Page 7 of Still Here Without You

Conversation over, Delilah sits back again before absentmindedly flipping the pages of her textbook. She looks lost in thought, but I’m not sure why.

“So I have to ask—”

“Is there a reason—”

“You go first,” I say after we both speak at the same time. Delilah looks unsure but takes a deep breath and faces me to continue her question. “I realize this is very forward, but is there a reason you want to work with kids and teens specifically?”

“As in, did I have a rough childhood?” No one has actually asked me that before, although most people know me.

“Not necessarily you,” she answers hesitantly. “Maybe someone you know.” Her face scrunches as her shoulders rise.

“Um for me…notexactly. I’m actually one of the lucky ones. But I had a friend who went through some stuff when he was young. I don’t even know the full extent of it, but it messed him up a bit. I found that I wanted to help him through. I wanted him to talk to me about it, even though he didn’t really want to share. I was desperate to do anything I could to help him. And because he didn’t want to talk—and let’s face it, as a twelve-year-old, I didn’t really have the tools or knowledge to know how to help—I used the power of distraction instead. It seemed to work, but to this day, he’s still pretty torn up over it.”

“Wow, thank you for the honesty. I shouldn’t have asked such a personal question, but I appreciate your answer.”

“You’ll find that I’m not just an ass, I’m an open and honest ass.” I bounce my eyebrows with a grin.

Delilah laughs, her giggle lightening the mood. “What were you going to ask me?”

“Oh, mine’s tutoring related.”

Her face drops. “Right, sorry. I got a little off topic.” She blushes slightly but straightens her body and recovers. “Okay, open and honest ass, let’s get back to it.”

“Yes, ma’am!” I say, saluting her, and then do as she says. “I was going to ask…why not write this subject off as tried and failed, and just choose another general education subject next semester?”

“Is that what you’d do? Write it off? Give up?”

“I’ve never had to think about it. Never been a problem.”

She scoffs. “It’s never been a problem for me either, but I’m no quitter.”

I’m about to suggest she reconsider when she cuts me off. “I just need to have good grades this summer. It’s important to me.”

“Good enough reason for me. Off topic again, but what’s your major? Or, as you put it…what areyougoing to be when you grow up?”

Delilah laughs before raising her pen back up to her mouth. “I’m going into fashion design.”

I’m not really paying full attention to her answer as I’m too distracted by her lips, so it takes a second to register. My eyes dart up to look at hers as my mouth pulls into a smirk. “A cheerleader interested in fashion. Wow! Did not see that coming.”

Delilah’s mouth opens in shock before she recovers. I really need to remember that not everyone understands my humor. “Anyone ever told you you’re a jerk?”

“Often. In fact, my best friend tells me daily. But I was actually kidding.”

“I want to meet this best friend. Sounds amazing. We’d definitely get along.”

Okay, maybe she’s fine with my humor. She gives it out just as well, and in this case, I can’t help but laugh at her remark. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”

“Joel! You in here?”Fuck! Apparently thatishappening. Dylan creaks open the door and pokes his head in as I inwardly curse myself for telling him which room I’d reserved.

“Dylan. What are you doing here? I’m in the middle of an important tutoring session.”

“Fuck, I know,” he says, running his hand through his thick hair, an apologetic expression on his face. “Sorry, but I’ve been calling, and you’re ignoring me.” He then turns to Delilah with a smile. “And you must be Delilah?”

Her eyes widen, and I can see recognition in them.Don’t tell me she’s a football cheerleader. Or worse, a jersey chaser.

“What’s so important that you desperately need to reach me?” I ask, ignoring his questionandmy thoughts.

He rolls his eyes at me before turning back to Del. “Now that I think about it, I recognize you from the squad. I’m Dylan, the unfortunate soul that lives with this guy.” He points my way without looking. And there's my answer; she’s a football cheerleader. “Was there really no one else available to help you?” he continues, thinking he’s funny.

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