“Why not?” When he doesn’t say anything, I finally look up to find him already watching me. “What do you struggle with? Comprehension? Are you a slow reader?”
“All of it.” He shifts in his chair, seemingly uncomfortable. “It’s always been a struggle for me to read. Ever since I was little.”
“Have you ever been tested for anything? Are you dyslexic?”
“Yeah, I’ve been tested.” He sighs. “And yeah, I’m dyslexic.”
At least he’s being open with me. “You should read out loud to me.”
“What is this, second grade?”
“Look, if you want me to help you with this class, I first need to assess you. It helps me to know what your weaknesses are, so we can work on them together.” When his gaze drops, like he can’t look at me, I decide to soften my approach. “Just know that everything we do in this room is between us. I won’t tell anyone.”
He lifts his head, those beautiful green eyes meeting mine once more, and I find myself getting lost in them for a second. “I don’t like talking about this shit.”
“I understand.”
“I’m a bad reader and it makes me feel…stupid.” His gaze drops once again.
“You’re not stupid.”
“I know I’m not.” He glares at me, sounding offended.
“You just struggle. We all struggle with something.” I rise to my feet. “I’ll sit next to you, so I can see the passage you’re reading.”
As Knox watches me carefully, I maneuver around the table, settling into the chair to his left, silently marveling at his size. He’s so tall. And broad and strong and he smells good. Warmth radiates from him as if trying to entice me to scoot closer, but I resist.
Barely.
Trying to ignore him, which is impossible, I reach out and grab the book, cracking it open to the first chapter. “Have you started it yet?”
“Yeah, remember? I read a few pages last night before I gave up.” He takes the book from me, our fingers brushing, sending that now familiar tingle of electricity straight up my arm. I’m sure the feeling is one-sided. He can have his pick of women every single day of the week. “Want me to pick up where I left off?”
“Sure.”
Clearing his throat, he begins to read. Almost immediately, there’s some struggle with a longer word as he slowly sounds it out. When he sees the word ‘there’ on the page, he says ‘that’ instead, and I quietly correct him. He does that a few times—assuming a word is something that it’s not, which I’ve never seen before.
But those are his only mistakes. As he keeps going, he picks up his pace, reading a little faster. Nowhere near as fast as me, but I’m a freak, so I don’t count.
He doesn’t stop until he finishes the entire first chapter, and when he sets the book on the table, he glances over at me.
“I was terrible.”
I shake my head. “No, you actually weren’t.”
“That took like…thirty minutes.”
“That’s okay. It’s a long-ish chapter.” I hesitate for only a moment. “Did you like it?”
“It definitely feels more up-to-date than some of the usual stuff we’re assigned.” He shrugs.
I can’t help but smile. “It was released in 2017, so it should feel more modern.”
“It’s not bad.”
“Just wait.” I peer at him. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Yeah.”