Page 4 of Tutoring the Bad Boy
Until this moment, I’ve done my best to keep my eyes off of her too. Now, face to face with her, I find myself wondering how I ever managed to do it. She is gorgeous with her long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, the end lying over the front of her shoulder. A headband holds back flyaway hair, most likely so she isn’t pushing them out of her face as we study. She must have played volleyball all summer because she has skin so sun-kissed it glows.
Only, there’s no hope with her, and since I know this, I lower my gaze a fraction as I make my way to the table she’s already claimed. “Hey,” I say as I reach her.
“You’relate.” She emphasizes the last word.
I shrug. “I’m here now.”
Her lips pinch together. “You can’t be late. I have two hours scheduled for this. I can’t be late getting home.”
Lifting my gaze to hers, I narrow my eyes. “Why? Afraid your mommy will find out your tutoring the resident bad boy, Kaleb Quinn?”
She squares her shoulders and looks down her nose at me. “Actually, yes, I am. I agreed to do this before I knew who I was tutoring. You’ll do things my way, or—”
Stepping closer to her, my nose is millimeters away. “Or you’ll what, princess? Tell on me? Believe me, I’ve dealt with worse.”
“No,” she squeaks and swallows a little too loudly. “I won’t tutor you anymore.” Her lips twist into a snarl. “You need me, remember? You’re the one who needs help. Not me. You play by my rules, or your butt will be saying goodbye to that architectural engineering school. You got it, tough guy?”
Dang, she’s feisty. A lot more than I remember. I mean, I’ve heard she was a force on the court, but from what little I’ve allowed myself to listen to up to this point, she was low-key and sweet. Two attributes she’s currently not exhibiting. In fact, she’s downright…intimidating. We’ll go with that instead of scary.
I take a step back, but I keep my thoughts from showing on my face. “Fine, Ms. Gray. We’ll do it your way.”
The satisfied smile on her face gives me a rush. She likes to think she’s won. “Good. Now, sit down and tell me where you’re struggling.”
What she doesn’t know is that I like to win too. Only, people don’t know that I’m trying to win because all they see is a kid from a broken home with a bad attitude and a dad willing to practically sell his soul to keep law school achievable. They don’t see me coming. No one ever does.
Ginny is no different than everyone else. The smug smile on her face is proof of that.
“Fine, but I have rules too.” I slide my book bag onto the floor next to the leg of my chair.
Her eyebrows knit together. “Like what kind of rules?”
“Shhh!” A woman sorting books hisses at us.
I take my seat and wait for Ginny to follow. For a second, she stands next to her chair just staring at me. I can see the wheels in her mind turning a million miles a minute. What rules could I possibly have?
It’s a mystery to me too. Mostly, I just wanted to see her squirm.
Finally, she slips into the seat next to mine. “What rules?” she whispers.
“Mrs. Yates told me I have to do this or she’ll fail me.” Lie. I asked, but if I’m going to be difficult, that strikes me as a believable reason.
“We’re only a month in. How can she threaten that?”
Oh man. “Really?” Surely Ms. Perfect can fill in the details. I’m a troubled kid. Who wouldn’t want to fail me? I give everyone grief, right?
“That’s not fair.”
I blink. “What?”
She turns to me slightly. “It’s not fair. Just because you get into trouble doesn’t mean a teacher can do that.”
Does she feel sorry for me? I hate that. Everyone always feels sorry for me. I hate it. It doesn’t take another blink before I’m back to furious. I need a tutor, but not her. “Look, don’t go feeling sorry for me. I make my own choices. I do my own things. I don’t need anyone feeling sorry for me. Especially a princess like you. I’m done. I’ll find a different tutor.”
Standing, I shove the chair hard into the table, and it cracks, loud and long. We get another hiss from the lady still sorting books.
Ginny glances around, seeming bewildered that I’m ticked. “Kaleb—”
“Stuff it. Go home. This session is canceled. This whole thing is over. I’ll talk to Mrs. Yates myself. I’d rather fail than have your stuck-up butt tutoring me.”
