The Kissing Tutor

by Sally Henson

  I rolled my eyes and straightened. “Whatever.”

  “I’m serious.” She grabbed her calculator, notebook, and pencil from her locker before closing it. Turning back to Roan, she asked, “Did you talk to Max yet?”

  A long breath whistled through his nose. “Look, we have playoffs to focus on. You shouldn’t be thinking about stuff like this right now.” He shifted, removing his arm from my shoulder, and shoved a hand in his pocket.

  Cayla’s eyebrows popped high on her forehead. “You mean to tell me asking someone out, or making out, never enters your guy brain because you’re focused on playoffs?” Her voice was a little loud.

  Roan looked around at the hallway. A few people with quizzical expressions looked in our direction. He narrowed his eyes and took a step closer to Cayla. “Do y’all want to go to state?”

  Cayla nodded in the direction behind Roan and me and mumbled, “Doesn’t seem to bother some of your teammates.”

  I turned and saw James and one of his exes locking lips in a doorway as if it was shielding them from being seen. It took me a few seconds, maybe minutes, to look away. A groan slipped out of my mouth, and I tilted my head back to stare at the white ceiling. Why couldn’t I have looked that good kissing James Lowe?

  After a bit of awkward silence, Roan said, “That’s just James. Besides, we’ve got finals coming up.”

  “Ha,” I scoffed, leaning against the cool, green metal of the lockers. “I know for a fact that your grades were high enough to opt out of all your finals except one. So don’t feed me that line.”

  Roan tossed a hand in the air. “I don’t know what exactly you want me to do.” He stepped closer. “You want me to make an announcement at practice? How much are you paying for these services?”

  Cayla and I looked at each other. We didn’t think about paying anyone.

  The thought squeezed my heart. If my body crumpled any more, I would have been a blob on the floor “Am I so pathetic that I have to pay?”

  Cayla’s mouth dropped open. “Of course not.” Her gaze locked on to Roan. “Right, Roan?”

  He shrugged. “How am I supposed to know?”

  Seriously? He’s a guy. Shouldn’t he know these things? Unless he did know and said that to prepare me.

  Cayla’s lips pressed into a thin line.

  “Great,” I uttered. “Just…” Frustration wound inside me like a spring. I banged the back of my head against the lockers a few times. “Awesome.” The sting of tears forming hit me. I closed my eyes for a second before focusing on Roan’s Puma tennis shoes. He always wore name-brand stuff—always looked nice.

  I checked Cayla’s wardrobe; pink Converse, cute white shorts, and pink top.

  Me? School was about to begin, and I looked as if practice was about to start. My heart squeezed even tighter. Any hope this idea of Cayla and Madi’s would work was eroding.

  “You’re so thick!” Cayla growled at Roan. “Just put some feelers out there.”

  “Tommie, you don’t have to go along with this dumb idea,” Roan grumbled.

  Cayla sliced her hand through the air. “Forget about it, then. I’m sure we can do this without the help of the almighty Roan Martin.” Cayla could be a beast on the softball field, but this was aggressive for her off the field. It was not her normal shy manner. “Oh, look,” she sang. “There’s our first customer and number one on our list, Jerrick.”

  I lifted my gaze as Cayla smoothed down her shirt. “Come on, Tommie.” She linked arms with me and put us in motion.

  I glanced over my shoulder and said to Roan, “Maybe dumb ideas are all I have to work with.”

  6

  Summer and Mazzie walked in front of me to the softball diamond. Pitchers and catchers were always first on the field to warm up before the game. It was Mazzie’s day to start, and after realizing this morning I might have to pay someone to kiss me, I didn’t feel much like chatting and made sure to keep to myself on the way out.

  The crunch of cleats and the ear-piercing pitch of London Hauser’s shrill giggle shot past me from behind like an arrow. It wasn’t long before another grinding voice grated on me.

  Tommy Styles, baseball jerk extraordinaire and benchwarmer, not so casually called, “Oh, look, it’s the fake Tommy. Come on. Let’s go say hello.” He started calling me the fake Tommy because I’m a girl with a boy’s name. At least he acknowledged I was a girl. That was the only good thing about the guy.

