Page 1 of Tutor With Benefits

ONE

ZACH

To put it bluntly, I’m fucked.

Just how fucked remains to be seen.

And it doesn’t take long for me to find out.

The bell rings and I grab my backpack from the floor under my desk, then proceed to shove my chemistry textbook along with my binder into the gaping mouth already questionably full of other shit I’ve been carrying around all day.

The past forty-five minutes have been pure torture. Not only because they’ve dragged by a hundred times slower than any other class, or even because I have the perfect view of Lindsey’s side boob every time she bends forward to write something in her own notebook and can’t do shit about it.

No. They’ve been torture because the professor might as well have been speaking a foreign language for the past hour, and I have absolutely no more understanding of what is going on right now than I did before class.

“Fuck you! You shmuck! Pick that up!” Taylor’s voice says behind me.

The hum of conversation is already filling the room as students pack up and leave, but I know who he’s talking to.

“Just wanted to see you bend over, sweet cheeks,” Cory replies.

“Only because you can’t get enough of seeing a good ass,” Taylor shoots back.

“If it wasn’t attached to you, I might say it wasn’t bad, but wait, I’ve never taken the time to look,” Cory retorts.

Taylor and Cory are both in the row behind me, and they’re already starting in on each other as they gather their things and put them in their bags. I’m sure they’ve already forgotten even caring about the class, and I’m sure they have no more understanding of what’s going on in the next chapter of the book than I do.

Oh well.

We’ll get out of here and head over to the cafeteria, and once again my life will be all about women, sex, and most importantly of all, hockey. I can say fuck this class and fuck caring about how molecules do their thing. Not seeing how chemistry matters to me or what I’m doing with my life anyway. I’m here for hockey, and I have every intention of going pro after college.

The bottom line in my mind is I don’t give a shit.

Until the crucial moment when I do.

“Mr. Cummings, will you please stay behind to speak with me for a moment before you head to lunch?” Professor Hudson calls out.

“Dude, you’re in trouble,” Cory says on his way past me.

“Mr. Carter, I would like you to stay as well,” Ms. Hudson adds. “And I’m sure you know I’m including you in this, too, Mr. Smith.”

Taylor groans, though it’s not a surprise to either Cory or me that he’s included in whatever it is we’re about to be chewed out over. He’s the third in our trio, and where one of us goes, the other two follow.

It seems that includes failing Chemistry 101.

The other students file out of the classroom, but the three of us drop into three of the front row desks. Professor Hudson is leaning against her desk at the front of the room, and I don’t shy away from fantasizing about what it would be like to bend her over that desk and take her from behind.

“Gentlemen,” she says, “I’m sure you have all checked your scores from your last test?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

We agree at varying audible levels.

“And I’m sure you’re not surprised to learn that your last two assignments in addition to that test have all come back with a failing grade. F’s across the board,” she says.

“What?” Taylor asks with his tone exaggeratedly surprised. He gives me and Cory a look, and we have to stifle laughter.

“Gentlemen, I know you think this is all one big joke, but I will remind you that the University of Minnesota is built on two pillars—education as well as performance. If you aren’t succeeding in both, then you aren’t succeeding in either,” she says.

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