Page 9 of Tutor With Benefits

“Get over yourself,” she replies. “You’re in college and that’s a college diner. I’m sure the servers are used to it. And if any of the other students give a fuck over you being on the phone, just flip them off and tell them to get a life.”

“There are times I really do wish I had your balls,” I tell her, my voice still low. “Johnny’s here.”

“Oooo the plot thickens,” Anna teases me over the phone. “What’s he doing?”

“He’s at the diner, what do you think he’s doing?” I hiss. “He’s eating dinner like everyone else here!”

“No shit,” Anna replies. “I mean is he alone?”

“Is he ever?”

“You’re not helping.”

“Neither are you!”

“If there’s space at the table, sit with him,” Anna says.

“What? No!” I tell her. “I can’t do that!”

The student behind me clears his throat, and I realize I’m holding up the line.

“Sorry,” I mumble as I take a few steps forward.

I grab a tray from the stack on the counter along with the cup for the soda fountain and continue in the line, trying to focus on my conversation and getting my food, but my brain is refusing to let me forget the fact that Johnny is just a few feet away.

“Why not?” Anna asks. “What better way to get his attention than to walk right up to him and sit down?”

“He probably doesn’t even know my name,” I hiss.

“Then you’ve got a great way to break the ice,” she tells me, her tone cool, as though she’s the one about to do what she’s telling me to do. “Sit your pretty ass down next to him and just tell him your name, then go from there.”

“And do what? Ask him what his name is?” I reply, my tone incredulous. “As if I don’t know!”

“I’m just saying, if you want to have a chance with this guy, you can’t keep disappearing into the crowd every time you see him,” she tells me.

“I’ll find the courage to talk to him, I promise,” I lie.

“No you won’t,” Anna replies.

“There’s still time before school’s out. I’ve got this. I’m just shy, that’s all. It takes me a minute before I warm up to someone. You should know this, you’re my roommate!” I tell her.

I quickly order my chili cheeseburger and fries as I listen to what my roommate is telling me through the phone. The server looks annoyed at me as he scoops the food onto a paper plate and puts it on my tray, followed with a second plate of fries.

He slides the ticket down to the next kid behind the counter who’s taking the payments for the food, and the entire time I’m fumbling to get my money out of my pocket, Anna is telling me how I’m going to miss my chance with Johnny and forever live in regret that I had the opportunity of a lifetime staring me in the face day after day but never did shit to act on it.

“Are you listening?” she asks when I don’t answer.

“Yes, sorry,” I tell her. “I’m trying to keep my phone balanced on my shoulder while I’m getting my food. I’m almost done getting my soda now, then I can talk again.”

“Have you ever heard of this thing called speaker?” Anna asks.

“I’m in public,” I say.

“What’s the difference if you’re having a conversation with your friend who’s standing next to you versus being on the phone with someone who’s on speaker?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” I reply. I would shrug if I wasn’t holding my tray with one hand, balancing the now full cup of soda on the edge. “Just seems rude to me.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re too nice?” Anna asks.

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