by Blake, Remy
“No, not a million. Maybe about ten,” I joke, referring to how far King University is from their house. “There’s a girl I’m attracted to, but we’re not meant to be together.” I can’t believe I just said those words out loud.
“Here you go.” Gramps sets the bowl of pie and ice cream down in front of me.
“Hey. There’s a bite out of this.”
Gramps sniggers and sits at the end of the table. “Consider it the price of me getting it for you.”
“Get back to where you were telling me about the girl you like. I want to hear more about that,” Gram orders.
“She’s beautiful and kind. I like to watch her and I love to listen to her speak. She has the slightest hint of an accent and it’s sexy as hell.”
“What color hair does she have?” Gram asks.
“Black as pitch and shiny.”
“How’s her rack?” Gramps jumps in. Gram rolls her eyes and I laugh.
“Her rack is perfect. But it’s her ass that really grabs my attention.” Gramps laughs.
“What’s the problem, Connor? You like her and it sounds like she’s got many positive qualities. Ask her out.” Gram shrugs as though it’s that easy. I wish it were. I wish we didn’t have a deck stacked against us.
“It’s not that easy, Gram. She’s older than me and she doesn’t seem to want to start anything.” I leave the with a student part off. I can’t share that with them. I can’t share that with anyone.
Gramps takes hold of Gram’s hand. “If I gave up on your grandmother that easily, you wouldn’t be sitting here today. Some girls are worth pursuing. If you think she’s one of them, then you need to put the effort in and not give up so easily.”
8
Harper
Knuckles rap against the door with five minutes to spare. I’m glad to see he took my warning about being punctual very seriously.
After Connor left my office yesterday, I realized the people I was really mad at were Dean Billings and Connor’s father.
Their arrogance and sense of entitlement, when roping me into something that isn’t required, for their own personal gain, set me off. Coupled with my general distaste for Dean Billings, and it’s safe to say Connor caught the brunt of my emotions yesterday.
He didn’t seem too irritated by it, his on-time arrival proof of that.
I could see on his face that he wanted to apologize, or at the very least explain his circumstances, but I don’t need to think of Connor in a positive light. I’m already a mixed bag of emotions when it comes to him. And if there’s any way I can avoid him and any more confusion, then I will.
Straightening my clothes, I tug the door open and put on my professional smile. Being this close to Connor feels like a recipe for disaster, but seeing as I can’t get out of it, I’m going to need to up my game.
“Come on in.” I step back, opening the door as wide as I can to let him pass. “Have a seat.”
I gesture to the black futon against the wall and close the door. “Let me grab my things and I’ll meet you over there.”
He lowers himself to the couch, dropping his backpack to the floor, watching me stroll toward him. Hungry eyes roam my face, slowly down my body, and I realize my choice to change, and appear more casual, has backfired.
I purposefully dressed down after catching him staring at me one too many times, trying to taper down the attraction I felt whenever we were near each other. It was dangerous and unhealthy, and I knew these tutoring sessions would prove to be that.
“Am I the only reason why you’re here tonight?” he asks.
I sink down onto the cushion, folding one leg underneath the other. “You are.”
“Well, shit. Now I feel bad for ruining your night.”
“Not bad enough not to go to the dean, though, right?” The snark comes straight out and I regret it the second it leaves my mouth. I don’t want to come across as petulant. I’m sure there’s more to his story than meets the eye. But for now, I don’t want to rehash it. Dropping my chin to my chest, I shield my gaze from his. “Let’s just get you started and at least make both of us being here worthwhile. Do you have your exam with you? We should begin there.”
“Yeah, I have it.” He reaches for his backpack and sorts through some papers before handing it over to me.
Glancing down, I push the dark framed glasses back up the bridge of my nose.
“You wear glasses?” Connor asks, surprising us both.
“Only at night and sometimes on weekends,” I answer. “I prefer my contacts, but sometimes I need my eyes to relax.”
