Wilder (The Renegades) by Rebecca Yarros Page A

was not getting off the hook that easily.
    “Did you take notes?” He lifted his arms behind his neck, his biceps flexing.
    Don’t get distracted. “Of course I did.”
    He shrugged. “Then what’s the issue?”
    My mouth hung for a second before I managed to close it. “What’s the issue? You’re not in class!”
    “But you are.”
    “And?”
    “And you’re my tutor. So you have notes and can catch me up, right?”
    Do not smack him. Don’t do it. I sucked in a deep breath through my nose. “I am your tutor, not your teacher. You have to be there! Damn it, Paxton, there’s more than yourself to think about. My scholarship rides on your grades, too!”
    “So do all of their jobs,” he said quietly, his hand sweeping to encompass everyone on the pipe. “Leah, if I don’t make grades, the documentary is canceled.”
    “Wait. What? What kind of producer would tie a movie to your academics?”
    “The kind who shares my last name.” He wiped away his sweat the same way Landon had, by lifting his shirt, and I kept my eyes locked on his face. I knew one look at those cut lines and I’d be a puddle of hormones, which wouldn’t do either of us any good.
    “Your last…” His dad owned the boat on Bermuda, but how much money did he really come from? “Is your dad the producer?”
    He nodded. “Yeah, and he agreed to the movie as long as my grades held. It’s his way of getting me to finish college.”
    The ship pitched again, and my hand tightened on the railing as Paxton’s gripped my waist. He inhaled with a hiss and then dropped his hand like I’d burned him. I knew my waist was thicker than the athletic goddesses he hung out with, but really? “Well, you can’t finish college without making grades, so maybe you should get your ass to class.”
    “Well, I make the tricks, or the studio exec pulls the movie,” he snapped, then closed his eyes for a moment before he opened them. “Leah, I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t. That’s why I need you.”
    Those blue eyes cut straight through my anger, or maybe it was the damnable situation he was in.
    “Half this camera crew has families they need to support, and…well, there’re more people involved than just you and me, so you tell me what I’m supposed to do.”
    “I don’t know,” I whispered.
    “I don’t, either. I know I have to study. I also have to practice, keep in shape, plan the next stunt, check on the one after that, and keep my sanity with a camera in my face every five seconds. I told you this wasn’t going to be easy.”
    “Why would you sign up for all of this?” I found my hand on the skin of his bicep before I realized I’d even reached for him, as if the physical connection of our skin could make me understand something that was utter insanity to me. “Not famous enough already? Not rich enough?”
    “Sure, partly. This will set our careers for years, and the opportunities are incredible, but more than that”—his eyes flickered to the camera—“look, I have my reasons. I should have come to class. I should have studied. I made a choice, and it might have been the wrong one.”
    “That’s some apology,” I huffed.
    He reached for my face but dropped his hand before he connected. “I’m not apologizing. If skipping class was what it took to get you up here, then I’m okay with it.”
    “Of course you are,” I said with a sarcastic twinge, but the sting had left my voice.
    “Well, since you came all the way up here, do you want to see some cool stuff?” he asked, his Wilder grin plastered on his face.
    “Are you asking if I’m ready for an adventure?” I tossed his catch phrase at him.
    “I’m asking if you’re ready to witness one,” he answered. “Landon, toss up a helmet?”
    “Oh, hell no, I’m not getting on anything that slides down this ramp. You’ve lost your fool mind.”
    He caught the helmet easily and slipped it onto my head, his fingers ghosting across the skin of my throat