Page 172 of The Off-Limits Play

“Or class.”

“Oh.” I brush my hand through the air. “Yeah, I’m not too worried about that.”

“Not too worried?”

“Well, I mean?—”

“Class is really important, Wily. You can’t just skip it to meet with me or do whatever else you do.”

“I wasn’t saying—” I huff. “I go to class, okay? I just need a tutor who will help me understand it and then help with assignments and stuff. My last guy was great.”

“So why aren’t you still working with him?”

“His coursework is getting too intense, and he had to drop some stuff.” I sigh. “I’m fucking gutted to lose him, and I’m kinda desperate to find someone else, so… please? Can you help me?”

She lets out a little sigh, and I’m bracing myself for a big fat no. “Why don’t we have an initial meeting before classes go back? I’m returning to school in a couple days. Let’s meet then, and we can see if working together is a viable option.”

“Okay.” My eyebrows wrinkle. A viable option? Who the fuck is this chick?

“I’ve got your number now, so I’ll text you a time and place. When do you get back to Nolan U?”

“January 1.”

“Okay. I’ll be in touch. Bye.”

And then the line goes dead. I pull the phone away from my face and gaze down at the screen.

Shit. Why can’t this be as easy as last time?

I don’t know if I want to work with a chick who goes on about the importance of class and how I should never skip.

Dammit, why did Neil have to quit on me? He was fucking amazing, and now I’m screwed.

There’s a quick knock on my door before it flings open, Blake striding in with a smile.

“Hey, bro.” She skips over to me and takes a seat on the end of my king-size bed. “Whatcha doin’?”

“Oh, just…” I shrug, then sigh, glancing at my door. “Are the parentals around?”

“No one says parentals, and they’re currently watching a documentary on the history of golf, so you’re good. What’s up?”

Flopping back, I stare up at the ceiling.

“Holy shit, are you frowning? Bro, this must be bad.”

I snicker and shake my head.

“Come on, tell me what’s going on. It’s lil’ Bee you’re talking too. You can tell me anything.”

“Yeah, right.” I steal a glance at her, loving and hating that it’s true. I do tell her everything because we’re more than siblings. We’ve been friends since she was born. I was three and half when I met her in the hospital, and I was completely enamored. I’ve been her protector, her playmate, her secret keeper, and she’s always been mine too.

I adore her.

And she knows I struggle with school, so I let out a huff and admit, “My tutor bailed on me, and I’m struggling to find a new one.”

“Really?” Blake leans over to give me a surprised grin. “I thought people would be lined up around the block to tutor the great Wily Wilson.”

“Fuck off.” I gently nudge her.

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