Page 10 of All Your Pucking Secrets

“Oh, yes.” Her voice is breathy, with a thread of surprise. “You must be here for Tyler.”

“I’m his tutor,” I say, bouncing the textbook meaningfully. I don’t want anyone thinking I’m here for anything else. That’s how rumors get started, and rumors draw attention. All I want is to get through this year unnoticed so I can focus on college.

“Of course.” Her frown makes it clear that it hadn’t crossed her mind I might be here for any other reason. I’m tempted to be offended, but instead, I decide to be an adult and chalk it up to the fact that Tyler isn’t allowed to have serious girlfriends—a well-known fact he takes advantage of to sleep around without commitment.

Mrs. Kinsey steps aside. “Please come in.”

She lowers her eyes, and I study her surreptitiously. She has angular cheekbones and hollow cheeks that suggest she hasn’t eaten enough for a while. I suppose she’s pretty, in a fragile kind of way, but her sunken eyes and defensive posture speak volumes about the type of man her husband is.

I follow her inside, through a foyer with a high ceiling and polished wood floors. My worn-out runners slap against the wood, and I cringe. I probably should have taken them off.

Mrs. Kinsey stops in the doorway of what looks to be some kind of living room, decorated in shades of brown and gray. It doesn’t look like it would be to her taste. She seems more the type to prefer pastels.

“Take a seat,” she says. “I’ll get Tyler.”

“Thank you.”

I remove my shoes before stepping onto the carpet, which is lush and soft beneath my toes. I carry my textbook to the corner sofa and sit, nerves stewing in my gut.

I don’t want to be here.

In fact, I’d prefer to me almost anywhere else. Especially since Eric is bound to find out I’m tutoring Tyler and he’ll somehow use it against me. Ever since he decided he wants to sleep with me, he’s been alternately pursuing me so doggedly it makes me uncomfortable and then tossing insults when I turn him down.

But Mr. Kinsey offered me too much money to refuse the tutoring job. When you’ve scraped for every cent like Mom and I have and know how it feels for hunger to gnaw at your insides because you haven’t eaten, it’s difficult to turn down lucrative offers.

Even if I’m certain I’ll end up regretting my choice.

There are footsteps on the stairs and then Tyler appears in the doorway, his handsome face twisted in a scowl. He looks about as pleased to see me as I am to see him.

“You’re here already?” he asks.

I glance at my phone. “Your Dad said to be here at two. Was that wrong?”

“No.” He doesn’t elaborate, but he does slowly make his way over to me and lowers himself onto a cushion far enough away that I can’t help wondering if he thinks being poor and nerdy is contagious. I stiffen, not used to being even this close to him.

“So, you’ve been given the chance to redo your biology essay on animal reactions to external stimuli and how they regulate their environments,” I say to distract myself. “Have you been assigned a particular animal for the do-over?”

The way he stares at me makes me uncomfortable, so I drop my gaze to my hands.

“Mice,” he says gruffly.

“Okay, great. We can definitely work with that. So, what you need to do is find a particular stimulus that interferes with, or forms part of, a mouse’s natural patterns, then explain their reaction.”

He snorts. “We can’t do anything if you won’t even look me in the eye. I’m not that terrifying, am I?”

With difficulty, I raise my eyes and meet his gaze. “I’m not scared of you.”

He cocks his head. “Then why are you so fidgety? You’re like a cornered cat with its fur puffed up.”

My nostrils flare. “First, that’s an insulting comparison, and second, I get enough of being pushed around at school. I don’t need it on the weekends too.”

One of his eyebrows arches in a way that’s absolutely infuriating.

“You get pushed around?” he asks, his tone slow and deliberate. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Every part of me wants to fold in on myself but I keep my back straight. Somehow.

He watches me, his pale eyes unreadable. “By who?”

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