by A. R. Perry
By the time lunch rolls around I’m ready for the day to be over. Last night I got through fifteen pages of the fifty we were assigned and wouldn’t you know, the teacher called on me three times. I knew one answer. Not my finest moment.
Jesse and Braden have fried my brain. I need to refocus because they will not get to me. This is the last year of this bullshit and I’ll never have to see them again.
I stop by the cafeteria, planning on grabbing lunch and dashing out to the quad. The line is crazy, which sucks because it will leave little to no time to catch up on last night’s pages since we were assigned even more plus a book report. Yippy.
I try my best to keep my attention away from the side of the room the cause of my distraction is on, but my eyes have a mind of their own.
First thing I notice is that Michelle is back and in prime condition. She’s sitting right next to Braden squished in between him and Jesse, talking and laughing as if nothing happened. Either she’s an excellent actress, or they got back together. Perhaps social media meltdowns work after all.
Good for her.
As I’m reaching into my bag to snag my earbuds, I catch Michelle’s hand glide up Jesse’s arm as she leans into his neck. Well okay then. I kind of have the urge to warn her about him, but she hangs with the popular crowd every day, so if she doesn’t realize he’s a giant tool who only wants to get into her pants, then the words of a nobody won’t sway her.
I shuffle forward as the line moves. My eyes flick to Braden. I don’t know why I care, but I’m curious how he’s taking the fact that he newly minted ex is hanging all over his best friend. He doesn’t seem to notice, instead, his eyes are glued to his phone.
Props to him. Then again, why should he care? He’s the one who dumped her.
I grab my lunch and dash out of the cafeteria, giving myself a mental high five for keeping my eyes to myself on the way. If I can just regain that level of control all the time, the rest of the year should be a breeze.
A sweet patch of real estate underneath the shade of a tree calls my name so I haul ass before it’s snagged.
Today’s delectable meal is pizza that looks more like a petrified artifact than something edible. But since I’m hungry, I load on pickles and dip it in the ranch I scored. Sounds totally gross, but somehow it gives the piece of cardboard the right amount of flavor. My mom told me it was her biggest craving when she was pregnant with me. Guess weird cravings can be passed down.
I pull out the dreaded book and get to work. It’s not as if I haven’t read books that I hated before. Most of what they force us to read isn’t in my preferred genre. Focus is key.
When the bell rings I’ve caught up and managed to get through most of tonight’s pages. See. Focus.
As I’m walking back toward my next class, my phone vibrates in my pocket. Zari’s name lights up the notification.
Zari: Library after school.
Zari: And don’t try to bail like u did at lunch.
Ugh. This better not have anything to do with the whole tutoring thing. Now I kind of wish I didn’t get a leg up on reading so I could use it as an excuse.
Unease fills my belly as I round the corner and my next class comes into view. I don’t want to see Braden let alone play nice after last night. If he tries to push this whole game again, I might be tempted to mess up his pretty face.
Having to walk so far from the quad makes me one of the last people to enter the class, making it difficult to slip in undetected. Not that I can go unnoticed when I sit right next to the boy, but having his eyes follow every move as I walk straight at him isn’t ideal.
When he smiles at me, my heart does a cartwheel almost knocking my breath away.
How can he be so attractive yet so evil?
Nope. Bad heart. Bad brain. Not attractive. Just evil.
I make sure I have my scowl in pace as I slide the stool away from him. Focusing so hard on the whiteboard I’m surprised I don’t burn a hole in it, I slip my textbook out and drop my backpack at my feet.
He’s watching at me. I can feel it like little pinpricks across my cheek, but my brain wins out this time and I stay strong. And thankfully Mr. Brown walks in a few moments later and saves me from myself because I swear any longer and I might have cracked.
“Turn to page eighty, folks.”
Somehow I sense a group project coming on and that usually means with your lab partner.
Mr. Brown writes the word genetics on the board before launching into the overall idea of what they are.
