Page 7 of Practicing With My Tutor

When I walk into the lecture hall, his head is ducked and his attention is focused on a stack of essays in front of him. His body is tense, like there’s something heavy weighing on his mind. I do my best to swallow the fear that it’s me that’s causing him to look like that.

I’m even more distracted now that I’m in the same room as Blaine. I don’t hear a single word the professor says, and my notebook is spread out in front of me more for show than anything else. The impending conversation I’m about to initiate takes up all of my brain power.

I don’t have any idea of what to say. How do you even start a conversation like this without sounding desperate and needy? Do I demand answers? Do I try to approach him with tact? Is being tactful something I’m capable of?

I don’t get the chance to find out. When class wraps up, I waste no time in packing my things into my backpack, but by the time I get everything put away, Blaine is already heading out the door.

That doesn’t seem like a good sign.

There’s a lump in my throat as I make my way home. From what I can tell, he is just using me for sex. He made a quick escape to avoid talking to me about what happened last night. That much is clear.

The heaviness from our lack of interaction is still weighing on my shoulders by the time I get to work. In fact, I’m so out of sorts that Nicole clocks it as soon as I walk into the restaurant. She forces me to tell her everything, and I’m not lucky enough to have a busy night to escape her incessant questioning. At her insistence, I send him a text asking if he has time for another “lesson” tonight, and to my surprise, he tells me to come over as soon as I get off work.

Even though he’s clearly not done with me, the invitation does nothing to quell the unease in my stomach. He might just think that I want a repeat of last night. I consider texting him that I just want to talk, but Nicole doesn’t think that’s a good idea. She says I don’t want to give him time to come up with excuses. It’s best if I spring the question on him and get his answer in the moment.

When the end of the night rolls around, I breeze through my side work. While I’m not exactly eager to have this conversation, I can’t have Blaine thinking I’m standing him up again. It’s best if I just head over there and get this over with.

I’m the only person on the bus the entire ride to Blaine’s apartment. Normally, I’d be grateful for the silence and privacy, but right now, I’m missing the constant stopping. No other passengers means no chance of stretching this ride out a little longer.

Before I know it, I’m standing on his doorstep, staring at the mat on the ground. I can’t seem to make myself knock no matter how hard I try. Finally, I settle on sending him a text to let him know I’m outside.

“Hey,” he says when the door swings open. “Sorry I didn’t hear you knock.”

“It’s okay,” I say, not bothering to correct him.

“Well, come in,” he says, stepping back to allow me entry. Once I’m inside and the door is closed, he says, “Sorry for sending you away like that yesterday.”

I hum, crossing my arms over my chest as if to protect myself. Blaine catches the motion and his eyes roam over my form, taking in my body language. Confusion falls over his face before it’s quickly replaced by concern.

“What’s going on?” he asks, reaching out and touching my elbow. I wish the gesture didn’t feel so comforting, that his touch didn’t send warmth flooding through my being.

“It’s just…” I start, my nerves overwhelming me. Blaine squeezes my arm, anchoring me to the current moment. Before I speak again, I take a deep, steadying breath. “I need to ask you something, and I need you to promise me you’ll tell the truth.”

Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t that. Surprise is written all over his features, but his voice is sincere when he says, “I’ll tell you the truth. You have my word. Now, what’s bothering you?”

I look at the floor, gathering all the strength I can before turning my gaze to Blaine. His worried expression threatens to slice me open and kill the words before they even have a chance to get out. So I speak quickly.

Chapter 5

Blaine

“Are you just using me?” Julie blurts, her face going pink as she speaks. The words knock into my chest like a linebacker sacking a quarterback.

I was relieved when she asked to stop by earlier tonight. It meant that I hadn't damaged things beyond repair. At least, that’s what I thought before right now. Who knows what kind of narrative she has in her head? Or if she’ll accept my explanation?

I must stay silent for too long, because Julie starts talking again, this time with a put-on sort of confidence. “If that’s all you want, fine. I just don’t think I want that. I won’t tell the school about what happened, and I’m sorry if–”

“I don’t just want you for sex,” I say, cutting her off before she can get too worked up. “I know I acted like an asshole yesterday, but I have an explanation if you’re willing to hear me out.”

Julie hesitates, but after a long second, she nods her head.

“Thank you,” I say, letting out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Let’s sit down. I’ll make us coffee.”

“That sounds nice,” she says, giving me a brave smile.

I lead her to the table, and once she gets settled in, I pop a pod into my coffee machine. Neither of us speak as I prepare our mugs, adding cream and sugar to hers even though I don’t know how she prefers it. Hopefully, if this conversation goes well, I’ll have the opportunity to learn how she likes it one day.

“I hope that’s okay,” I say as I place her steaming cup on the table.

---