“I DON’T NEED A BABYSITTER.”
“She’s not a babysitter,” Professor Ehrlich said patiently. “She’s a tutor. One of our best, in fact. She’s worked with multiple students with dyslexia
— ”
“I don’t need a tutor either.” The thought of some know-it-all condescending to me every week made me want to crawl out of my skin. I’d made it this far on my own, hadn’t I?
I didn’t have any tutors growing up and my teachers had been mediocre at best, destructive at worst. Yet here I was, sitting in a top economist’s office at the prestigious Thayer University, less than a year away from receiving my double economics and business degree. I could practically taste the money and freedom already.
Professor Ehrlich sighed. He was used to my stubbornness, but something in his tone had my gut tightening with unease.
“You do need one,” he said, his voice gentle. “English literature and composition is a core requirement. You already failed it once, and it’s only offered in the fall. If you fail it again this semester, you won’t graduate.”
My pulse spiked, but I kept my expression neutral. “I won’t fail. I’ve learned from my mistakes.”
I didn’t understand why I had to take English in the first place. I was going into finance, not goddamn publishing. I was acing my economics classes, and that was what really mattered.
“Perhaps, but I’d rather not risk it.” Professor Ehrlich sighed again. “You have a brilliant mind, Dominic. I’ve never met anyone with such a natural gift for numbers, and I’ve been teaching for decades. But talent will only get you so far. A Thayer degree opens doors, but to get it, you need to play by the rules. You want to make it big on Wall Street? You have to graduate first, and you can’t do that if you insist on choosing your pride over your future.”
My knuckles turned white around the armrests.
Maybe it was the fear of losing when I was so close to the finish line, or maybe it was because Professor Ehrlich was the only teacher who’d ever given a damn about me.
Whatever it was, it forced me to swallow my knee-jerk distaste over his suggestion and relent, at least partly, through gritted teeth.
“Fine. I’ll meet with her once,” I said. “But if I don’t like her, I’m not meeting with her again.”
 |
The following Monday, I showed up at Thayer’s main library, ready to get the meeting over with. It was nearly empty this early in the semester, so it shouldn’t take long to find my tutor among the stacks.
Professor Ehrlich had given us each other’s contact information, and she’d left me a voicemail that morning confirming our appointment.
I’ll be on the second floor wearing a yellow dress. See you soon.
She didn’t sound as chirpy as I’d feared. In fact, her voice was oddly soothing. Rich and creamy, with a gentle calm that wouldn’t be out of place in a yoga studio or a therapist’s office.
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 fully kicked 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 of those types. 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.”
“Night?”
“Work.”
Her brows rose. “So you work, tutor, then go back to work?”
“Two different jobs,” I said stiffly. “Cafe in the morning, Frankie’s at night.” I’d stacked all my classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays so I could work the other days. Between the coffee shop, diner, tutoring, and occasional lawn-mowing gig on the weekend, I earned just enough to sort of fit in at Thayer.
I didn’t actually care about ingratiating myself with my classmates, most of whom came from wealthy prep school backgrounds I could never relate to, but the biggest benefit of attending a school like Thayer was the networking. In order for people to take me seriously, I needed to look the part, and looking the part was damn expensive.
Alessandra’s face softened. She was the type of student who belonged without trying. She didn’t mention what her parents did, but I could tell just by looking at her that she came from money.
“What time do you get off work?” she asked. “We can meet then. Based on our schedules, Mondays are the— ”
“I don’t get off work until eleven.” I challenged her with a cool stare. “I’m guessing that’s too late for you.” I left out the part about how I usually studied after work. I didn’t know why, but I focused better when I was tired. I liked Alessandra more than I thought I would, but I wasn’t convinced about this whole tutoring thing. The last thing I needed was her to bail on me in the middle of the semester because I wasn’t progressing fast enough
for her.
“Good thing I’m a night owl,” she said, meeting my stare with a serene one of her own. “See you next Monday.”
|
I didn’t believe for a second Alessandra would give up her Monday night— or any night—to tutor me. She probably had a date or party to attend, which was just fine. If we couldn’t make a time work, then we couldn’t make a time work. Despite Professor Ehrlich’s reservations, I was confident I could pass English on my own. I had to. Not graduating was not an alternative.
I wiped down a table at Frankie’s, trying to ignore an unwanted pang of jealousy at the thought of Alessandra on a date. I had no claim on her, nor did I want any. I’d hooked up with a few girls at Thayer but never bothered dating any. I was busy enough without dealing with the drama of romantic entanglements.
“Whoa.” Lincoln let out a low whistle from the booth where he was scarfing down a burger and fries instead of closing up shop. He was the owner’s nephew and one of the laziest fucking human beings I’d ever encountered. “Who is that?”
I glanced up, already annoyed that someone was walking in five minutes before closing time, but for the second time in a week, my annoyance died a quick death.
Brown hair. Blue eyes. An armful of books and a half-teasing, half- challenging smile as she took in my shock.
Alessandra. Here. In Frankie’s. At eleven fucking o’clock on a Monday night.
What the hell was she doing here?
“We’re closed,” I said, even though we weren’t supposed to turn away customers until the absolute last minute and it wasn’t my place to turn them away in the first place.
Lincoln stopped drooling long enough to glare at me. “Dude,” he hissed. “What are you doing?”
