Chapter 9
For the rest of that week the scholarship plans took over any other concerns the three of us had. We ate, drank and breathed the requirement test and it didn't take hardly any time at all to see that it was having a positive effect on Jack.
On Tuesday he was restless and paced around the lounge room as he recited the answers to problems on angles and the different theories of building design. On Wednesday he didn't pace, but still shifted around a lot, but by Thursday, he was docile as a kitten and focused intently on the questions I shot at him.
We'd studied in the lounge room on Tuesday and Wednesday, but on Thursday Matt had one of his sports science friends round and they were going to do their tute questions in the main area. Jack and I relocated to his bedroom and I sat down on his computer chair while he made himself comfy on the bed.
"Alright then, let's start where we left off yesterday," I said, pulling out his huge first year fundamentals book.
We slipped into an easy rhythm, me asking a question, him answering, me correcting or congratulating. He got very few questions wrong, but when he did stuff up I saw that he got frustrated. I wanted to tell him that he was amazingly intelligent and that he didn't have to be word perfect, but I knew he would disagree. He was always pushing himself to do better, be better.
As he began giving a very long and detailed answer to a question I had posed, I took the time to study him. Dark hair and light eyes really are a killer combination, I mused. His hair was such a dark brown that in poor light, such as we were in at that moment, it looked almost black. He had probably gelled it into a proper style that morning, but bits of hair were curling out of place now and one piece was dangling over his forehead. He leant against the wall his legs up and his arms resting on his knees. He looked relaxed for once and I was glad.
He was still answering the question so I allowed my eyes to leave his unruly hair and startling eyes and wander down his slightly crooked and knobbly nose (broken three times on the footy field at last count) to his lips. And that's where the real jackpot lay. When he had kissed my forehead on the Monday night I had barely had time to register what he had done, but the sensation had become burnt into my memory. It had felt soft and warm, but there’d also been the slight scratch of stubble. He had gorgeous lips, I decided, perhaps some might find them a bit too full for a guy, but he could totally pull them off.
"Um, Tally. You still with me?"
I snapped my eyes up to his and immediately felt a blush shoot up my neck and blossom in my cheeks.
"Sorry, um…no I think I got a bit lost there for a moment," I stammered, flipping uselessly through the text book trying to find what he had been talking about. "Wait a minute, I'll find it in a sec."
He watched me for a while then got off the bed, crouched down beside me and laid his hands over mine effectively cutting off my frantic search.
"I think you were already on the right page," he said, clearly trying to hold back a grin.
I sighed and let myself relax. "Go ahead, laugh it out," I said wearily. "You caught me checking you out, fairs fair."
"Why would I want to laugh?" Jack asked, his words eclipsed by a smile tugging the edges of the lips I had been so enamoured of moments before.
I looked at him then, one of the very few times I had ever been in the position on looking down at him rather than up. His face was a lot closer than I had realised and I wanted to turn away, but I just couldn't make myself do it. "You don't want to laugh?" I asked, trying to keep focussed on the conversation.
"Oh no," he said, his voice slowly losing the amusement it’d previously been laced with, "laughing is the last thing on my mind."
"I'll see if they've got one," said Matt's voice from just on the other side of the door and, in a flash, Jack had straightened and moved away and my gaze was back down on the book.
The door opened and Matt stuck his head in. "Sorry for interrupting," he said cheerily, "but you guys don't have any white-out do you?"
There was a tub of the stuff sitting on the desk right in front of me and I chucked it at my brother and quickly returned my gaze to the book in case he noticed how red and flustered I was.
"Cheers," he grinned, "carry on." And the door shut behind him.
There was a pause and then, just as it seemed Jack was going to say something, I hitched the book higher and said, in my most business-like voice, "So I missed that last thing you were saying, let's have it again please, Mr Whitby."
Jack shot me a look which told me that he knew I was trying to avoid discussing what had happened a moment before, but he obediently began reciting the answer to me and, that time, I refused to allow myself to get distracted.
It was way too dangerous.