Page 7 of Private Tutoring
It wasn’t sexual. No one had triggered that part of me since I lost Abigail. No. It was something else. A protective instinct that appeared in the most absurd situations. She didn’t need my protection. What good would it do, anyway? I’d done my best to protect my wife. She died anyway.
“Stephen.” Matthew snapped his fingers in front of my face.
I reared back with a glare. “You know I hate that.”
“Yeah, and I’ve said your name twice. You got lost, man. Didn’t know how else to pull you back.” He wore an apologetic half smile. “What do you say?”
“I’m in.” Roberto shrugged when I shifted to stare at him. “What? Doesn’t matter to me one way or the other, so why not help her?”
One point for Roberto.
“Do you need an incentive?” Matthew straightened. “I’ll trade you for it. I’ll do all the cooking and cleaning for you.”
“Hey.” Roberto protested, shoving Matthew’s shoulder. “What about me?”
“What about you?”
“None of us cook or clean for each other.” I looked pointedly at the immaculate kitchen and living room. “I’m not falling in that trap. We all clean up after ourselves like adults.”
“Fine.” Matthew huffed. His fingers drummed on the counter. “Can I appeal to your ego some more? You really are a great tutor. I’m sure it won’t take much to help her. She’s bright and talented.”
“Stop trying to sell it.” I held up a hand.
The lingering effects of the nightmare I’d suffered last night caused a headache to pulse. I rubbed at my temples. What did it matter to me whether she passed or not? I didn’t like it when students failed my class. It made me feel like a failure. But how did I offer free tutoring sessions to Harmony without offering them to every struggling student?
Wasn’t that some kind of ethical dilemma?
I could offer group tutoring sessions with anyone who wanted to join. Most of my students were passing this semester. Some might accept the chance to raise their grades.
“This really means a lot to you?” I asked Matthew.
He rounded the counter and grabbed my shoulders. “More than you know. If you heard her sing, you’d understand. She cannot be thrown out of college and lose her place in the program.”
I sighed, knowing deep in my heart that it was a mistake, I answered with a nod. “Fine. I’ll tutor her.”
4
HARMONY
Ihated Tuesdays. From the back of the class, I focused on the board where Professor Harding wrote out the answer to yet another math problem I didn’t understand. I copied his precise numbers and letters in my notebook, sighing in relief when he dismissed the class.
“Don’t forget about the test on Friday. All of today’s material will be on it.” He gave the warning with a solid look in my direction.
Great. Of course, he knew I was failing. He was the one writing my grades down after every test and quiz. I shoved my books and notebook into my messenger bag and stood.
Delilah sighed beside me. “Am I crazy, or is he even hotter today?”
I looked away before she could see me blush.
“Miss Vogel, a word, please.” Professor Harding stood at the front of the room, his brown blazer and striped tie giving him a distinguished air. Or maybe it was the silver in his hair. He was only forty, but the color had begun to fade, which I thought gave him a devilish appearance that matched the steel color of his eyes.
As long as I didn’t look too deep into those eyes, I’d be okay. I tried to look away, tried to watch where I placed my feet so I didn’t trip and fall down the steps in front of everyone.
But it was too late. I’d locked eyes, and he pulled me in with his very own force of gravity. My mouth dried to ashes, and I found speaking impossible.
Delilah tried to hiss something in my ear, but her words refused to register.
The class emptied, most people too concerned with getting outside to bother sticking around to hear why the professor wanted to talk to me. Except Delilah. She lingered at the door until Professor Harding sent a look her way that caused her to yelp and duck into the hallway.
