AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He blinked his ridiculously long lashes in surprise. “No?”
Gee, go figure. He’d never heard the word. “If you have something to say, you can say it right here.” Not that I really cared what he’d have to say. I was surprised he even knew my name—except he couldn’t have been bothered to get the pronunciation right.
“Fine,” he muttered, the first sign of his perfect mask cracking. He took a baby step closer. “Someone mentioned that you offer services. I’m not sure how much you charge or whatever, but I’d be willing to pay a bit extra for…well, for discretion.”
“Hate to break it to you, Mr. Star Football Player, but I’m not a prostitute.”
His reaction was worth the joke, with a strangled inhale and rapid blinking. “I didn’t say—” Connor stopped sharply on the word, hazel eyes flashing before he closed them. “I meant yourtutoringservices. Trust me, I wouldn’t be coming to you for anything else.”
The little dig fanned the flames of my anger higher, with a blistering heat spreading across my chest. Before I lashed out and said something that’d probably bite me in the butt later, I turned back toward my locker.You are alone in the hallway, I told myself, going back to sorting through my things. I moved onto cracking my right hand’s knuckles.Where did you putPride and Prejudice?
People who thought they were perfect, that every road they walked on was paved with gold, bothered me to no end. With Connor Bray, it was worse because everyone else thought he was perfect, too. He was one of the few students at Brentwood High that lived on Bleeker Avenue, the section of Brentwood nearly exclusive to lawyers and doctors. Anyone with heaps of money.
His football rap sheet began in freshman year when he blew the coaches away with his tryouts. As the best catcher and the fastest runner, he was the very first freshman ever brought up onto varsity as a relief player. Sophomore year, he got more field time than some of the seniors. By junior year, he’d turned into the best player on the team—and with all the muscle he’d put on from years of commitment, he quickly transformed into a crowd favorite, too.
And this year he and girlfriend, Jade, were a shoo-in for homecoming king and queen. Though it was normally Brentwood tradition for the quarterback to be king, there was no doubt in my mind that Connor would get the title. He was dating the head cheerleader, of course, who was practically already crowned queen. They were Brentwood’s It-Couple.
“I need help with Algebra II,” Connor went on, inching forward as much as he dared. “You tutor people, right?”
I am alone in the hallway and the annoying voice in my ear is a gnat. Or a fly. A bug to be squashed.
“Macy—”
“It’sMaisie,” I snapped, putting emphasis on theZsound, giving in to the burning. “And what in your concussion-riddled brain made you think ‘hmm, I need a tutor, might as well go to the girl my friends voted most likely to marry a math book’?”
Instead of seeming intimidated by my reaction, by the severity in my voice, the jerksmiled.
Out of everything that had happened today, that irked me the most. “‘Maisie Matthews, math geek extraordinaire,mustbe a tutor, and of course she’ll fall at my feet for the chance to tutorme.’”
“Wow, you nearly nailed my unmistakable baritone.”
“It’s easy to nailstupid.”
Connor tipped his head to the side, that amused smirk turning wicked. “You know from experience?”
I clenched my jaw so tightly that it was a surprise my teeth didn’t shatter. “Anddiscretion?” I scoffed on the word, slamming my locker shut. “Who do you want to hide it from? Your football buddies? Heaven forbid they think you have more brain cells than them. Except you probably don’t if you’re needing a tutor the second week of the school year.”
Connor arched a brown eyebrow, his calm demeanor cracking like a sheet of ice. “I’m flattered you know so much about me. Didn’t realize I had so many fans wandering the Brentwood halls. Want me to autograph your math book?”
I slapped the crumpled piece of textbook paper against his chest, hard enough to rock him back a step. “My tutoring roster is already full,” I bit out. “Find someone else.”
I didn’t wait to see if he caught the paper before I barreled past him. My sneakers squeaked at the hasty getaway, and I fumbled to get my satchel strap over my head.
God, who did he think he was? A frustrated scream built in the back of my throat as I stomped away, refusing to let the brief interaction jar me. Because it didn’t. Boys like Connor didn’t get to me.Especiallynot Connor. Come tomorrow morning, he wouldn’t even remember my name. Not that he’d gotten it right the first time.Guess Mr. Football Star isn’t as perfect as he wants everyone to believe.
That night, Alex lounged against his green sofa with his socked feet resting in my lap. I tried to breathe through my mouth since his feet were way too close to my nose, and though it was something that always irked me, I let them perch there, at least while I figured out what to say to start a conversation.Anyconversation.
I had a copy ofMath Challenges For Future Mathematiciansopen on my lap, thumb bookmarking the page. My older sister, Jozie, had gotten the workbook for me right before she left for college two weeks ago, and though it was a thoughtful present, the concepts and equations were way too easy. I hadn’t had the heart to tell her that the workbook was meant for middle schoolers, but worked through it anyway.
Or tried to. My concentration now had dwindled to the barest amounts.
Alex slammed his thumbs against his videogame controller, heels digging into my thighs as he surged forward periodically. The graphics raging on the TV screen took up the air for dialogue, as did his grunts when he inevitably died and respawned. For a guy who’d been playing videogames since he was five, he absolutely sucked.
“Can I ask you a question?” I watched him as I spoke. He didn’t turn toward me, but he did raise his eyebrows. I took that as ago ahead. “Do you think it’s lame that I’m on the Most Likely To list this year?”
I hated even asking the question. It reeked—almost as bad as Alex’s feet—of insecurity. But as soon as I had read the words at the lunch table, a stone-sized weight settled in my stomach, and as the day passed, it grew and grew so much that my stomach physically ached.
“It’s not lame,” he said, voice flat with concentration. “I was on it last year, you know. Doyouthink it’s lame to be on the list?”
