voice may sound a little hoarse. She stills instantly and jumps to her feet, scowling.

  “We’re in the coffee house!” she hisses, her eyes darting around. I’m watching her so I don’t know who’s watching us, but I figure we’ve got an audience.

  “It’s a start,” I say, grinning.

  “Kyle! We just agreed we weren’t a couple—“ She’s practically stamping her foot and I don’t know why I’m so charmed. I’d rather still be kissing her (duh!) but teasing her, talking to her, hell, even arguing with her are pretty great too. It’s weird.

  “Right. We’re partners, which is even better. Partners with benefits.” It sounds really good, actually.

  She’s looking less flustered and more amused. She does have a really good sense of humor.

  “Limited benefits.”

  “Whatev,” I shrug, taking the chance to look around. People are watching us curiously. We’ve kept our voices down, but still.

  Lani shoves at my shoulder. “Pay attention to me!”

  I grin and I’m fucking proud of the way she’s standing up to me. That’s even weirder. “That’s the point, isn’t it? How does it feel?”

  She peers at me suspiciously, biting that really delicious lower lip of hers. Her neck is bent and her hair is sliding off her shoulder. And I’ve got to slow this thing down because I’m way too into her.

  “The attention,” I explain. She bristles. Shaking her head, she opens her mouth to say something sassy but stops. I’m disappointed. I like her comebacks.

  We stare at each other some more and my pulse starts speeding up again. I want that mouth. I want her back on my lap. I want to make her come. I’m about to groan and reach for her again when she snaps out of it.

  “Kissing me shouldn’t be homework!”

  Flushing, she straightens, turns, and flees, grabbing her coat and her fistful of scarves before bolting for the door.

  I get that I fucked up. Again. Though kissing her as homework would be pretty damned cool because then I wouldn’t have to justify it all the time…. I hate it when she runs but I kind of get it because this is crazy intense. Like pop-song intense, which is rattling me too.

  “Hey, Kyle.”

  I don’t need to look up from my food to know it’s not Lani. This time it’s Noah. I’ve got a table to myself in the dining hall because it’s Friday morning and campus is already emptying out for spring break. I haven’t heard from Lani since she ran out on me yesterday
.

  “Where’s Lani?” Noah says, taking a seat across from me.

  WTF? I scowl at him but that guy is fucking unflappable. And there’s a word that Lani would use. Aanndd there’s Lani in my head again. Fuck.

  Unlike Matt, Noah doesn’t try to start up any stupid conversations and I have to admit I kind of like that about him. It’s not until he takes out a book and starts reading in front of me that I realize maybe I wouldn’t mind talking.

  “So, you going home for break?” I cringe at myself. How the hell does one make small talk anyway? I fidget uncomfortably.

  “Yep.” He turns a page without raising his head. I lean over to see what’s so damn fascinating. “Whoa, what language is that?”

  “Latin.”

  I shake my head. Is this guy for real?

  “Noah, you’re being rude!” Holly sweeps into the seat beside him, plunking down a tray of food with one hand and motioning with the other for Annika to sit too. She looks wary but obeys. Over the last few weeks in class she seems to have thawed a little, which is probably Holly’s doing because it can’t be Matt.

  I watch with interest as Noah snaps to attention, shoving the book back into his backpack and clearing his throat.

  “Hey, Holl. When’s your flight?”

  I listen while they compare notes and plans. Holly’s flying home to San Francisco. Noah’s catching a train to Baltimore. Annika’s staying on campus because home’s too far away. Which means maybe Lani might hang around too, right? Normally I’d head home, sleep a lot, and chill out with old friends, but this year I told my dad I had too much work to do here. I’m getting a degree in avoidance.

  My phone dings as the conversation swirls around me. And this time it is Lani, thank fuck.

  Sorry I ran. Again.

  I blow out a breath as a huge weight lifts off my chest. I don’t want to admit how freaked out I feel when she leaves me like that. But I don’t know what to say either. We’re at an impasse. I’ve helped her with her problem. She’s helped me with mine. End of story. Partners. I glance around the table and discover Matt has quietly joined us.