Bad Judgment by Meghan March

think about him when you touch yourself tonight .
    Ryker’s still smiling when he comes back with a small coffee and a white paper bag. He sets both on the table between us before sliding into his seat.
    I brace myself for more innuendo, but he says nothing as he pulls out his Trust and Estates casebook and opens it.
    Nothing? Seriously? Just when I think I’ve got Ryker figured out, he throws me off.
    He uncaps a highlighter. “All right, let’s do this.”
    His sudden change into all business jolts me into the same mode.
    I lay my highlighter down and meet his stare. “Have you done any of the reading for this class this semester?” I’m pretty sure I know the answer, but I want to hear it from him.
    There’s no hesitation before he answers. “Not a single page.”
    “Have you done any of the reading for any of your classes this semester?”
    “No.”
    Even though I already figured that was the truth, I’m still stunned by his admission. It really, truly seems like he’s planning on failing . . . and why? Because he’s throwing some kind of tantrum?
    “If you aren’t going to do any of the reading, why are you even going to class?”
    “Because I promised my dad I wouldn’t drop out.” His answer fits with the story Justice Grant told me.
    “And so failing out is a better solution?”
    “I’m not going to fail. It’s more of an experiment to see how little effort I can put forth and still pass.”
    My frustration grows. “And that makes sense, how?”
    “What part of this is your business?” Anger leaks into his expression, and his tone takes on a defensive cast.
    “The part where you’re supposed to be here to study with me and you don’t actually plan to study at all.”
    He picks the casebook up with both hands and drops it on the table with a thud. “I’ve got my book open, don’t I? I’m not going to sit here and stare at you for a couple hours without at least pretending that I’m doing something.”
    His admission cracks my shell of annoyance, and I push down the heat that blooms at his words. At least, I try.
    “I won’t get any work done if you sit and stare at me. You’re distracting without even trying.”
    His anger drains away at my unintentional admission, and his panty-dropping smile slides over his face again.
    “Glad to hear I’m not the only one distracted as hell.”
    “Study date,” I say, almost more to remind myself than him. When his smile fades away, I want to kick myself for a moment. That’s not why we’re here. “Okay, this is what we’re going to do. You missed a hundred or so pages of reading, and that would be a pain in the ass even if it was only one class, but you missed it in four. Have you taken any lecture notes at all?”
    He shakes his head, all business again.
    “All right, then I’ll give you my notes.”
    His eyebrows go up, because it’s a pretty generous offer.
    “But—” I continue.
    “There’s always a catch.” He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest. “Go ahead,” he says.
    “You’re going to start reading for all of your classes, and you’re going to catch up on the reading for the class that I’m not in—or you’re going to find someone who is as nice as I am to take pity on you.”
    His eyes narrow on me. “Why would you help me out? You’ve gone out of your way to shut me down for two years.”
    Shit. I knew this was too easy. Why didn’t I come up with an answer beforehand? I knew he’d start to wonder if I deviated too much from my normal blow-off behavior. Think, Justine. Think.
    “Because I think it’s bullshit that you’re going to settle for a barely passing grade when we both know you’re capable of so much more. This is the easiest year we have. You worked your ass off to get the GPA you have—you can’t deny that. Why would you let it all go? Prove that you can finish what you started, and finish strong.”
    I feel like a coach delivering a locker-room speech at halftime, but my words