Emily Blair watched the two men walk away, then smacked Tristan Davis’s hand. “Get up—they’re gone.”
Tristan shot upright, scowling at her. “You just like hitting me now, don’t you?”
She eyed the red creeping up his ears and reminded him, “Remember what you just promised me?”
He shot her a sidelong look and huffed, “Yeah, I remember. My memory’s fine.”
Emily grinned, satisfied. “Good. I’ll let you know what’s next, but you have to listen to me then. And you better be sure you’re actually qualified to teach me.”
Tristan arched an eyebrow. “Lesson one from Mr. Davis: never doubt your teacher’s qualifications. Got it?”
Emily just shrugged. “Sure, whatever.”
Elizabeth Wilson tilted her head, baffled. “What’s going on with you two? Are you hiding from someone? I seriously don’t get it.”
Emily jerked her chin toward Tristan. “Ask him. His business, not mine.”
Tristan glanced outside, face growing darker.
Elizabeth blinked. For a split second, she caught something in his expression—not just annoyance, but something heavier.
Tristan muttered, “Nothing. Just a couple of guys looking to collect on a debt.”
Elizabeth clearly didn’t buy it, but she could also tell Tristan didn’t want to elaborate, so she let it drop.
Instead, she perked up. “Mr. Davis, I totally forgot to ask—which university did you go to? Did you major in computer science too?”
Emily glanced over, just in time to see a smug little smirk tug at Tristan’s lips. He was obviously proud—barely restraining himself from bragging.
Tristan tapped his fingers on the table, chin lifted. “I graduated college at nineteen. Computer science, NTG.”
NTG? What was that?
Elizabeth looked completely lost. “NTG? Never heard of it.”


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