As he’s talking I can’t help wondering if being a dick is genetic? I mean, I’ve met Jesse’s parents, and they seemed nice, but maybe that was a front. Maybe their crap attitude was passed down to their son much like his eye and hair color.
“Okay.” Mr. Brown’s voice cuts into my thoughts. “I want you to spend the next fifteen minutes working with your partner. Write down every visual characteristic you think is genetic.”
I bite the inside of my cheek and flip to a clean page in my binder. I don’t need Braden for this, I can figure it out on my own.
“So…” Braden’s stool slides on the tile and I feel him move closer.
Stay strong.
Hair. Hair is definitely genetic.
I wonder who Braden got his thick touchable hair from?
Nope. I scrunch my eyes shut and breathe.
“I think we’re supposed to be doing this together.”
“It’s not that hard. Just write what you see in the mirror every day.”
Weight. That has to be genetic. My mom is rail thin so my loser of a father must have passed it down. Add that to the list of crap he caused.
“Stella.”
“What?” I snap, my eyes finding him because he caught me in a moment of weakness when my thoughts were on my dad.
Something inside me softens the moment my eyes lock on to his gorgeous irises. I’m not sure if it’s the look on his face or what, but I lower my defenses the slightest bit. I can get through a class with him. And damn it, I’ll most likely need his help.
“Eyes,” I blurt out. “They’re genetic. The color that is.”
He smiles and I swear I can see every tooth. Every straight white tooth all the way back to his molars. I would be lying if I said it was anything short of magnificent. Has to be the best smile I’ve ever seen.
“Teeth…” I blink hard and clear my throat. “Also genetic.”
He bites on his lower lip, trying and failing to suppress his amusement. Can’t blame him. For some reason my voice has taken on a weird breathy sound. Completely embarrassing and I suspect my traitorous heart is the cause.
“Let’s go back to eyes.” He jots it down on the paper without looking down. “Yours are hazel. Which parent did you get them from?”
Not Mom.
“You’re jumping ahead. Let’s just list things out. I’m sure that’s the next awesome step.”
“Sure.” He writes it down. “Hair color.” His gaze slides down the length of my side braid. “Yours is almost caramel. Is it natural?”
I clear my throat. Why does this feel super intimate? “Yes… How about skin color. Clearly genetic.”
He nods. “Height.”
“Weight.” The second that the word is out of my mouth, I regret it.
Oh hey, let me just draw attention to the fact that I look nothing like the girls he hangs out with. Not that it’s hard to miss.
But Braden doesn’t miss a beat. He marks it then taps his pen on the table. “Beauty marks and freckles.”
“Sure.”
I feel myself shutting down. It’s a stupid protective mechanism I’ve had since I was a kid. And sometimes it flicks on even when it’s not a dire situation. But maybe it’s because this really does feel way too intimate for someone I just met. It’s forcing my insecurities to rise to the surface.
“I think that’s good.” I turn to my notebook and jot down the things we’ve already mentioned. I’m sure I’ll need it later.
/> “No. What about like noses and ears? Things like that.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
Braden’s pen stops on the paper. “Hey. You okay?”
“Uh-huh.” I jot down his two ideas. Mr. Brown’s point is clear. Pretty much everything about us is genetic, passed down from both parents. Kind of a battle royal of whose genes are stronger.
Braden leans in close, his breath blowing a few strands of hair off the side of my face when he whispers, “Did I say some—”
“Okay, class, let’s see what we got.”
I’ve never been more thankful for an interruption.
Mr. Brown calls an open discussion for people to call out what they came up with. As the class shouts out answers, I fold in on myself, their voices becoming a background noise, a slight hum.
Braden is going to be hell for my grade. This class is hard enough for me as is. I don’t think I can cope an entire year. We’re only two days in, there’s a possibility I’ll be able to switch my schedule, take on another elective in its place. My mom will be pissed, but she’ll be worse off if I get a big fat F on my record.
