Page 31 of Texting My Hot Tutor

I laugh humorlessly, causing a few people to turn, to look at me. I raise my phone, typing fast, the pounding of my heart fueling the words.

You lied to me, Elias. That’s what happened.

On some level, I know I’m not thinking clearly. I’m familiar with feeling swept along by emotion, being reactive, and not choosing how to behave.

It’s the way I’d get when Jess suddenly decided to show up on a Saturday morning, convincing me to ditch my quality time with Hudson because she wanted to go to the mall.

Don’t be lame, she’d say.Hanging out with your big brother? God. That’s so sad.

My phone vibrates again.I swear that is the truth. I’ll never lie to you, especially after what you shared. I know how difficult it must be to trust. I’d never disrespect that. You have my word.

My mental defenses rise, telling me not to be convinced, telling me to tear holes in his story so I don’t have to be that girl again…the one who can be persuaded of anything. The one whose mind is pathetically malleable.

It’s so hard to believe, though, I reply.You’re in your forties. You’re handsome, rich, and successful. You’ve got a body most twenty-year-olds could only dream of. And you’re telling me you’ve never been with a woman? Come on.

I can explain.I imagine his jaw getting tight, those pale blues aimed at the phone.If you’ll let me…

It’s not like I can stop you from sending texts, is it?

I wanted to call you.

I look around the bus. It’s not packed, but not empty either.I’m on the bus so I can’t speak on the phone.

Okay then, he replies.Then let me tell you, Della, I wasn’t lying. It’s the truth. I’m a virgin. If you want the whole story, I can give it to you. But it’ll mean explaining some stuff about my childhood. I rarely talk about it…scratch that. I never talk about it. But with you, I will.

Caution is important here. That’s one of the tactics Jess used, too, pretending I was special, that we had some kind of unique connection. But really, it was a way to fast-track the manipulation, to isolate me from people whoreallycared.

I’m willing to listen, I send.

I look out the window, watching the world pass by. As the bus comes to a stop at a red light, I see a mom and dad, the mom pushing a baby in a stroller.

They’re laughing, then the dad leans over the stroller, and the woman laughs some more.

I imagine Elias and me in their place, sharing laughter and feeling that, miraculously, we made it.

We got past the texting, awkwardness, and lies – or truths I couldn’t believe – and wemade it.

After several minutes, my phone vibrates.

Everything I’m going to tell you is true. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t share it with anybody at the school. I know you wouldn’t, but I need to say that.

I nod to myself.

I’d never do that. I know how painful it can be when people tell lies about me.

When I was five, my parents divorced. My mom won custody. For a few years, it was okay…or better than it became, at least. She was a drug addict, but she managed to hide it for a long time. She managed to function. But then it started to get really bad. She sought the only out she had available to her or that she thought she did. One of her ‘boyfriends’ suggested it. But he wasn’t her boyfriend. He was her pimp.

I stare at the message, knowing Elias wouldn’t make something like this up. My breath has slowed since I stormed out of the office, the foggy rage in my mind clearing a little.

But can Iknowhe wouldn’t make it up, honestly? How can I ever be sure?

Something deep within tightens at that, as if telling me I can be sure because he’s the man for me, my one and only. That’s how I know.

We had a small apartment, Elias goes on.The walls were thin. I heard lots of things, Della. Lots of horrible things I shouldn’t have heard as a kid. Then, one day, I saved up some cash and bought myself a portable CD player and some headphones. I know I’m showing my age here.

No,I reply.I mean…yeah, maybe a little. But it’s not a bad thing. I don’t think age even comes into it for us. If anything, I love how mature you are, how experienced you are. Does it matter that I’m twenty?

I realize I’ve used the L-word too late, but surely he won’t know the full significance of it.

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