SADIE
"What am I even doing?"
I’m standing outside Trey Mercer’s apartment with one hand halfway to his doorbell, so technically, I know what I’m doing. It’s the why I’m starting to have problems with.
What exactly is my plan here?
Hi, remember me? The omega you saved from getting mauled three nights ago? Funny story, I also know where you live. Anyway, are you hiring?
Slowly, I lower my hand and start to turn away when the number of rejections I’ve received flashes through my head.
I look at the door again.
Worst case, he thinks I’m weird, tells me no and maybe reports me for showing up at his apartment like a complete creep.
Best case, I leave with a job.
At this point, I’ll take those odds.
Straightening my coat, I suck in a breath and press the doorbell before I can change my mind again. The sound rings somewhere inside and my stomach drops.
Oh, Goddess.
My heart is suddenly beating way too fast and I wipe my clammy palm against the side of my jeans as I wait. Almost a full minute passes with absolutely nothing happening, and I start to wonder if maybe he isn’t home.
The thought brings an embarrassing amount of relief.
Good. Great, actually. I came all the way here, rang the doorbell and nobody answered. I tried. That feels like enough effort to justify going home.
I’m already taking a step back when the door swings open behind me.
My foot hangs there for a second.
Should I keep walking? Maybe he didn’t see me.
"Can I help you?"
Well. So much for that.
The second I turn around, whatever speech I practiced on the way here disappears.
Trey is standing in the doorway, shirtless.
Oh, wow.
His hair is a mess, his eyes are slightly red and there’s a faint crease along one side of his face that makes it pretty obvious I dragged him out of bed.
I should apologize for that. I should probably also explain why I’m standing outside his apartment.
Instead, I get distracted by everything his lack of a shirt is exposing. Broad shoulders, a hard chest and defined abs that disappear beneath the waistband of his gray sweatpants.
Okay, that’s enough information.
I manage to make it back to his face. Two seconds later, I’m back at the abs.
Sadie. Please behave like you’ve seen a man before.
I force my gaze back where it belongs and open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Three years with a boyfriend and somehow I’m standing here acting like I’ve never seen a shirtless man before.
Trey lets me struggle for another few seconds before crossing his arms over his chest and leaning one shoulder against the doorframe.
"I was going to ask what the hell you’re doing here," he says, his voice still rough with sleep, "but now I’m more concerned about whether you’ve ever seen a bare chest before."
Heat rushes to my face. "I...I have."
"Hmmm." His eyes flick down at his chest before returning to me. "Could’ve fooled me."
"You’re probably wondering why I’m here," I blurt out, desperate to move on.
"Very much."
"Right." I suck in a breath. "First, I’m sorry for waking you up. I didn’t know you’d be sleeping this early. Obviously. Because if I did, I wouldn’t have..." I stop before the apology becomes its own problem. "Anyway. I’m Sadie Rhodes and I...I saw the post in your fan group chat about you looking for a tutor, and I know you’re probably going to get a ridiculous number of applications because, well..." I gesture vaguely at him. "You’re you. And mine could get buried somewhere in the middle, so I figured it made more sense to come here and tell you myself that I’m qualified. Very qualified, actually. And that you should at least hear me out before you hire someone else."
The end of my rambling leaves me slightly breathless, but his expression gives absolutely nothing away.
A smile, a frown, a command to get lost—anything would be helpful at this point. Anything that tells me whether I’m about to get a chance or spend the ride home replaying this entire conversation and dying inside.
"Can I?" I ask.
His brow lifts.
"Pitch myself," I clarify. "For the job."
Instead of answering, he pushes away from the doorframe. "How do you know where I live?"
My fingers tighten around the sides of my jeans. "I used to handle student records. Sometimes athlete paperwork too, and I saw your address on one of yours."
"And you just remembered it?"
"I remember things really well," I say. "Which is another reason you should hire me. I promise, I’m not a stalker."
He scoffs, but doesn’t answer. The silence stretches long enough for my confidence to start dying a slow death.
"Please say yes. Give me a chance." I whisper under my breath.
After what feels like an eternity, he steps away from the doorway. "Alright. Let’s hear it."
My eyes widen. That worked? He just let me in?
