Page 22 of Overtime
Not to be dramatic, but I think I may die of embarrassment if I see him. But I have to. Because I’m his tutor.
Unless… What if I convince him to ask for a replacement? Melinda may be more willing to swap me if the request comes from him. And yeah, maybe it will make my rating tank, but I’m desperate.
“Crap,” I mutter to myself as I hide behind one of the bookshelves. For Aran Rodriguez is already waiting in the same spot as yesterday.
This time the table is fully empty, though. Which is even worse.
He already has his laptop on. It’s one of those big models that must weigh a ton but looks small against his hands as he types on it. Several textbooks are open all around him and there are some wrappers balled up next to them, like maybe he’s been parked here studying for a while. Maybe he won’t notice that I’m late. Maybe he won’t notice if I don’t show up at all.
No, I’m responsible. And brave. And strong. I can face him.
I almost make a U-turn when he lifts his eyes for a second and locks them with mine. But he focuses back on whatever he’s doing, and the relief alone is enough to propel me forward until I sit across the table from him.
“Hi.” Regretfully, my voice comes out like a squeak.
The only acknowledgment I get is another brief glance.
I busy myself removing my coat and hanging it from the back of my chair. I take off my mittens and scarf, a matching marigold set I knitted last year. Then I sit back down, but I don’t take any of my stuff out of my bag. Hopefully I won’t need them because he’ll agree to requesting a different tutor.
Manifesting, I tell myself as I breathe in deep. We can do this.
“Give me a moment while I finish,” he mumbles, more to himself than to me.
“Give me a moment,please,” I blurt out, correcting him again.
A corner of his lips curves up slightly. “Sure, take your time.”
“Ugh.”
My hopes start deflating. He seems to fully enjoy antagonizing me for sport.
The half smile stays locked in place, even as he continues working. He pauses to circle something in his textbook with his mechanical pencil, then he’s back to fiddling with his computer. I stretch myself up to glance at the textbook. It’s a love festival of numbers. Just looking at it makes me dizzy.
What was it Lori said yesterday? That he’s studying accounting? That didn’t feature in his player profile, but it must be true.
So, Aran Rodriguez is a smarty pants, and not just because of the crap he says all the time.
He snaps the textbook shut and slides it away before tearing his eyes away from his screen. Showtime, I guess.
“Hi,” I say with more strength.
“You said that already.”
“Ha ha. Yeah, so…” I trail off. “Can we talk for a moment before the session?”
“I’m all yours.”
How can he say something like that so nonchalantly?
I clear my throat. Unlike Meg, who is a master of spoken language and can talk circles around the heads of a jury, I tend to wither when I have to express myself aloud. It’s why I always gravitated to the written form as a kid. I can only express myself properly if I have the time to think about each word. Which is why I had to prepare all my talking points in advance, and why I couldn’t concentrate during class at all.
Here goes the first one. “So, I noticed in your profile that you specifically requested a male tutor, which I’m not?—”
“I noticed.”
“And I was wondering if you’d still prefer to be tutored by a guy?” I cross my fingers under the table.Please say yes.
“I don’t care anymore.” Aran shrugs those big shoulders of his, making the fabric of his sweatshirt stretch from his neck.
