Page 13 of Tutoring Mr. Hotshot

I grunt at the nickname, dipping my head to hide the blush that forms. She doesn’t need to know how much I enjoy the name or how I’m curious to explore the same things Raymond and his friends get up to.

Sadly, I’ve not been brave enough to open up that box of interest. I know once I do, I won’t be able to push down the urges. And without someone to test my ideas with, it’s pointless. I’ve never heard of someone regressing on their own.

Not that I’ve done a tone of research about it yet. Avoidance and all that.

“We’re going to have the best time tonight. I just know it,” she tells me, her voice far too giddy.

I doubt ‘best’ is the proper word here.

* * *

The regret is immediate when we arrive at the party.

Yaz swore jeans and a plain t-shirt were fine to wear. What she didn’t say was how little everyone else would be wearing.

Most of the guys are shirtless or walking around in just their boxers. The women are a strong wind away from completely nude. I won’t say it’s all of them, but it’s a strong majority. I feel like a nun walking past them.

When we get to the kitchen, the customary place where all the drinks are kept, Yaz grabs me a soda and a beer for herself. I raise my brow to say ‘thanks’ and also ‘how’d you know’ all at once.

“You don’t need to let your guard down. I know you wouldn’t want to be caught up in anything. Plus, I need the liquid courage. I’m only having the one though, just in case you need me to kick someone’s ass.”

Spluttering at her words, I direct us out of the way of others and into the main room of the packed house. It’s a living space that’s been cleared to make a part dance floor, part make out area. I ignore the writhing bodies while scanning for a girl that might be Yaz’s type.

I asked if she could just pull the girl’s social media pages up to show me, but they were locked up tight. Something about her having a dad who was strict on cyber security and all that. How my friend knew that much but didn’t have a photo was odd.

“Where is she? Let’s work our magic,” I shout whisper to Yaz.

She laughs, then shakes her head. “No sign of her yet. We can relax a bit until I spot her. Maybe even dance?”

“Absolutely not. I’m not smooth enough for that. Aries got all the good genes in that department.”

It’s a lie, though she doesn’t need to know that. Ma made sure we both had rhythm as kids. She refused to let us embarrass her, or ourselves, for not being able to keep up with a beat.

I’ve never put the skill to use. At least, not around others. In the privacy of my locked bedroom, I can salsa and slow dance with the best of the best.

As we hang back, I keep my eyes open for any possible hostiles while Yaz looks for the girl she likes. I spot a few athletes in the mix, though none who would come after me on their own. There’s a mob mentality to those guys. If they can’t bully me in front of their pack of friends, then they see no point in even acknowledging my existence.

Fucked up, right?

Yaz gasps and grabs my arm. “Holy shit! I didn’t think he would be so hot.”

I pry her fingers loose as I laugh. “We’re here for a girl, Yaz. Don’t be greedy and get a guy too. I thought monogamy was your thing.”

“It is, but damn, I’d still take him for a ride if the option came up.”

Turning to see who she’s talking about has me stopping short. The guy from in front of the library, aka the guy I’ve thought about nonstop since then, is standing at the door surrounded by the rest of the hockey team.

“Kill me now,” I groan as I push further back into the wall.

I want to disappear.

I need to teleport to anywhere but here.

Sensing my panic, Yaz steps closer, her arm linking through mine. “You have every right to be here. Don’t let those assholes get to you.”

Her words would have been comforting if my sole concern was being bullied.

The bigger issue was the guy I’d been crushing on bearing witness to said taunts. I know I said I’d be fine with it. I figured it would be an eventuality I couldn’t ignore.

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