“You look great in glasses.” I raise an eyebrow at him. “I mean, your glasses look great. Actually,” he shakes his head, “I was right the first time. You look great in glasses.”
Resisting the urge to thank him, I bite my bottom lip and stay silent. I don’t need to encourage his potentially innocent compliment. No matter how easy it would be.
“Okay, let’s start with this part.” I lean toward him, placing the pen on the first question he got wrong, while still trying to stay out of his personal space. His delayed response confirms that this whole set up is a very bad idea.
I ask him another question, but he seems to have checked out
“Did you hear what I said?” I repeat.
“What?” He shakes his head, proof that wherever he is, he isn’t here. Where he should be.
Placing my pen down, I ask, “Why are you here?”
“To get my grade up?” he answers hesitantly.
“How about I rephrase. From what I’ve gathered, it’s your parents who pull the strings. And that’s your business with them. But you’re on my time now and you’re already distracted.”
In any other context, I wouldn’t be as sympathetic to the cause, but for a student at King, I know the pressure some parents put their kids under isn’t the least bit surprising or realistic.
With the promise of running the family business, or the threat of losing it all, this isn’t just the stuff you hear or read about in books and movies. This is reality.
When it comes to money, the ways it can control you are endless. If anybody knows that it’s me.
He lowers his head, hiding his gaze, while the lightest shade of red graces his cheeks. Light enough that if we weren’t sitting this close, I wouldn’t have been able to notice it. I don’t press on, because it’s obvious what the distraction is, and me calling him on it won’t do either of us any favors.
“Okay. So, how do you want to play this? Because I don’t want to waste your time or mine. I can’t have you distracted every lesson.”
His eyes do a quick, yet very shameless, roam over my body before his gaze comes back up to meet mine. “I should be fine now. No more distractions.”
I have to bite the inside of my cheek to hold in the smirk. Encouragement and acknowledgement are the last thing his actions need.
Opting against being close to him, I change strategies. “How about you redo the test?”
“Redo it?” he echoes.
“It wouldn’t change your grade, but we could narrow it down to whether you’re actually stumped by the content, or maybe exam conditions aren’t your forte.
He narrows his eyes at me. “Are you sure? I’m pretty sure I just fucked up, and the exam conditions have nothing to do with it.”
“I’ll be the one to judge that.” Rising from the futon, I head to my desk and turn on my computer. Every nerve ending in my body is aware he’s staring at me, the heat within me rising the bolder he becomes.
I flick my eyes away from the screen, catching his gaze. He doesn’t turn away this time, or even care he’s been caught.
As nonchalantly as I can, I switch my focus back to the task at hand, refusing to give him any proof he’s rattling me.
I click on what I need, and the desk printer roars to life. Disrupting the tension, the noise is a welcomed reminder not to engage in Mr. McAdams’ games.
Stapling the set of pages together, I make m
y way back to him. “I’ll give you an hour. If you finish sooner, let me know.”
Wordlessly, he takes the papers from me and gets to work. He stalls a few times, reads over the pages another dozen, and I do my best to walk away and pretend not to be overly concerned with whether he fails another time.
Too tired to do any more work, I take my cell out of my desk drawer and answer the string of messages left by my brothers in our family group chat.
Usually, I avoid it like the plague, their banter and camaraderie make me miss them more than I can handle.
I scroll through to find out Ceaser is going on a blind date. As usual, if he types the word ‘balls’ he wants one of us to call him and fake an emergency. My brothers are all older than me. Only five years separate me from my eldest brother; each of us being born about a year after the one before. But they’re proof age is nothing but a number because they wouldn’t know how to be mature, even if you spelled it out for them.
As luck would have it, the word ‘balls’ pops up on the screen, and without thinking, I hit the call button.
“Harper.” His gruff but surprised voice puts a smile on my face.
“Hola.”
“Are you ok?” he asks, making up his own side of the conversation.
“Es bonita?” Is she pretty?
The second the words leave my mouth, I hear a shuffle, reminding me I’m not alone in my room.