“I’m not here for the food,” Alessandra said calmly. “We have a tutoring session, remember? I’m here to give you a ride.” She sat at a counter stool. “Don’t mind me. I’ll wait until you’re done.”
“That’s your tutor? Damn, I should’ve stayed in school.” Lincoln resumed ogling her in a way that made me want to rip his eyes out of their sockets.
“I’m tired.” I stepped in front of him, blocking his view. It was either that or earn myself an arrest for assaulting my boss’s nephew. “We’ll schedule our session for another day.”
“Perfect,” she said, ignoring Lincoln’s indignant protest. “You focus better when you’re tired, right?”
How—Professor Ehrlich. I was going to kill him.
I could tell by the look on Alessandra’s face that she wasn’t going to budge, so I didn’t argue further. I’d learned how to pick my battles a long time ago.
Eventually, Lincoln tired of leering at her—either that, or he was put off by my death stare—and left me to close up shop.
“Don’t you have other things to do?” I asked when Alessandra and I finally settled into a booth. “It’s almost midnight.”
“Like I said, I’m a night owl.” She gave me a mischievous smile. “And I heard the milkshakes here are really good.”
I snorted, reining in the small laugh that’d almost escaped. “What happened to not being here for the food?”
“Technically true, but I’ll never turn down a shake if someone offers me one.”
“Right.” She had to have an ulterior motive for showing up. People didn’t go above and beyond like this out of the goodness of their hearts.
Alessandra must’ve picked up on my lingering suspicion because her teasing expression sobered.
“Look, I know you don’t trust me yet, and I don’t blame you, but I want to make one thing clear,” she said. “I’m your tutor, not your mother or a drill sergeant. I promise I will do my very best to help you pass English, but this is a partnership. You need to work with me, and if you really don’t want to—if you feel like I’m wasting your time and you would rather never see me again—then you need to say so now. I don’t give up on my students, but
I’m also not going to force them to do something they don’t want to do. So tell me. Are you in or are you out?”
Surprise flitted through me, followed by begrudging respect and something infinitely more uncomfortable. It formed a knot in my throat and blocked my knee-jerk defensive response.
No one had ever called me out quite so calmly and effectively before.
No one had cared enough.
“In,” I finally said with no small amount of reluctance.
Maybe this was an act and she’d walk away after her initial enthusiasm waned. She wouldn’t be the first one. But something in my gut told me she’d stay, and that scared me more than anything else.
Alessandra’s shoulders relaxed. “Good.” Her smile returned, a warm beam of sunshine beneath the fluorescent glare of the overhead lights. “Then let’s get started, shall we?”
Over the next two hours, I understood why Professor Ehrlich sang her praises so highly. She was a damn good tutor. She was patient, encouraging, and empathetic without being condescending. She also came more prepared than a Girl Scout with a bag full of highlighters for color coding, L-shaped cards to frame sections of the textbook and help focus my attention, and a recorder so I could replay our audio lesson at my leisure.
The most damning thing was, it worked. At least, it worked better than my usual methods of gritting my teeth and persevering through brute determination.
The only downside was how distracting Alessandra herself was. If she talked for too long, I got lost in her voice instead of her words, and every time she moved, a faint whiff of her perfume drifted across the table, clouding my thoughts.
Christ. I was a grown man, not a hormonal teenager with a crush. Get it together.
I reached for the blue highlighter at the same time she did. Our fingers brushed, and an electric current jolted up my arm.
I yanked my hand away like I’d been burned. Pink colored Alessandra’s cheeks as tension coated the expanse of our booth.
“It’s getting late. We should head out.” My voice sounded cold to my own ears even as my heart slammed against my ribcage with alarming force. “I have class tomorrow morning.”
“Right.” Alessandra gathered her materials back into her bag, her face still glowing with a hint of color. “Me too.”
Neither of us spoke during the drive back to campus, but my brain couldn’t stop replaying what happened in the diner.
The softness of her skin. The hitch in her breath. The tiny, almost imperceptible stutter of my heart during the millisecond our hands grazed, followed by the unexpected shock to my system.
I blamed it on sheer exhaustion. I’d never reacted so viscerally to such a small touch, but the body did strange things under duress. That was the only explanation.
Alessandra pulled up in front of my dorm. We stared up at the imposing brick building, and another awkward beat passed before I broke the silence. “Thank you.” The sentiment came out stiffer than intended. I wasn’t used to thanking people; they rarely did anything that warranted genuine appreciation. “For the ride and for coming out to Frankie’s. You didn’t have
to do that.”
“You’re welcome.” Alessandra’s earlier mischief returned. “It was worth it for the vinyl booths and fluorescent lights alone. I hear they’re really flattering for my skin.”
“They are.” I wasn’t joking. She might be the only person on the planet who could still look like a supermodel in a shitty, poorly lit diner.
A smile curved her mouth. “Same time next week?”
I hesitated. This was it. My absolute last chance to walk away before she did.
You want to make it big on Wall Street? You can’t do that if you insist on choosing your pride over your future.
I don’t give up on my students, but I’m also not going to force them to do something they don’t want to do. So tell me. Are you in or are you out?
I blew out a breath. Fuck.
“Sure,” I said, ignoring my twinge of anticipation at the thought of seeing her again. I hope I don’t regret this. “Same time next week.”
