In Too Hard (Freshman Roommates Trilogy, Book 3) Read Online Free Page B

me.
    I walked the few feet to him and took the piece of paper. “What’s this?”
    “I put it together last night. It’s a broad—like side of the barn, broad—breakdown of the characters’ names and basic plot points of each of the different book ideas I have. Some even have working titles.”
    “Great,” I said, scanning down the rather long list. He hadn’t been kidding when he’d said he’d had a lot of different ideas for novels. “This will be really helpful.” I meant it. Already my mind was thinking of ways to organize his notes, how the different puzzle pieces might fit together.
    “I’m sure once you dig in, you’ll find a lot of rogue notes. Some that don’t belong to any of the book ideas on this.” He tapped the back of the paper I still held, and it rippled in my hands. He sat on the edge of his desk. I wanted to look at his outline, but his guest chair had two boxes on it, so I leaned against the edge of his desk next to him.
    We were close to each other, though not touching. His hand was on the desk, not far from my thigh.
    He was wearing a black fleece pullover, with a hint of red tee showing at the neck. Blue jeans and pure white running shoes.
    And he smelled like…sex. No, like intelligence. Like sexy intelligence.
    It was good he was going to be gone for three weeks—there was no way I’d be able to concentrate on his pile of boxes if he was here in this small room with me.
    “Like Esme,” he said, pointing to the name at the top of the paper I held. “I know before I decided on the name Esme, I called her something else in some of my notes, but I’m not really sure what.”
    “Esme. Got it.” I looked around the room again. “Well, you’ve certainly got the squalor covered.”
    A laugh escaped him. It sounded like it almost hurt, like maybe he didn’t do it very often. He chuckled along with us in class, but this was different.
    “Yeah, the squalor for sure.” He shook his head and gave an exaggerated puppy dog-eye look at me. “But not the love .”
    I put my head down pretending to read his list. But I was really trying to hide the smile that came across my face because he got my Salinger reference, and for the playful look he gave me.
    He’d always been somewhat jovial—if distracted—in class, but I would never say he’d been playful with us.
    Guess I wasn’t his student anymore in truth.
    I looked back at him and he was staring down at me with humor and warmth. I couldn’t hide my smile any longer, though I tried to damper it a bit from how happy this whole situation made me.
    “Wow,” he said, in almost a whisper. “You’re a pretty girl, but when you smile…beautiful.”
    I started to look away, but didn’t. This was not some Bribury boy to play flirty games with. Billy Montrose was a man, and if he wanted to tell me he liked my smile, I was going to look him in the eye as he did.
    “Thanks,” I said, trying to keep my voice light and breezy. Like men I’d been obsessed with for five years told me I was beautiful all the time.
    My frankness seemed to take him a little aback. He straightened, moving away from me just a tiny bit, as he studied me. “You didn’t smile a lot in class,” he said.
    “Funny, when you laughed at my Esme joke, I was thinking you didn’t do that in class…ever.”
    “I didn’t?”
    I shook my head. “Nope. Never an out-and-out laugh.”
    He turned his head straight ahead, looking toward the door. “Huh. I thought you guys cracked me up all the time.”
    “Well you, I don’t know, chuckled with us. But never a big laugh like you just did.”
    Still looking at the door and not at me he said, “Was I a total dick? You can tell me. Your grades have already been submitted.” There was a hint of joking in his voice, but I thought it sounded forced.
    “No, not a dick at all. Just not a big wisecracker. Most profs aren’t.”
    He shook his head, then looked back at me. “No I suppose not.” Keeping his gaze steady on