Shit.
"Es un diez perfecto por fuera. Pero por dentro es como un cinco." On the outside she’s a ten, but on the inside she’s more of a five.
I continue speaking Spanish while he stares at me, indecently enjoying the fact that I’ve piqued his interest.
“Dile que a tu hermana se le quedaron las llaves dentro del auto.” Tell her your sister locked her keys inside her car.
After a few quick exchanges, Caesar returns to the phone. “Ok, Harps. I’ll be there in ten. Just let me say bye to Angelica and I’ll be there real quick.”
“Adios, Angelica,” I sing teasingly before hanging up.
I toss my phone back in the drawer and catch Connor still staring at me. “Everything okay?”
I know very well that everything is not okay; his eyes are hungry, and the expression on his face is borderline frustrated.
“Yeah,” he clears his throat and shifts in his seat. “I think I’m done. I mean, I’m definitely finished.” He stands. “I need to go.”
“Hey, Junior.” The nickname just falls out of my mouth, shocking us both.
“Excuse me?”
“Connor. McAdam. Junior,” I clarify.
He clenches his jaw, and I don’t know what it is about seeing him angry, but it provokes a very unexplainable thrill that races up and down my spine.
Obviously holding back, he brings the paper to me. “I think I’m going to have to pass on these sessions.”
Ignoring him, I flick through the pages and notice a significant number of blank, unanswered questions. “Are you leaving because you can’t do them? Or because you don’t want to be here?”
“I don’t think it matters. I won’t be coming back.”
“Connor,” I say, my voice a little softer, my tone a little more coaxing. “You practically begged me for this, and when I said no, your father got my boss to make sure it happened. The stuff you mentioned about your father.” My hand gravitates to his upper arm, giving it a tight squeeze. “I don’t think you can afford to walk out of this room and not come back.”
I feel his body deflate under my touch, the tension slowly leaving him. I hand him back the test. “Try again.”
Snatching the papers off me, he returns to his seat, picks up his pen, and knuckles down for the next twenty minutes.
I sit in complete silence at my desk, doing my best not to disrupt Connor. Something about the way he was ready to give up makes me more determined not to let him.
The high road is never the easiest, but it’s worth it. I have to believe that. For him. For me. And for anybody else who’s had to rise above all the bullshit and focus on the end goal.
“I finished,” he calls out.
I hold my hand out. “Bring it here.”
Turning the pages, I glance over his answers.
“Are you really going to look at it while I'm still here?” he asks.
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Do you have somewhere to be?”
“No, I’d just rather not be here when you realize I failed it for a second time.”
The vulnerability in his voice catches me off guard. The usually cocky and confident guy nowhere to be seen.
With a red pen, I wordlessly begin to grade his paper. Pleasantly surprised, I hand it over to him. His eyes widen at the red seventy that sits at the top of his page. “Really?”
“I guess it was good you stayed then.” A small smirk pulls on either side of his lips. “You managed to prove that you do know the content. Are you sure you still want to go ahead with these tutoring sessions? I can tell Dean Billings you don’t need them.”
He straightens himself, squaring his shoulders, showing off his stature. “Yeah. I think I’m going to enjoy every single one of them.”
9
Connor
I could listen to Ms. Martínez’s voice and watch her all day. It never gets old. Probably my biggest issue with this class is that I can’t focus on what she’s saying. I hear her speak and my dick takes over. There’s not enough blood flow for my brain and my hard-on.
“Javier.” Ms. Martínez calls my name and my focus snaps back in place.
“Si?” Yes?
“Escuchaste lo que dije?” Did you hear what I said?
Shit. I have no idea what she’s talking about. “No, lo siento.” No, sorry.
“Vamos a realizar un juego de rol.” We’re going to role-play.
My dick twitches at the idea of role-playing with her. Shit. Focus, man. “Muy bien.” Okay. I nod.
