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“The glum face? Is everything okay?” He ushered me to a table.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You know, I’m a good listener as well as an excellent tutor.”
“Modest too, apparently.” I managed a weak smile.
“Let me guess, guy troubles.”
“How did you—” I stopped myself. The last thing I wanted was to discuss Jason with my tutor.
“Nine times out of ten, it is.” He shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal, but something told me it was. “Want to talk about it?”
“Not really, no.” I pulled out my notebook.
“You know, I wouldn’t have put you with Mr. Hotshot Football Player.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” My defenses went up.
“I just meant... football players usually attract a certain type of girl.”
“You don’t know anything about me or Jason, Darcy.” I really didn’t appreciate his tone or the insinuation in his words.
“Sorry, this is coming out all wrong.” He ran a hand through his hair. “All I mean is, I’ve been on campus long enough to witness my fair share of heartache.” There was something in his tone... something personal.
“You don’t like the football team very much, do you?”
“I guess you could say that.” His expression hardened.
“They don’t all fall into the typical jock stereotype, you know?”
“I’m sure there are exceptions to the norm.”
There were. Jason, Asher, Cameron, even Gio, and Griffin—for all his goofy ways—were good guys. They played hard and they loved hard.
“But...”
“But I guess I don’t understand how intelligent, independent, ambitious girls are so willing to be second string to a sport.”
I didn’t know what I’d expected... but it hadn’t been for him to pick up on my insecurity.
“When you love someone, Darcy, you support their passions, their hopes and dreams.” It came out harsher than I intended.
“I can see I hit a nerve. I didn’t mean—”
“Jason and I love each other very much. He supports my dreams and I support his.”
Why was I justifying myself to him? I didn’t owe him or anyone else an explanation about why I was with Jason. You didn’t choose love, it chose you, and Jason Ford had stolen my heart a long time ago.
“I’m sure he’s a good guy.” Darcy finally opened his notebook.
“He is.”
I’d wanted to come to our tutor session and focus on something else besides the gnawing pit in my stomach. But now there was an awkward tension in the air as Darcy talked me through the life cycles of protozoan parasites.
We worked like that for an hour, in stilted conversation potted with thick silences.
I’d never been more relieved when he announced we were done. I hurried to pack up my things and abruptly stood.