And that right there is the omen I’ve been waiting for. Braden is a dark cloud hovering around me. He looks beautiful, but from afar. Up close, much like being stuck in a storm, I’ll end up regretting being caught in it.
He needs to be exorcised so that I can focus on my future.
Zari’s waiting for me outside the library. Much like me, she has a lighter workload allowing us a little more than half the day. Something we’re lucky enough to have because of all the work we put in during our early years.
Which is why I’m not too thrilled when she brings up tutoring. Why the hell would I want to stick around after class to help some jock who focused more on athletics than brains?
“No.” I drop my backpack at my feet. “I already told you I didn’t want to tutor. I’m an awful teacher.”
“Come on. Mrs. Rivera needs us. Not many people signed up this year, and the kids sent our way are in serious jeopardy of flunking. Are you going to sit there and tell me you don’t care?”
“Would I be a terrible person if I said I don’t?”
“Yes,” she says straight-faced.
She must have inherited her bleeding heart from her parents. Another genetic trait. Two magical unicorn people getting together and having a kid. It’s the only way to explain her.
“Twice a week,” she begs.
With a groan, I give in. “Fine. But if I end up bludgeoning myself with a science book because the person is too thick to get the difference between there, their, and they’re… I will come back as a ghost and haunt you.”
“Dramatic, but I will welcome your disgruntled ghost with open arms,” she laughs and slides off the railing. “Both of our students should be here in five. Let’s go grab a table.”
“Lead the way.” I pick up my backpack and follow her into the stuffy interior of the library. One cool day and they cranked the heat up.
A few students are set up at the puke-green tables, heads bent and focused on either books or laptops.
Zari and I find tables side by side toward the back of the room by the sprawling rows of books and I waste no time taking up as much space as possible on the off chance another kid tries to sit with us. I can’t risk a distraction.
“Any idea who we’re meeting?” I whisper.
“Nope. Mrs. Rivera said she needed to work out who fit best with the subjects they were lacking.” She hands me a white folded piece of paper with the word tutor on it.
I follow her lead and set it on the edge of the table facing the door. “A lot of effort went into this.”
“Well. It is people’s futures. I would hope she takes it seriously.”
The front doors open and a girl I recognize from last year’s rendition of Grease walks straight to Zari.
They fall into an easy conversation. Of course. Everything social is easy for Zari. I glance at my phone. The person meeting me should be here. Though I shouldn’t be surprised. Like I figured, it’s probably a jock and the jocks at our school care about two things. Sports and themselves.
When I’m seconds away from packing it up and calling it a day, the front door opens and a familiar face steps inside, gaze sweeping the area until his eyes rest on me.
You have got to be kidding me.
Braden settles in the chair in front of me and all I can do is stare. Two days into the year and I’ve had more interactions with him than three years combined.
“Well…this is embarrassing,” he mumbles.
“Are you stalking me?” His expression morphs into shock at my comment, and yes, okay it was rude, but it’s starting to seem as if he might be.
“Why would I be stalking you?”
Okay, wow, the disgust in his voice was a little over-the-top. As if the thought of me being on the receiving end of stalking was so appalling to him.
Or he is appalled to be called a stalker. Good job, Stella.
“You’re everywhere I am lately.” I try to backpedal, but judging from his face, the damage is done.
His eyebrows descend and he bends forward lowering his voice to a whisper, but it doesn’t hide the irritation. “I can’t help that you’re in my classes and that you work at the coffee place closest to my house. And I certainly can’t help the fact that I have dyslexia, which makes me suck at English.” His cheeks are splotched with red as he leans back into his chair and snatches the tutor sign off the edge of the table.
I get the same flushed sensation. Mostly from feeling like a jackass, but also because the anger in his tone has drawn Zari’s attention. Her eyebrows shoot up as her eyes tick between us. A look I know well. She’s deciding if she needs to intervene with her magical Zari powers of reasoning. I shrug, because this isn’t a conversation we can have telepathically.
