Page 5 of The Dating Coach
"You're right," I said, the words tasting strange in my mouth. "That was unfair. I'm sorry."
He blinked, clearly not expecting an apology. "Oh. Okay. Thanks."
We stood there awkwardly for a moment, the bustling tutoring center continuing around us while we existed in our own weird bubble of tension.
"For what it's worth," I said finally, "my experience with Mr. Brennan, my high school chemistry teacher, kind of messed me up about accepting help."
"I'm sorry about your teacher. That's fucked up."
The simple acknowledgment, without pressing for details or trying to minimize it, loosened something in my chest. "Yeah, it was."
He ran a hand through his still-damp hair. “Look, I get that you don’t trust me. That's fair. But I really am good at organic chemistry, and I have time in my schedule. No strings, no expectations, just one athlete helping another."
I wanted to say no. Every self-protective instinct screamed at me to walk away, find a boring, safe tutor who wouldn't make my pulse race or my palms sweat. But I thought about that F, about six weeks ticking down, about Mia texting me from youth group with barely concealed panic.
"Fine," I heard myself say. "But if you try anything—"
"You'll knee me in the balls like Naomi did to Brad," he finished. "Got it. How about we start next week? Two o'clock next Friday at the hockey house?"
"I have practice until three."
"Three-thirty then. I'll bring my transcripts since you're apparently the kind of person who needs documentation." He smiled, and it was different from his earlier grins – smaller, more genuine. "We'll get you through this, Spears. I promise."
I wanted to tell him not to make promises he couldn't keep, but something in his expression stopped me. Despite everything, I almost believed him.
"Three-thirty," I agreed, then turned and walked away before I could change my mind.
"Hey, Gemma?" he called after me.
I paused but didn't turn around. "What?"
"For what it's worth, I think your cheekbones are pretty good too."
I fled before he could see my smile, my face burning in a way that had nothing to do with embarrassment. Behind me, I heard his quiet laughter, warm and genuinely amused rather than mocking.
Walking back to my apartment, I tried to process what had just happened. Liam Delacroix – hockey star, campus celebrity, owner of shoulders that should require a warning label – was going to tutor me in organic chemistry. Worse, he'd made me smile. Worst of all, I was already looking forward to next week in a way that had nothing to do with molecular structures.
My phone buzzed. Mia:Survived youth group. They made us watch a video about 'choosing' to be straight. I chose to imagine the pastor's toupee catching fire instead. Small victories?
I typed back:The smallest victories still count. Love you, butterfly.
Her response was immediate:Love you too, Gem. Don't know what I'd do without you.
I tucked my phone away, squaring my shoulders. I didn't have time for distractions, no matter how blue their eyes or howunexpected their literary preferences. I had a test to pass, a sister to protect, and a future to salvage.
Liam Delacroix and his stupid perfect cheekbones would just have to be a means to an end. Nothing more. Even if my still-racing pulse suggested otherwise.
Chapter 4: Liam
I couldn't focus worth a damn during Saturday's practice. Every drill felt off, my passes connecting a half-second too late, my shots going wide by inches. The ice that usually felt like home seemed foreign under my skates, and I could feel Coach Jack's eyes boring into me from the bench.
"Delacroix!" he barked after I completely whiffed on a one-timer. "What the hell is wrong with you today? You're playing like a freshman who's never seen ice before!"
"Sorry, Coach," I called back, but my mind was already drifting to yesterday's encounter at the tutoring center. Gemma Spears, with her sharp tongue and defensive walls, had gotten under my skin in a way I hadn't expected. The way she'd looked at me – suspicious and dismissive, like I was exactly what everyone assumed I was – bothered me more than it should have.
"Head out of your ass, Cap!" Jesse called as he swooped past. "We've got BC again next week!"
I forced myself to focus, managing to get through the rest of practice without completely embarrassing myself. But in the locker room afterward, Henry cornered me while I was changing.
