”Alright,” she replies, honest amusement lacing her tone, “If you say so.” He doesn’t really sound like he means it, or, rather, he sounds distracted — too quick to assure her that her state of undress is fine by him. His cheeks are pink, adorably so, and Vegas’ grin spreads as he opens his textbook. She watches his hands as he leafs through the pages and has to tear her eyes away from his fingers when he points to the problem he’s having trouble with. It’s a sentence that needs diagramming and as her eyes scan the page, she realizes the problem next to it has been done completely incorrectly. “Alright, before we start something new, want to fix the one you’ve already done?” she questions, arching her eyebrows and leaning in closer to be able to look into the book. “First of all, you’re meant to separate the subject and the predicate with a line, like this.” She places her hand over his and guides it to the paper, drawing for him and letting her touch linger for just a few seconds before pulling her hand away.
As her eyes focus on the problem again, she realizes she has no idea where to start explaining why everything he’s written is wrong. She recalls he’s struggled with this for awhile now, and as Vegas takes a moment to bite thoughtfully on her lower lip and think it over, she realizes he’s probably tried every method of memorization there is, and she’ll have to go off the books if she really wants him to understand it. She leans back suddenly, out of his space and away from the book, clapping her hands together. “You know what? I’ve got a better idea. Lecturing you isn’t going to get us anywhere, or else you’d be passing with flying colors. I think it would be more effective to teach you in an… interactive way.”
The grin is back, sharp at the edges. She crosses her legs delicately under the table, doing her best to ignore the suffocating sexual tension that seems to have filled the room. “How about we play a game instead? Sound good to you? Then if you don’t think it’s working we’ll work through the problems one by one and try things the boring way.” She shrugs casually, trying to set him at ease. “Up to you. But it’s worth a shot, right?” God, he looks nervous, and it’s adorable on him, completely delicious and drawing her in.
Jude’s eyes follow the swift movements of her fingers, the heat of her skin against his, more than the actual lines she’s making – words feel insignificant when his heart is drumming unevenly against a thick chest. He’s far too stubborn to let his actions reflect his inward desires, so he doesn’t let his gaze flicker past the paper. At least he likes to think he’s got it under control – he’s definitely not the poster child for stifled impulses.
“Yeah,” he grunts in compensation for his lack of response. He makes no acknowledgment towards her corrections – he can’t. How is he supposed to focus? Is it even possible?
Jude wants to think that this idea is feasible in some sense; like there’s more reason behind it than his own, but he has yet to find out what exactly it is. It feels like an event, something to prepare for. And that terrifies him.
His eyebrows perk up unconsciously in absent response to her words. A change of pace could be beneficial, especially since he’s begun to feel highly uncomfortable in the place he’s in. “Interactive,” he mumbles, subtle amusement tainting his voice. He struggles to detach from his own boyish, immature interpretation of the statement, but he’s never had any luck in that aspect. If he could separate himself from himself, the bad from the good, he wouldn’t be here.
“Okay,” he agrees quickly, before he can find a reason to convince himself out of it. In an immediate sense, the idea doesn’t occur to him as anything negative. Jude does want to change, but he would prefer to do it in a place of benign confusion; that way, it can’t hurt him.