  London giggled, causing me to flinch. “Hey, there, guppy girl.”

  Their footsteps gained on my position, picking up speed. They split on either side of me, both making kissing noises with their cheeks sucked in and their lips opening and closing like a goldfish.

  My stomach clenched as I slowed my pace and put more distance between us. It wasn’t the first time it had happened to me. Doubted it would be the last. But I still wanted to crawl in a hole every time.

  The faint ruckus of gear rattling together grew louder as it got closer. “Get me a drink before you start warming the bench, Styles,” Roan called from behind me. His heavy steps quickly approached until we were side by side. “Why do you let them do that?” He switched his bag full of catching gear to the other shoulder.

  My jaw clenched before I answered, “What do you want me to do? Beat them up? That would really help people forget about it, now wouldn’t it?”

  He let out a long breath.

  “This is why I need,” I glanced around us to make sure no one was within hearing distance, “a tutor. Someone to teach me how to be great at kissing and then want to kiss me in public. Even if I have to pay for it. It will turn everything around. And,” I held up my crossed fingers, “I could even get a boyfriend out of the deal.”

  “Who cares what people like Styles and London think? If Lowe hadn’t grabbed your butt, you wouldn’t have freaked out.”

  “It’s almost the whole school, Roan. It doesn’t matter why it looked like I was trying to eat his lips. A picture is worth more than a thousand words, or even the truth.”

  He shook his head and pushed out another long breath. “That’s why you should come to Tennessee.”

  “It’s probably too late for that.”

  The red and gold colors of the visiting Eagles’ jerseys were sprinkled throughout the outfield. The baseball field was past the softball diamond. Their field was nicer than ours, surrounded by trees, and it had a nice scoreboard and great lights.

  “Mazzie’s starting today?” he asked. It was her normal rotation, but she didn’t have more than three innings in her before her arm would need rest.

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  “If you get put in, remember it’s just pitch and catch. And picture London’s face in the catcher’s mitt.”

  We stepped onto the grass. London’s face would most definitely be transposed to that mitt. That image garnered half of a smile.

  Jerrick Locke rounded the snack shack and headed our direction. This morning, Cayla and I found the guts to say hi and ask if he was coming to our game today. That was all we had the nerve to do. He was six-foot, one inch. An inch taller than Roan. Since I was five-foot-ten, I noticed the height of boys I dreamed about dating.

  When Jerrick was on the baseball team, he pitched and caught. Word was he got kicked off the team last year because he got into it with the coach…more than once. Roan thought Jerrick pushed it too far, maybe even wanted Coach to kick him off. Jerrick had some family issues. He might still, but he was one good-looking bad boy.

  Jerrick lifted his chin in that guy greeting way and said, “Martin.” He held a giant pretzel in one hand and a soda in the other.

  “Locke,” Roan grumbled. He always grumbled. “What are you doing here?”

  Jerrick’s gaze moved to mine and then over my uniform. I wasn’t good at style, but it didn’t take a genius to see a softball uniform made me look more like a guy. “Thought I’d watch the mighty Lionesses in action. I hear Tommie is tough from the circle.”

  Heat spread f
rom my cheeks to my ears. I glanced down, not sure what to say.

  Roan shifted his weight, moving a bit closer to me. “She’s the best. But Mazzie’s on today.”

  I turned to Roan, giving him a scowl. What was he trying to do, get Jerrick to leave?

  “Heard they got three steals on you over the weekend. You need me to give you some pointers?” Jerrick grinned and took a bite of his pretzel.

  “I’m good,” Roan deadpanned.

  Jerrick smirked and sauntered toward the Lions’ softball stands. “You’ll be warming up, won’t you, Tommie?”

  I nodded. Why didn’t my words work around him?

  His eyes lingered on me for a few more steps.

  “I can’t believe it.” I watched Jerrick move like sexy molasses to the metal bleachers.

