Page 3 of Teaching Ms. Tingle

“Yes, I listen to it when I am working. I know it is a bit dark,” I say softly, reaching for my phone to turn it off.

Pushing the calendar at him, I point out the days I have scheduled. He never even looks at the calendar. I feel as if he is there to study me. To research if I will get in his way of playing football this season.

“Well, Ms. Tingle, why don’t we make the best of being stuck with each other?” He suggests, a slow grin overtaking his handsome face.

He gets no argument from me—not when I am suddenly looking forward to being stuck with him.

Chapter Two

Kane

Being King on Campus is nothing but trouble.

Everyone around me treats me as if I am some sort of celebrity. From the moment I stepped on campus, it has been this way. People watching me or clearing the way when I walk down the halls.

Most of the guys want me at their party. All the girls want to say they got in my jockstrap. It does not matter how I act out or how big of an asshole I am. I am still their favorite guy.

It might sound like a good old time, but the truth is, I hate it. I was thrilled to get a chance to go to college, to make something of myself. I just wanted a shot at something more than football.

It is a lot of pressure to win games, to be that guy. The one that sells tickets, that fills the stadium, that has the media talking about our football program. All of it was a means to an end. A chance to get a degree in kinesiology so I could have a life after football.

“How am I failing?” I wonder as I glance at my grades again.

I am no dumb jock. I want my degree more than I want some fake fame. I want to work with athletes. I want to be someone after college. I refused all the offers to skate through my time here just to focus on football—I put the work in to earn my degree.

“Not failing, per se,” Dean Vickers tells me, fixing his bow tie.

“What is it then? I am busting my ass in all my classes.”

“Of course, Kane. Youhavedone very well. However, you have not completed some of your core requirements. You cannot graduate without a semester of English. You also need another core science.”

Sighing, I nod because I knew I had some core classes I was avoiding. While my degree needs science and basic medical courses, I had finished most of them with ease. I might know all about how a body works, how to treat injuries, even how to change some bad behaviors, but I have dodged some important things.

Mostly seeing blood off the field makes me sick.

“Not to worry, son. I have a tutor lined up for English. I am working on one for science as well. We will do all we can to get you to the finish line, Kane.”

“Sir, I appreciate that, I do. But I do not need a tutor. Just tell me what classes I need to complete, I can handle it on my own.”

Dean Vickers steeples his hands together, peering at me over them. I get the sense he hates offering this help as much as I dislike having it offered. And yet he is not going to backdown. Clearing his throat, he puts on a dry smile, his thin lips pulled tight.

“Mr. Hilton, I am afraid I insist. Coach Weathers expects you to play this season. To play you must pass these courses. Your scholarship does depend on both. I am sure these tutors will offer the assistance you need.”

Sighing, I nod because I do not see a way out of it. I figured I could power through biology during the next semester. As for English, I knew what class I wanted to take, I just had not worked up the nerve to take it. Not because I was afraid of the course. No, I am afraid of the professor.

“Who will be the English tutor, Mr. Vickers?”

“Oh, Ms. Tingle. While she is our newest English professor, her rapport with her students is excellent. I let her know to make time for you.”

Suddenly I feel as if the room is closing in on me. He cannot be serious. First he hits me with this whole tutor bullshit out of nowhere, ignoring that I am top of the class in all my area of study courses. Now he delivers the worst possible news.

Ms. Tingle is the newest staff here atHollow Oaks—not just the newest English professor. Everyone I know who takes her class raves about her. About how much she loves what she does. How excited she gets about talking literature with them—in turn exciting them about it too.

This exciting new professor is the very one I am afraid of.

Kinsley Tingle is the single most alluring woman I have ever laid eyes on. I can still recall seeing her for the first time last spring semester. It was a beautiful day with warm sunshine, that sort of warmth that lets you know spring is finally here.

Kinsley was sitting at the main quad fountain, a beautiful marble tiered fountain I often loved to sit at. Its bubbling waters sounded soothing, and the carved cherubs always made me smile. There was something very warm about it. When I saw her sitting there, I thought she was another student.

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