Page 5 of Teaching Ms. Tingle

All I care about is teaching Ms. Tingle that I can be as right for her as I know she is for me.

Chapter Three

Kinsley

Promptness is not a talent of mine.

Rushing through the library, I glance again at my watch. Twenty minutes late to my first tutor session with Kane. It is a late Tuesday afternoon, golden sunlight warming the almost deserted library. I wish it were teeming with students. It might be safer for me in any case.

Being alone with Kane Hilton is a very bad idea.

Just those brief moments in my office threw me off balance. I couldn’t think of anything else after he left. So afraid I might run into him outside the safety of the staff building, I stayed well past midnight. Not that avoiding did a darn thing to help me avoid thoughts of him.

My thoughts about my new student are wildly improper.

It’s been almost a week since I was told I had no choice but to tutor him. And in the days since, I have had dozens of dirty daydreams about the sexy student. Ones I feel guilty for but still allow myself to indulge in.

“Ms. Tingle,” his deep voice calls, shaking my thoughts. “Late?”

Glancing his way, seated at the very last table in the very back of the library, I almost want to bolt. The last rays of sunshine pour in through the windows, his eyes a stunning copper in the dappled light. He seems huge in his seat, his long legs barely fitting beneath the wide oak table.

It is a cool fall day, but he is in a dark tank top, light jeans, and bright white sneakers. A hat sits on the table, but his shaggy hazelnut hued hair is loose. From the very first time I saw him, I had the impossible urge to touch the silky waves of his wild hair.

“Yes. Yes, my apologies,” I rush out as I stumble towards the table. Setting my bag atop it, I take a deep breath. I glance up at the huge wall clock, seeing I am almost twenty minutes late. “To be fair…it will be more common for me to be late than to be on time,” I admit with a sigh, wondering where the candid comment came from.

“No worries. I don’t mind waiting, Ms. Tingle,” he offers with a crooked half grin that makes me reach for a chair to sit in.

Clearing my throat, I offer a small smile in return. My hands shake as I pull out the binder I put together for these sessions with him. I spent all week creating four, one for each of the students I will tutor as well as one for me. It will allow us to stay on track for these six weeks of session.

Sliding his across the table, I pull my hand back too late. His big hand covers mine as he goes to grab it. A jolt of lightning shoots up my arm. I liken it to how a shock from defibrillator might feel. I even let out a little sound, the type you eek out when you get a static shock.

“Whoa,” Kane murmurs, his eyes flying to mine. I yank my hand back, shaking it out. I start to mumble an excuse about the carpet, only to flush when I realize all the floors here are marble.

“Here is your study syllabus. Everything we will work on will be covered here. Dean Vickers let me know you will begin my English Lit course when the semester starts this week. It was…alluded to that I ought to make sure you pass the course.”

“Ms. Tingle, I will do the work. I am not a dumb jock, I just…I messed around a while because I could, I guess. I avoided English because honestly, I am a little afraid of it.”

Blinking at him as I open the binder, I am surprised. He told me to look at his records. He was right when he said he has done his work. More than getting a passing grade to be able to keep playing football, he has stayed at the top of all his classes.

“Afraid of it? You allow very large men to chase you on the football field. How could some words scare someone like you?”

Kane sobers, sitting forward as he glances at the other tables. It is just the two of us here. His gaze locks on me for a moment. Biting his bottom lip, he lets out a little smile before he answers.

“Out on the football field, I know where I am going. Where to cut, what I need to accomplish. When it comes to an essay or even reading a book…I never know where it will go.”

“That is the best part of it though. Going along for the ride to see where it will end up. Not knowing the end before the journey begins.”

“Playing football means Icanbe in charge of where I end up.”

Smiling at him, I nod my head. I suppose he might be right. I never cared much about where the journey ends. Being on the journey was the whole point in my opinion. Feeling him watching me, I glance his way to find his light eyes focused intently on me.

“What is behind that look Mr. Hilton?”

“God, no,” he grunts with a sexy smirk, “never call me that again. Kane. No Hilton or “hey number eighty”. Wondering if I had it wrong.”

Kane watches me for a moment, his hands flexing on the table. I wonder what must go on in his head. Football is a complicated sport, though some write players off as big buffoons. Those plays they learn can be very complex. I consider this as an angle to assist with tutoring him.

“Guess that will be my next read,” he replies with a smile. His head tilts, his eyes sliding over me slowly. There is something predatory in his gaze. It makes no sense for him to look at me this way, but here we are. “Oh shit. I will be right back, Kinsley,” he mutters, glancing past me as I sit there stunned that he called me by my first name.

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