  “What?” Roan asked.

  “Cayla and I asked him to come to the game. Eek!” I bounced on my toes as a happy dance. “He’s here.”

  “Don’t,” Roan said as if he was giving me an order.

  “Don’t what?” I looked up at him with my eyebrows knit together. The smack of a fast-pitched softball hitting the glove drew my attention to the field.

  “Don’t go after Jerrick. Promise me,” he said.

  “I need to get over there and warm up before I get in trouble.” I took a step, but Roan latched onto the back of my jersey. I stopped and looked back over my shoulder at him.

  “Promise me,” he said.

  I tried to step away, but he wouldn’t let go. “Why? Then you won’t have to help me.”

  “I’m not letting you go until you promise.”

  I shrugged and said, “Only if you promise to help me find someone better.”

  He tugged the jersey, pulling me closer, and mumbled near my ear, “I promise I’ll think about it.”

  Warm-up pitches were happening, and I needed to get my butt over there or I’d be higher on Coach’s crap list. “Okay…I have to go.” He held on. I sighed and gave him the word he was waiting for. “Promise.” I didn’t need the coach to chew my butt in front of Jerrick for being late.

  He released my jersey, and I jogged off toward the dugout.

  He called, “Good luck on the game.”

  I spun around and jogged backward as I pointed my glove at him. “You too!”

  He headed for his field and I spun back around, jogging behind the bleachers to the dugout.

  Coach Mac was already there. “Nice of you to join us, Tommie.”

  Keeping my mouth shut was the best answer, so I hung up my bag and fished a ball out. As I stepped onto the dirt from the concrete, I glanced up at the stands and saw Jerrick kicking back. He had sunglasses on, so I couldn’t tell where he was looking exactly. When I turned to join Mazzie and Summer, Roan’s large form passed outside the outfield fence.

  Maybe Jerrick showing up was just the kick in the pants Roan needed.

  7

  “Hey, Juju girl. Are you going to study with me?” My cute little pug lifted her head from her comfy curled-up position on the floor at the end of my bed. She’d followed me upstairs after I got home from practice.

  I closed my door and dug in my drawer for a pair of comfy shorts and a Lions softball T-shirt. The much-needed shower had cooled me off from practice.

  After I dressed and hung my towel up, I scooped Juju in my arms and flopped on my bed. I turned on my side, flicking my damp hair out of my face, and stroked her back. “Practice was good for once, Juju Bead. Today’s the first time in a while I didn’t need to ice my shoulder. And the first time Coach didn’t chew me out after practice in what seems like a month.”

  After Roan pointed out what I was doing wrong yesterday, I was able to get back into my groove. Picturing London’s gossipy face in the catcher's mitt…bullseye every time. I wondered how his practice went.

  I snatched my phone off of my nightstand to send him a message. He’d sent me one while I was in the shower.

  Roan: You need help studying tonight?

  That was his way of rubbing my face in the fact he didn’t have homework and only had one test to study for this week. I let his comment slide.

  Tommie: How was practice?

  When we had our pitch and catch session, the only thing I saw off was his toes weren’t pointing out far enough when receiving the ball. He wanted me to take some video of the next game. Not sure if that would happen.

  Roan: Better. I’m in your kitchen.

  “Roan’s here, girl.” I scratched behind Juju’s ears. “You want to go see him?

  She talked to me in growly whines. Cayla thought it was weird, but what she didn’t understand was Juju totally got me.

  I lifted her off the bed and sat her on the light gray carpet. “Let’s go, girl. Maybe you could bite his ankle until he agrees to help me find a kissing tutor?”

  She barked once.

  I giggled and opened my door. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  When I asked him about it this morning, he said he was still thinking about it. All he had to do was drop subtle hints that he knew someone looking for a no-strings-attached make-out partner. How hard could it be?

  We followed the hall to the stairwell. Halfway down, the pungent aroma of asparagus cooking hit me. I liked the vegetable, but my sister hated it. Little Miss Perfect was probably holed up in her room, gagging.