“Forget it.” Braden gathers up his binder. “I’ll ask Mrs. Rivera for someone else. If there is anyone left.”
“Wait.” My hand shoots out and wraps around his wrist, stopping him from fleeing. “I’m sorry.”
He glances down to where we’re touching then back up to my face, but his mood remains sour.
“Really. I’m in a bad mood so I took it out on you. I’m good at English. Fantastic actually. I can get you on track.”
He takes his time mulling it over all the while I continue to hold on to him. My brain has been screaming to let him go, but the warmth from his exposed skin is sinking into me and doing funny things to my stomach. A strange blend of nausea spotted with tiny fireworks. It’s clouding my thought process, making me act out of character. And the whole touching thing is way out of character for me. I’m strictly hands-off the majority of the time.
When he finally sits, the motion breaks our contact. Relief floods through me but is washed away the moment his stunning eyes lock on to mine. They have a such sadness behind them, but when he blinks it’s gone.
“I can only do Tuesdays and Thursday. Work for you?”
“Fits my schedule.” I nod and reach for my notebook, searching for something normal to say to break the tension hovering around us. “Do you work after school too?”
“No.” Braden flips open his binder and I catch sight of his messy handwriting littering the page resembling an ink explosion. “So we have a report due next week, any classical literature of my choice that won’t be covered. You think you can help me pick something I can actually get through?”
“Sure.” I chew on my pen, my attention flicking between a topic for his project and how easily he moved on. Almost as if he didn’t want to discuss anything besides schoolwork with me.
Makes sense, I guess. I am his tutor. What else would he see me as?
With a shake of my head, I focus on the task at hand. I know nothing about dyslexia except that it makes reading difficult. Which also means writing a report might be tough. We brainstorm together and after about twenty minutes of back and forth we settle on Frankenstein. It’s a book I enjoyed and I f
igure it will be easier to help him write something up.
Braden leans back in the chair, balancing on two legs and looking satisfied. I’m still struggling with my whole assholery. I mean, who am I to accuse someone of being a creepy stalker?
“Anything else you need help with? Anything besides bio?” I amend. I’m in no position to be tutoring on that subject.
He shakes his head, lowering his voice to a whisper. “I’m solid in all my other classes. Just the whole reading an entire book…” He shrugs. “And Stella...if...could you keep this whole thing to yourself?”
My gaze shoots to the girl Zari is tutoring. She doesn’t seem like the type who would broadcast she’s in tutoring either. Braden’s secret should be safe.
“Of course.” I settle my hand on his without thinking. His gaze jerks down to where I’m touching him and I immediately pull back. “Anyway. I have a crap-ton of homework to do so I should get going.” I jump up and scramble to gather my things that somehow spread all over the table during our session.
Zari’s eyes find mine and I give her a subtle thumbs-up. She’ll feel like a hero for strong-arming me into helping and hopefully won’t bring up Braden’s outburst.
“Oh. You gotta go now?” Braden almost sounds disappointed. It’s the only reason I allow myself to look at him.
Damn, he’s hot. A perfect fantasy man merged with a supermodel. So not fair.
“Yeah…straight A’s don’t come naturally.” I force a smile as he nods.
“Want a ride home?”
I snort because the idea of me in his car is absurd. Joking material for the popular kids. Braden doesn’t appear to have heard me though, or maybe he’s ignoring it. He stands up and shoves his binder into his bag with a lot less care than I do.
“Figured the bus takes forever. Between waiting for it and all the stops. We would have time to grab something to eat.”
My stomach drops and it’s not at all from hunger, but from fear. “Together?”
“Yes.” He draws out the word and I can’t even imagine what he’s thinking about me right now. No doubt I sound like a crazy person what with accusing him of stalking me, then my utter inability to pick up on social cues.