“That's a weird fucking question, Cassie," he says. We're lying in the back of his truck looking up at the stars like we have nothing better to do even though its finals week and Colton has an exam tomorrow. I'm a terrible tutor. "It's not a weird question," I say. "You said you liked hanging out with me because your identity isn't entirely defined by football when you're with me." Colton laughs. "I definitely didn't say it like that." "What?" "You make it sound… smarter." "That's all yo...u, Colton," I say. "I'm just rephrasing what you said. You're so much smarter than you think you are, you know." Colton laughs. "Nah. I'm a dumb jock." I roll over onto my stomach, my arms on his chest. "I hate that I said that," I groan. "It was before I knew you. You're not a dumb jock." "I know my strengths," Colton says, his hand gripping my ass cheek. "School is not one of them." "You have an A in English and a B in History." "That's all your doing." "No.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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