  Served her right after her not-so-subtle hints that my wardrobe was part of my problem. She said, “Guys don’t go out with girls who dress like guys.” And then she proved her point by going through my closet and dresser.

  It wasn’t fair she got the best of everything from our family’s DNA. Brains, looks, athleticism, older boys interested in dating her. But ever since she was in junior high, she had talked down to me like I was stupid, and she was better than me. Just because I didn’t make straight A’s didn’t mean I was stupid.

  The thought of Mom making her eat a bite and Madi gagging as soon as it hit her tongue caused me to snicker. “This is turning out to be a good day.”

  After I hopped to the floor from the bottom step, I crossed through the construction zone of a living room. Mom had stripped the wall that stood between the kitchen and living room down to the studs. She had wiring that needed moved and a reinforcement beam installed. Even the floor was down to bare plywood.

  Her hobby was part of the reason she worked part-time at the hospital. That was on top of her regular job as a nurse at the Women’s Wellness Center. Which meant Mom worked a lot. I think she stayed so busy, so she didn’t miss Dad. At least that’s what Aunt Ginny told me last year when she came to visit.

  Roan’s grandpa’s laughter filled the air of the first floor. My smile widened. He had a great laugh. Hearty and full of life. Roan’s could be just as contagious when he let go.

  I peered through the two-by-fours and saw Roan cutting veggies at the chopping block. He knew his way around a kitchen.

  Our eyes met. His full lips curled into a smile, and he lifted a hand in a wave.

  Mom stirred something in a pot at the stove. The aroma told me it was mashed potatoes. She glanced my direction after Roan waved. “There she is,” she said. She always made sure to take Wednesdays and Sunday mornings off. Almost always.

  Roan rarely missed Wednesday nights except during baseball season. Sometimes he had games, or I had games.

  “Are we having a party? On a school night, even?” I teased, crossing the old threshold between the rooms.

  Jim turned toward me. “Tommie, my dear, we need a babysitter for a few days.”

  I giggled, locking on to Roan’s face as he shook his head and rolled his eyes. Yes, he totally rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah?” I asked and leaned my forearms against the countertop at the island across from Roan. “How much are you paying? You know what a pain in the butt this kid is.”

  Jim cleared his throat, drawing my attention back to him. He leaned over as if we had a private negotiation going on. “Fifty’s a fair price, don’t you think?” he asked in a serious ton
e.

  “If you’re talking fifty an hour,” I shot back.

  Jim broke out in a laugh. Roan kept his unfazed expression, chopping along. Now that I was closer, I determined he was making a salad.

  “All right, you two,” Marilyn cut in. “Roan doesn’t find you very amusing.”

  I rounded the island and chimed, “He always finds me amusing.” I pulled a salad bowl out of the cabinet and sat it next to the chopping board. “Right, Roan?”

  He grunted in response, so I poked at his ticklish spots until he danced around.

  “Hey,” he said. “I’m working with a knife here.”

  “I better check the grill.” Jim chuckled, lifting the platter and tongs off of the countertop, and headed for the back door. We kept our grill on the back deck right outside the kitchen.

  “Gramp’s brother is having surgery at the end of the week. He and Grandma are going out of town for a few days. He says I’m irresponsible and need a babysitter,” Roan said with a shake of his head.

  Marilyn stood across from us. Her thin frame and aristocratic stature seemed out of place with me, Roan, and, the construction zone in the room. She shook her head and said, “We just want to make sure you eat well and don’t throw a party while we’re gone.”

  “You know I can take care of myself,” he grumbled.

  “A home-cooked dinner every night would be nice, wouldn’t it?” Mom asked. She knew how much Roan loved good food. Or food period. But good food was a bonus.

  I reached my arm around his waist and laid my head against his beefy arm.

  He paused his pepper dicing. I saw his lips part with a bigger smile.

  “We can make a tent like old times,” I said with a hint of nostalgia. When we were kids, his grandparents sometimes went on weekend trips without Roan. He would stay with us. Usually in my room, and we rigged up a blanket tent to sleep in.