Four Of A Kind - Chapter 192: [4.10] Sexy Quadratics

Chapter 192: [4.10] Sexy Quadratics

The shift in her tone made me look up. Her posture had changed—shoulders squared, jaw set. Whatever was coming wasn’t about studying.

“I’m listening.”

“This morning. What you said at breakfast.”

Ah. So we were doing this now.

“Which part specifically?” I kept my voice neutral.

“The part where you basically friend-zoned all of us because your job is more important.”

I sighed. “That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what you meant.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Then what did you mean?” She leaned forward, eyes intense. “Because it sounded like you were pretending nothing happened between us.”

I stared her down, refusing to be the first to look away. “I meant exactly what I said. Your mother threatened my sister’s future. I can’t afford to play games that put Iris at risk.”

“We’re not playing games,” she said quietly.

“Then what do you call last night? The four of you fighting over me in the hallway like I’m some prize to be won?”

She flinched, and I immediately regretted my harsh tone.

“That’s not fair,” she said. “You kissed Vivienne.”

“And she kissed me. And you climbed into my lap. And Sabrina showed up in my room at midnight. And Harlow looks at me like I’m her personal hero.” I ran a hand through my hair in frustration. “None of this is normal, Cassidy.”

“So what? Normal is boring.”

“Normal pays my rent. Normal keeps Iris in school. Normal makes sure we eat.”

She was quiet for a moment, picking at a loose thread on her shirt sleeve. When she spoke again, her voice had lost its edge.

“So what happens now? We pretend none of it happened?”

The hurt in her voice made my chest ache. I’d never meant to hurt any of them. This job was supposed to be simple—tutor the problem child, collect the paycheck, keep moving. How had it gotten so complicated?

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t have all the answers. I just know I can’t afford to lose this job, and your mother made it very clear what happens if I cross the line with any of you.”

“She’s bluffing.”

“Maybe. But I can’t risk finding out she’s not.”

Cassidy stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. For a second I thought she was going to storm out, but instead she moved around the table until she was standing directly in front of me.

“Stand up,” she commanded.

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

I stood, towering over her despite her combat boots adding an inch or two to her height. She tilted her head back to maintain eye contact.

“What happened in my room was real,” she said fiercely. “I felt it. You felt it. And I’m not letting my mother or my sisters or your noble poverty complex take that away.”

“Cassidy—”

“Shut up and listen.” She stepped closer, invading my personal space. “You want to keep your job? Fine. Be professional. Tutor me. Drive Harlow. Help Vivienne with her schedules. Do whatever the hell it is you do with Sabrina.”

“I don’t do anything with—”

“I said shut up.” She poked my chest with her finger. “But don’t you dare pretend you don’t feel something for me. For us.”

Her words hung in the air between us, raw and honest in a way Cassidy rarely allowed herself to be.

“I’m not pretending,” I said softly. “I’m just trying to be smart about this.”

“Since when are you smart about anything?” A smile tugged at her lips.

“Fair point.”

We stood there, too close, neither willing to step back. I could smell her shampoo—something with coconut—and underneath it, the faint scent of sweat from her morning tennis practice.

“We still have the bet,” she reminded me. “You can’t back out of that.”

The bet. Where I became her owner for a day if she failed the math test. Which she had. The memory of our conversation made heat bloom in my chest.

“I haven’t forgotten.”

“Good.” She reached up and ran her finger along my jawline, a touch so light I barely felt it. “Because I plan to lose spectacularly.”

My brain short-circuited. “That’s… not how bets work.”

“It is when you want to be the loser.” She smirked, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Besides, you need to learn that you can have what you want sometimes. Even if it’s just for a day.”

Before I could respond, she stepped back, breaking the tension between us.

“Now teach me how to study for math,” she said, as if she hadn’t just melted my brain with her fingers and her words. “I need to at least pretend I’m trying.”

I cleared my throat, forcing my brain back online. “Right. Math. Let’s, uh, start with the fundamentals.”

“Sure,” she agreed, dropping back into her chair. “The fundamentals.” Her smirk made it clear she wasn’t talking about math.

I sat down slowly, trying to ignore the heat spreading through my body. This girl was going to be the death of me.

“So,” I began, opening her math textbook. “Quadratic equations.”

“Fascinating,” she deadpanned, but she leaned forward attentively. “Tell me more about these… equations.”

“They’re expressions that can be written in the form ax² + bx + c = 0.”

“Sexy.”

I shot her a look. “Are you going to take this seriously?”

“Absolutely.” She leaned her chin on her hand, batting her eyelashes dramatically. “I am very serious about math now.”

“Somehow I don’t believe you.”

“Smart boy.” She grinned. “But I will learn it. For entirely selfish reasons.”

“Which are?”

“The longer I keep my tutor, the more time I have to convince him I’m worth the risk.”

I stared at her, momentarily speechless. Cassidy Valentine didn’t do vulnerability. She didn’t admit to wanting things—or people. Yet here she was, laying her cards on the table without shame or hesitation.

“That’s… a long game,” I managed finally.

“I’m a tennis player. Long games are my specialty.” She pulled the textbook toward her. “Now, about these sexy quadratics…”

I laughed despite myself. “You’re impossible.”

“Difficult, yes. Impossible, no.” She winked. “Now teach me, tutor man. We have until four o’clock before you run away again.”

“I’m not running away.”

“Sure looks like it from where I’m sitting.”

I couldn’t deny that. Retreating to Philadelphia did feel like running away from the complications here. But what choice did I have?

“Fine,” I conceded. “Let’s make the most of the time we have.”

“Now you’re talking.” Cassidy flipped open her notebook to a fresh page of graph paper. “Teach me something I’ll remember when you’re gone.”