Page 10 of Private Tutoring
Mom always said I’d grown up too fast, without a childhood. Hard to be a kid living in our situation.
5
ROBERTO
The day after Matthew brought up Harmony’s issues with her grades, I took advantage of our next class together to keep a closer eye on her. She sat in the middle row of the lecture hall, her eyes locked onto her computer and her blonde hair trailing over her shoulder. She scooped it out of the way every few minutes, but as soon as she leaned forward to check her computer, it fell back across.
My voice rose and fell as I repeated the lines from the book I’d been reading to them every day. It was part of my curriculum to read a well-known story in my own language. Every eye in the room—except Harmony’s—followed me as I walked across the low platform.
I’d been given one of the largest lecture halls on campus, and over three-quarters of the seats were filled every semester.
I pitched my voice low and dark as I read the villain’s line in the book, reciting it from memory.
Harmony’s brows drew together, and she mouthed the next line, her lips forming each syllable. It was hard to tell from here, but it looked like she’d spoken it perfectly.
Curiosity pinched and prodded as I wrapped up the class. Several of the students packed up right away and rushed to their next class. Harmony and a few others lingered, taking their time. Harmony cast a look around, her pale face showing anxiety. She walked slowly down the steps, her eyes on her feet.
I put the book away and flipped my lesson planner to the next class. My third-year students demanded the majority of my attention, but I still loved the first-years. Seeing the discovery of language come over them was the reason I’d gone into teaching.
“Professor Rossi?” Harmony gripped the strap of her bag, her hands twisting. She raised her head, met my gaze for a split second, then looked away. Pink stained her cheeks a delicate rose.
No wonder Matthew liked her. She had the fresh-faced look of youth, and a shyness that he’d find appealing. Too bad she was half our age and our student.
“What can I do for you, Harmony?” My accent caressed her name the way a lover might in the middle of the night.
Her blush deepened. I’d seen it before, but it struck me differently when Harmony swallowed hard and whispered, “I need help with your class.” It came out strangled, like her tongue didn’t want to cooperate with her.
I ignored the way it caused my instincts to kick in. My job was to teach Italian and prepare these students the best I could for their chosen careers. Not many actually needed my class for the linguistic ability. They needed the foreign language credit. If Harmony decided to go into opera, learning a different language would benefit her, especially Italian.
“I’m aware.” I tried to say it casually, but her lips tightened. The urge to reach out and run a comforting hand across her arm drove me to clench my hand into a fist and shove it into my pocket. “Matthew spoke to me. He’s rather adamant that we finda way to get your grades up.” I realized how my words might be taken and held up my free hand. “I’m willing to tutor you.”
Her breath rushed out so fast her entire body sagged forward. “Really?” She raised her head.
There were times when I suspected girls used shyness as a front to gain attention.
Not with Harmony.
“Can you meet after your classes today?” I held out my hands and turned. “We can work here.”
“Um. Sure.” She offered at tentative smile. “Thanks, Professor Rossi.”
“You’re welcome.” I ushered her from the room before I said something stupid, like offering to let her call me Roberto.
No way, no how. Off-limits. I put a mental warning sign across her name and pasted on a smile that comforted most people.
If Harmony saw it, she ignored it, rushing away with the bag slapping her hip.
Hours later, with the final class over with and my mouth dry from talking so much, Harmony strolled into my classroom. She wore the same clothes, jeans, T-shirt, sneakers, with her hair loose around her face.
It took a minute to understand why that comforted me. She hadn’t put in any effort to make herself look better for our private session. I couldn’t think of a single other time when I’d worked one-on-one with a student that they didn’t try to seduce me.
It was why I’d stopped offering any kind of tutoring sessions. But Matthew was my friend, and he never asked for anything.
“Where should I sit?” She had the bag tucked tight across her stomach, almost like a shield.
I sat behind my desk and indicated the chair across from me. “Right there.”
Once she was settled with the bag at her feet and her hands in her lap, I opened the textbook and flipped it around. “Let’s do a quick proficiency check. What does this say?” I pointed at a specific line of text from one of my favorite novels.
