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His voice is smooth and rich like maple syrup. My poor brain wants so badly to come up with something witty or charming to say to him, but all I can get myself to do is smile at him. As he leads me across the penthouse to an adjoining hallway, I stop in my tracks.
I’ve lived in this city all my life, but I’ve never seen it like this before. The floor to ceiling windows look out over the hustle and bustle, making everything seem small and inconsequential as it happens way below us. It’s like I’m on top of the world.
I feel a hand at my elbow and look up to see Mr. Harlow. My face goes so hot I worry that it’ll catch on fire. It’s an innocent touch, he means nothing by it at all, but it makes me feel like I’m burning up anyway. He guides me over to the window gently.
“You can see the ocean on days like this,” he says, sounding almost excited. “It’s right over there.”
He drops my arm as he leans to point where he wants me to look. The sight’s impressive, but I have a hard time focusing on it when he’s standing so close. He smells so good that I have to fight taking deep breaths of his scent. It’s almost overwhelming how happy it makes me to be close to him like this.
“Thanks you,” I finally say, my voice almost hoarse with nerves. “For this job, I mean.”
And for two hours of getting to see how the other half lives, and for the extra cash, and for being my crush—
“You came highly recommended,” he says with a reassuring smile. “Olivia’s a smart girl, but she takes after me when it comes to algebra. Hopefully, she’s less hopeless than me.”
“Dad,” a voice calls out sharply from behind us. “Stop being embarrassing!”
I jump with a start. Even if he literally just mentioned it, I still managed to completely forget that I’m not here to see him. Nodding at Mr. Harlow, I rush after Olivia as she turns and disappears down the hallway.
“Sorry about that,” she mutters as I follow her through an open door. “He’s been trying to make me feel better about being stupid.”
Olivia’s room feels more like its own apartment. It’s huge, and she has the space for a pale pink couch and cream armchairs surrounding a glass coffee table. Through another door, I can see a big, canopied bed decorated with a mountain of frilly pillows and a satin bedspread.
She stomps over to a desk in the corner, which has a huge computer monitor flashing different pictures of her and her friends on it. Off to the side, a laptop and an iPad sit among a number of pretty notebooks and fancy gel pens. Nearby, her closet door hangs open, showing off a spacious walk-in closet filled with clothes and shoes.
I’ve only ever dreamed of having a space like this to myself. My room is nowhere near this size, and I’ve had the same rundown furniture for as long as I can remember. A twin bed with worn sheets, a dresser handed down from my dad, a cheap desk I had to pinch pennies to afford. I don’t have a computer, and all of my notebooks and school supplies were bought with coupons.
“I’ll never get this,” Olivia sighs, pulling her school bag over the sitting area. She ignores the couch and instead plops on the floor before pulling out her textbook and notebook. “But if I don’t pass this time, I’m off the dance team.”
“If it helps, we’ll probably never use it in real life,” I say as I sit down beside her, hoping the joke helps ease the tension.
Olivia has always intimidated me. She’s got a larger than life personality and is friends with the coolest and most popular people. She’s pretty and carefree and always seemed to do fine in class, so that I’m here to tutor her is making me even more nervous. If someone as perfect as her is struggling with math, what does that mean for a someone like me? What am I failing at?
“I know, right?” Her genuine smile puts my heart at ease almost immediately. “Here, let me make some room for you.”
She pushes the coffee table back a little to make room for us to stretch our legs out. Just as she pushes her things aside on the table so that I can pull out mine, her phone’s screen lights up with a text.
Her background picture looks recent. Olivia and an older woman with the same shade of blonde hair and blue eyes smile at the camera, the Rockefeller Center ice rink in the background. Instantly, I know it’s her mom. It’s never occurred to me that Mr. Harlow might be married, which makes me feel foolish. My wishful thinking let me get carried away. Of course he’s married. My stomach sinks.
“Is that your mom?” I ask, just to make sure.
Olivia rolls her eyes with a huff. “On her annual visit to her first child, yeah. She lives in Los Angeles now with her new family—theupgrade.”
“Upgrade? Fromthis?” I ask incredulously. Why would anyone need to upgrade from this? Mr. Harlow is perfect. This apartment is perfect. What more could anyone possibly want?
My heart gives a sad pang for Olivia as I watch multiple emotions cross her face.
“Her new husband is a movie exec,” she explains. “Caroline craves the spotlight and now she gets to go to red carpet events and host parties at a huge house that celebrities show up to. App developers and tech execs are too boring for her. What about your mom?”
This is a lot for a Saturday morning, but she’s sharing things about herself with me, so the least I can do is do the same. “She died when I was five.”
“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry.” Olivia’s pretty face flushes. “My mom’s absent, but she’s still here. I should be more grateful, huh?”
“I hardly remember her,” I shrug. It’s the truth, but that doesn’t make it ache any less. I decide to change the subject. “Anyway, algebra’s not so hard. We’ve got this.”
“I hope so,” she says.
I want to suggest that she study more, but I don’t think that’s the problem. The academic requirements for extracurriculars at our school are really high, so even one class can affect your eligibility. As we get to work, it quickly becomes clear that she just doesn’t have a math brain. That’s okay, not everyone does, but her frustration gets worse and worse as she keeps getting practice equations wrong. After an hour, tears are starting to gather in her eyes.