“Yo seré el cliente que requiere tus servicios. Tú contestaras mis preguntas y me ayudaras en lo que necesite.” I’m going to be a customer seeking out your business. You’re going to answer my questions and help me with whatever I need. I nod, showing her I’m on board.
“No seguiremos un guión. Quiero que sea espontáneo.” We won’t be following a script. I want this to be spontaneous. She smooths a hand over her hair. “Pasa aquí al frente para que todos puedan verte.” Come up here so everyone can see you.
I rake a hand through my hair. I’m a little uncomfortable with this exercise because I’m doing it with Ms. Martínez and in front of the whole class. It makes my attraction to her feel awkward and on display for everyone to notice.
Inhaling slowly, I calm myself. My chair scrapes the floor as I rise. Walking toward the front of the class where she stands has my heart pounding. She watches me intently, her eyes skating up and down the length of my body.
“Hola, soy Javier. Bienvenida a McAdam, despacho de abogados.” Hi, I’m Javier. Welcome to McAdam Law Office. I hold out my hand and immediately realize I’ve made a mistake, but it’s too late to retract it.
She slips her hand in mine and my fingers close around her soft skin. “Soy Harper Martínez.” I’m Harper Martínez.
I clench my teeth together and force myself to resist the urge to tug her closer and slam my mouth on hers. I release my hold and remain silent as I fumble for something to say. The silence stretches awkwardly on as I stare down into Harper’s eyes. “En qué puedo servirle?” How can I help you?
“Fui despedida de la compañía para la que trabajaba sin razón alguna.” The company I worked for fired me for no reason. She jumps in without missing a beat.
“Lamento escuchar eso. Recibió algún aviso o advertencia verbal previo a esto?” I’m sorry to hear that. Did you receive any verbal warnings prior to this?
She shakes her head emphatically. “No, ninguna.” No, none.
“Recibió algún aviso o advertencia por escrito?” Did you receive a written warning?
“No.
Nada. Mi jefe me llamó a su oficina y me dijo: estás despedida, recoge tus pertenencias.” No. Nothing. My boss called me into the office and said: you’re fired, clean up your desk. She’s so convincing in her performance that it helps me to calm down and keep my focus.
“Paso algo anteriormente que pudiera ser la causa del despido? Alguien la amenazó o maltrato?” Did anything happen prior to this that could be the cause for this? Did anyone threaten you or treat you unfairly?
“Uno de mis compañeros de trabajo hizo un comentario inapropiado sobre mi y presente una queja en Recursos Humanos sobre el.” One of my coworkers made an inappropriate comment about me and I went to Human Resources about him.
“Qué fue lo que dijo? Se presentó alguna medida disciplinaria contra el?” What did he say? Was any disciplinary action taken against him?
Her eyes are wide as she gives a quick shake of her head. “Dijo que tenía algo que yo podía chupar. Y no. No hicieron nada al respecto.” He said he had something for me to suck. And no. They did nothing.
My eyebrows pinch together as I imagine someone being inappropriate with Harper. I’d kick their ass. Reaching down, I pick up a piece of paper from her desk and hold it out to her. “Necesito que llene este formulario y mi secretaria se pondrá en contacto con usted en un par de días.” I need you to fill this out for me and my secretary will be in touch with you in the next few days.
She frowns. “Eso es todo? No hay algo que pueda hacer hoy?” That’s it? You can’t do anything today?
“Casos como el suyo toman tiempo. No hay una respuesta inmediata. Cuando vuelva para nuestra próxima cita tendré una idea más clara a lo que nos enfrentaremos.” Cases like yours take time. There’s no instant answer. When you come back for our next appointment I’ll have a better idea of what we’re dealing with.
Harper smiles at me and turns her head to look out at the other members of the class. “Que opinan? Javier hizo un excelente trabajo, cierto?” What do you all think? Javier did an excellent job, right?
There are murmured agreements, nodding heads, and even some clapping. I grin and feel a sense of pride that surprises me. I just rocked that role-playing exercise.
