Page 11 of King of Greed

Still, I was predisposed to not like her. Professor Ehrlich aside, I didn’t have the best record with anyone in a teaching position.

My eyes landed on a flash of color near the window.

Yellow dress. Coffee and a familiar blue English comp textbook. That had to be Alessandra.

She had her head bent over something on the table, and she didn’t look up even when I pulled out the chair opposite hers.Typical.I’d tried working with a handful of tutors in high school and quickly ditched them when it became clear they were more interested in checking their messages and texting.

I opened my mouth, but my irritation died in my throat when Alessandra finally lifted her head and our eyes met.

Her voice was made for radio, but her face was made for the goddamned silver screen. Full lips, high cheekbones, skin that glowed like liquid silk in the sunlight. Chestnut hair spilled in thick, silky waves over her tanned shoulders, and her blue-gray eyes sparkled with warmth as she stood and held out her hand.

Thayer was filled with beautiful girls, but there was beautiful, and there was her.

“You must be Dominic,” she said. Somehow, she sounded even better in person. “I’m Alessandra, but my friends call me Ále.”

I finally found my voice. “Hello, Alessandra.” I placed extra emphasis on her full name. We weren’t friends. We just met, and my reaction to her was purely physical. It didn’t mean anything.

“Nice to meet you.” If she was put off by my pointed use of her full name, she didn’t show it.

“Since this is our first meeting and the semester hasn’t fullykicked off yet, I didn’t prepare any study materials,” she said after we settled into our seats. “You’re heartbroken, I’m sure.”

“Inconsolable.”

Alessandra’s quick grin sent an equally quick frisson of warmth through my veins. I shifted, half wishing I’d never showed up and half wishing I’d never have to leave.

“I thought we’d discuss expectations and get to know each other a bit during today’s session,” she said. “Even though this is a formal tutoring partnership, it helps if we like each other.”

One ofthosetypes. I should’ve figured. “As long as you don’t ask me to braid your hair,” I said. “Neither of us would be happy.”

Her laugh almost brought a smile to my lips.

Almost.

“No hair braiding, I promise, but I can’t guarantee I won’t show up with cookies every now and then. They’re wonderfully unhealthy and, if things get down to the wire, they work quite well as bribes.” Another grin, another frisson of warmth. “Don’t ask me how I know.”

For the next hour, we discussed our schedules for the semester, Professor Ruth’s irrational love of juxtaposition, and random shit like our favorite music artists and colors. Alessandra also dug deep into my learning habits—what type of environment I preferred; whether I learned best through sound, visuals, or hands-on activities; even what time of day I usually got the most tired.

I’d never paid attention to half those things before and balked at answering, but for someone who resembled a grown-up Disney princess, she was like a damn pit bull with a bone.

I eventually relented and answered after some thought.

Learning environment: big table, natural light, some background noise as opposed to total silence.

Learning medium: visuals.

Time of day when I usually wanted to take a nap: early afternoon.

“Perfect. This was very helpful,” she said at the end of our hour. “I think we’ll get along just fine. Anyone who’s a fan of Garage Sushi is friend material.”

Our mutual interest in the local indie band had been a pleasant surprise, though I hardly considered it a solid basis for a friendship.

“Does the same time next week work for you?” she asked. “I don’t have class on Mondays, so I’m flexible.”

“No. My SAT tutoring gig starts next week.” Rich people spent ridiculous amounts of money to get their kids into the Ivy League, and the cash I raked in from my math lessons went a long way in covering my expenses.

“What about in the morning?”

“Work.”

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