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“I just needed to verify all of this before you committed to this. Once you agree, you are going to be committed through the end of the semester.”
“That is fine,” I say reassuringly. “Will the payment be compensatory to having several students?” Trying to be independent and not sponge off of my roommates, tutoring became a way for me to earn some money this year.
“Yes,” she says, pausing for a moment before adding, “the student’s father is willing to pay you a standard rate, plus more, per hour. If you manage to help get his grades up, the father is willing to give you a bonus as well at the end of the semester.”
“Wow, okay.” I cross my eyes at my lack of verbal articulation, questions racing through my mind all at once. “Do you have details on where and when I am meeting this person? Can you give me a name?” Something seems off about this, but the opportunity to make some extra money and only have one student to focus on is too good to be true.
“You won’t get his name until you meet him. Since classes start on Monday, everyone felt it best for you to meet on Saturday morning in the library. A study nook has been reserved just for the two of you for the entire semester. You can review his classes and get a feel for where he is and what subjects he needs the most help in.”
“That sounds great. Thank you very much.”
Something seems off about the reasoning behind the cloak-and-dagger style of transaction, making me slightly wary. The girl continues speaking, forcing me to pay attention to her, instead of focusing on my concerns.
“We will send you a confirmation email. After reading it, let us know if you have any questions. If we don’t hear anything otherwise, we will consider this as your acceptance.”
“Okay, thank you,” I say in response, unsure of what her issue is. The woman is being cagey. It’s difficult to tell if she doesn’t think I can help because of who the student is or if she doubts my abilities.
Without another word, she hangs up. Almost immediately, my email pings with an incoming message. She must have had it ready to go, just needing to press the send button. After a close review of the email, I respond, accepting the tutoring.
Downing the rest of my beer, I head back into the kitchen, grabbing two more. Flopping down on the couch to find something mind-numbing to watch is the perfect distraction from both phone calls. I make sure to set an alarm to ensure I arrive on time tomorrow morning.
CHAPTER THREE
Finding my assigned cubicle in the library and settling in, I wait for my student. Not knowing who to look for, my body is on alert, looking at every person who walks past. The only hint I received yesterday was that it’s a guy.
After an hour, with no one showing up, I start to pack up. Stepping away from the table, a pair of strong hands grab my arms. Automatically, my free hand swings to defend myself. Too many times, I have ended up cornered. Luckily, the beautiful specimen in front of me has quick reflexes, jumping out of the way.
Staring into a pair of the palest blue eyes that I have ever seen, my breath leaves me. His blond hair is cropped close to his head, with the top slightly longer, but not much. It resembles a military haircut. The dusting of blond hair along his strong jawline looks soft, and I resist the urge to reach out and touch it, fisting my hands instead.
Swallowing hard, I continue looking him over, unable to form words. His arms are perfectly defined muscles. The sleeves of his shirt are so tight if he flexes, they will split at the seams. His chest is broad and very well-defined as well, tapering downto a slim waist. My mind drifts, trying to imagine what he looks like naked. Does he have those perfect little indents on his hips?
A throat clearing has my cheeks flushing in embarrassment.
“Sorry,” I squeak out, mentally shaking my head, hoping drooling isn’t running down my chin.
“Are you Kassidy?” he asks, his voice washing over me like melted chocolate.
My head bobs up and down in affirmative, unable to form words. A smirk crosses his lips. It’s almost as if he expected me to be struck stupid by him. Stepping out of his hold, we stare at each other.
“I’m Brock,” he says, watching me like his name is supposed to mean something to me.
“Okay,” I manage to say, drawing the word out and giving a slight shrug of my shoulders.
“You are supposed to be my tutor,” he says in response.
It takes a few minutes for my brain to catch up. What? This guy? How in the hell am I supposed to be able to concentrate on anything but his beautiful body. It’s no wonder the girl on the phone was acting so strange.
“Oh, okay, sure.” I roll my eyes at myself and the great dialogue spewing from my mouth.
“Were you leaving?” he questions.
“Uhm, yeah, you were supposed to be here over an hour ago now.” I snark in response as if my reason for departing isn’t obvious.
“I was in the gym,” he says as if that excuses everything.
Setting my backpack down on the table with a thud, I cross my arms over my chest as I lean back against the edge of the table.
“That doesn’t excuse you being late. If you want my help, you will show up to our sessionsontime,” I stress the last two words, hoping he gets my point.
