I wanted to leave, but now I find my legs taking me to her. Like I’m intrigued by her. Then I stop and freeze. Intrigued by her? What’s wrong with me?
After I reach her table, I just stand there. I don’t know what I’m waiting for. For her to see me and…what? Tell me I’m not alone and she understands what I’m going through? Of course she doesn’t understand. No one does.
Chapter Five
Sophie
Damian is late.
I don’t know why I thought he would come on time—heck, I thought he might even arrive before me. I guess there’s always this hope in me that people are good, or at least that they strive to be, no matter what they’re going through. But I seriously doubt a guy like Damian would jump for joy at the prospect of spending every afternoon with a tutor.
But I like to give everyone a chance, so I take out my novel and dive right back in as I wait. It doesn’t take long for the real world to disappear and be replaced by this wonderful fictional world the author created. True it’s not a fantasy, but it feels like a magical world because the book is so perfect. I’ve laughed, cried, swooned, and yelled along with the characters as though I’ve felt like I was going through it myself. And of course the romance is super duper chef’s kiss. If I were to die today, I would definitely die a happy woman.
The female main character thinks the boy she’s in love with wrote her all these romantic poems, but it turns out it’s really her best friend. He assumes she’d never fall for a nerdy guy like him because she’s like the most popular girl at school. And she’s also super nice, which means that basically all the guys at school want a chance to be with her. But she has her eyes on the gorgeous new guy—not because of his good looks, though. Because she thinks he wrote the poems. Our young hero doesn’t realize that the girl of his dreams would rather choose a person with a good heart over good looks—
Someone clears their throat, yanking me out of my book. I lift my head and find a guy standing before me. Dark hair, hazeleyes, a leather jacket instead of the school’s green blazer, and the top two buttons of his shirt undone. And he took off his tie.
“You changed into your leather jacket?” I blurt before I can stop myself. Then I quickly shake my head. “I mean, hi! You came. Great. I mean, you’re a little late, but that’s okay. Did you have trouble finding the library?”
He pulls out the chair across from me and drops down on it. “I found it all right.”
“Cool.” I place my bookmark in the spot I’m up to and stuff my book into my backpack. “Are you ready to start?”
He folds his arms across his chest and dips the chair back a little. “No.”
I freeze, reaching for my chemistry textbook and glance at him.
“But I’m here, aren’t I?” he grumbles.
“I know it can be frustrating,” I say as I open the textbook to the correct page. “But needing a tutor has nothing to do with intelligence. I’ve tutored lots of super smart people. Sometimes, people just need a little help.”
He keeps his eyes on me for a bit before saying, “Good to know.”
“Don’t worry.” I put on an encouraging smile. “You’ll see that you’ll know this stuff backward and forward before you can even blink. Not to pat myself on the back or toot my own horn, but I am a very gifted tutor.” I flash him another smile, hoping to calm him down in case he’s nervous, or at least to sprinkle some positivity into what feels like negative air.
He tightens his arms over his chest and glares down at my textbook.
I clear my throat. “So let’s start with chem. I’m sorry Mrs. Sullivan was rude to you at the start of class. She’s a pretty tough cookie, but then again, most teachers at Harrington Bay Academy are—”
“Don’t do that next time,” he says.
My lips snap shut for a second. “What?”
“Fight my battles. I can handle myself.”
“I’m sure you can,” I say as I reach for my notebook. “But she didn’t understand the circumstances. I just felt like she needed an explanation.” Before he can say anything, I continue with, “Look, I’m your tutor, okay? I’m responsible for catching you up and making sure you understand what’s going on in your classes. If a teacher is being a jerk to a new student because she wants to project her authority or whatever, I’m going to stand up for said student. It’s ridiculous for her to assume your old school is at the same level as this one. Mine certainly wasn’t.”
He lifts a brow. “You were a new student?”
“No. I’ve been on scholarship at this school since ninth grade. But coming to this high academic school after my middle school? I felt like I walked into a college class. All the students were so much more advanced than me. It took some time before I was up to speed. The same with the friends I made with the other scholarship kids.”
He watches me for a few seconds. I have no idea how to read his face and have no clue what’s going on in his head. But it feels like he’s staring at me for ten hours.
He tears his gaze away. “Never thought the school’s goody-goody would stick up for the school reject.”
“First of all, I don’t appreciate the term ‘good-goody.’ Second of all, you’re not the school reject, and you sure as heck won’t be under my watch. So if it’s okay with you, can we start? I still need to assess where you’re holding and how much we need to work on.”
He grunts as a response. I try not to sigh. I knew it might not be easy tutoring this dude, but like I said before, I want to be positive. Considering he’s the son of the principal, of course I feel more pressured to make sure he understands all this stuff.