"You coming in or what?"
I jolt. "Yes. Sorry."
Before he gets the chance to change his mind, I hurry inside and the door clicks shut behind me.
Either the Moon Goddess has decided to give me a break or I impressed Trey Mercer enough to get in but considering my luck lately, I’m definitely not betting on the latter.
Following him farther inside gives me my first proper view of the apartment. It’s gorgeous, but not in the obnoxious rich-person way I expected. Clean, modern and expensive without looking like someone decorated it specifically to remind visitors they’re poor.
"Start talking."
He walks behind the kitchen counter and opens the fridge while I try to pull myself together.
"Okay." I clasp my hands in front of me. "I captain Boreal’s Quiz Bowl team. We compete with other schools, so I’m pretty good at learning a stupid amount of information in a short time and remembering it when it matters. I also have a perfect GPA. I’ve had one since freshman year."
He pulls a carton of juice from the fridge while I keep going.
"I’m a Statistics major, so data analysis, probability, research, all of that is basically my life. And if I don’t know something, I learn fast. Like, really fast."
Trey pours himself a glass, still not giving me much of a reaction.
I take another breath. "Basically, I’m as good at school as you are at hockey."
He chokes on his juice.
I jerk forward. "Are you okay?"
Slowly, he lowers the glass and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, shooting me a scowl. "Have you ever even been to one of my games?"
I hesitate. "Not....exactly."
His stare somehow gets flatter.
"I don’t need to." I add. "I’ve heard enough about how good you are. Your skills speak for themselves." I gesture toward myself. "My GPA speaks for me."
Either I’m seeing things but I swear the corner of his mouth lifts for a second before it disappears and his flat expression is back.
He grabs his glass and heads back toward the living room.
"The tutoring isn’t for school." He says.
"It’s not?"
"Not exactly." He drops onto the sofa. "It’s for the Ascension Trials."
My entire brain lights up.
Of all the things he could’ve possibly needed help with, it’s the one competition I’ve spent the last two years being forced to sit through from beginning to end? Oh, Goddess. I might actually get this job.
"I actually know a lot about the Trials," I blurt.
He blinks at me. "You do?"
"My old job, the one I just lost, handles some of the student staffing every year." I move a little closer. "My boss always put me on the team because I was good with the data, so I’ve worked every Trial since my sophomore year."
Something unreadable passes over his face.
"That helps," I add quickly. "I already know how most of it is organized."
"They changed a bunch of shit this year so it will be harder and different." He responds. "There’s a twenty-minute knowledge round. Pack history, laws, and hundreds of years of stuff I don’t care about. What I need is someone who can take years of information, cut out the useless parts and make the rest easy enough to remember."
I nod slowly. That I can do.
"There’s other stuff too." He adds. "I’m a Bioinformatics major. I’ve got a research paper due, coursework, assignments, hockey almost every day..." He trails off and sets his glass down. "If I’m adding this trial to my schedule, something’s gonna suffer."
"And you don’t want it to be hockey."
"Exactly." He points at me like I’ve finally said something useful. "So I need help with the academic stuff too."
That sounds much more reasonable than what I expected. And, conveniently, much closer to everything I’m actually good at.
Trey leans back against the sofa, one arm stretching across the backrest as his eyes settle on me. "So..."
I straighten slightly.
"Quiz Bowl captain." His fingers tap once against the arm of the sofa. "You think you can handle all that?"
Hold on. That needs a moment to register.
Is he actually offering me the job?
"Yes." The answer comes out embarrassingly fast. "Yes, I can handle it. Once I get my official employment letter from you, I can start immediately and—"
"You haven’t heard the terms." He cuts in. "Or what I’m paying you."
Honestly, he could offer me minimum wage and I would gladly take it. I need an employment letter more than I need dignity.
Still, I manage a much calmer smile, "How much?"
"A hundred an hour."
A hundred dollars an hour?
I do the math before I can stop myself. Even at ten hours a week, that’s—
Okay, maybe the Moon Goddess has decided to stop hating me.
"I can work with that," I say, trying very hard not to show my excitement.
"There’s one more condition."
I nod. "What?"
His gaze stays on mine. "You move in with me."