by Whitney G.
I brought my coffee to my lips, taking a slow sip. “I’m confused.”
“This is like our tenth date, Charlotte.”
“It’s only our sixth.”
“Well, it feels like our eighth because we went out a few times this summer,” he said. “I’ve spent like sixty dollars on you so far—not including today’s coffee and the bonfire tickets, and I feel like I’m not seeing any type of return on my investment. Most girls let me hit it on at least date four or five, and you’re holding out past the rule.”
What the fuck? “I’m sorry. What did you just say?”
“That came out the wrong way.” He reached across the table and clasped my hand, but I jerked back. “I do really like you, Charlotte, that’s a fact. But if I’m going to spend my entire senior year dating one person, I need to make sure it’s more than worth my while. There are tons of other girls on this campus who won’t hold out past the rule.”
I downed the rest of my coffee in one gulp and stood to my feet.
“Wait,” he said, grabbing my hand again. “I mean, maybe we can go on a few more dates, but we’ll have to fuck at some point. It’s not like either of us is a virgin or something, so I just don’t get why it’s too much to ask. I did say that I really liked you.”
“Go fuck yourself, Peter.” I snatched the bonfire tickets off the table and left the café, heading straight for the Engineering Building. Straight for Nadira’s work-study office.
“You know my supervisor hates you, right?” She looked up at me as soon as I shut the door. “She claims you’re a bad influence on my work.”
“No, that’s what my supervisor says about you.”
“Same thing.” She laughed. “Did Peter cancel on you or something?”
“No, he revealed that he’s a douchebag, just like every other guy I’ve dated here.” I slumped into a chair. “Maybe I should start all my introductions with something different next time. How about, ‘Hey, my name is Charlotte. I grew up in a small town with strict parents who refused to let me date until my last semester of high school. I haven’t found anyone worthy of losing my virginity to, and it probably won’t be you’.”
“I think that’s a great idea.” Eric’s voice suddenly came over her phone’s speakers. “It would save a lot of these guys some time!”
“You’re being dramatic,” Nadira said. “Being a virgin isn’t that big of a deal, but we’ve already told you that not too many guys are looking for long-term relationships in college. Especially without sex. So, just focus on yourself and make it clear that you’re not interested in being more than friends.”
“I walked all the way across campus for some advice and this is what you’re giving me?” I pouted like a child.
“Would you prefer if I said, Oh my god! Run after him right now and promise to sleep with him ASAP before he leaves your life forever?” She shook her head. “If you want to have meaningless sex, which we both know you don’t, I’m sure Eric would love to give you a hand.”
“I will happily give you a hand, Charlotte.” His voice came over the speakers again. “I’ll even throw in some of my best dirty talk for free. Do you prefer the word cunt, warm-box, or pussy?”
Nadira immediately hung up on him and we both laughed.
“Peter was going to take me to the illegal bonfire tonight, but—” I pulled the tickets out of my pocket. “Being the good friend that I am, I figured that you and I should go in his place. I also figured that I should be drunk out of my mind so I can quickly forget all about him.”
“I’m in!” She smiled. “But don’t you dare think that this gets you out of going bar-crawling with me this weekend.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking.” I held the tickets up high. “What’s it going to be?”
“Ugh. You’re the worst.” She laughed and grabbed one from me. “I’ll finish my reports and I’ll pick you up in front of Lothrop at eight.”
“I thought it was my turn to drive.”
“No offense,” she said, looking as if she couldn’t believe I offered. “I’m never getting in a car with you behind the wheel again. Not until you go one full year without getting a speeding ticket.”
“I can’t remember the last time I got a speeding ticket.”
“You got two last week, Charlotte. Last. Week.”
“Fine.” I laughed and headed toward the door.
“Wait,” Nadira called before I stepped out. “For what it’s worth, I meant what I said about you just being friends with guys this year. The last few guys you’ve dated honestly didn’t deserve you, Peter included.”
“Thank you.”
“Now, if your current tutor-boy ever offers to go out with you, I personally think you should make an exception for the hell of it. You’ll be doing it more-so for me than for yourself.”
“Goodbye, Nadira.” I stepped out and shut the door. “See you at eight!”
GRAYSON: THEN
Seven years ago
Pittsburgh
SUBJECT: NEXT TIME You Jackasses Throw an ‘Unofficial’ Bonfire ...
How about making sure that you won’t burn down the grounds in the process?! How about ASKING your neighbors if they’ll mind having five hundred students in their streets until three in the morning?
I know damn well that this was not a “team” idea and whenever KYLE and GRAYSON want to own up to this shit, I’ll reduce the extra five daily miles you all now owe me, to three miles.
I’m waiting.
—Coach Whitten
SUBJECT: RE: NEXT TIME You Jackasses Throw an ‘Unofficial’ Bonfire ...
It was me, Coach.
Grayson had nothing to do with it this time. He didn’t even show up. Speaking of which—
Dude, where were you? I fucked like three girls from this bonfire. You probably could’ve hooked up with at least five. I don’t think I’ll need another blowjob for a month after how amazing these were.
PS—Are you back at our apartment yet? I need to tell you these stories in person when Coach isn’t acting like this shit is a big deal.
—Kyle
SUBJECT: RE: RE: NEXT Time You Jackasses Throw an ‘Unofficial’ Bonfire ...
Kyle,
Meet me in my office at the complex NOW.
—Coach Whitten
SUBJECT: RE: RE: RE: Next Time You Jackasses Throw an ‘Unofficial’ Bonfire ...
I meant to send that last part to just Grayson. Not to you, Coach. Can I come in a few hours? I mean, now that you’ve read what I said, surely you understand how exhausted I am. Three girls, Coach. THREE.
—Kyle.
SUBJECT: RE: RE: RE: Re: Next Time You Jackasses Throw an ‘Unofficial’ Bonfire ...
Right. Fucking. NOW.
—Coach Whitten
I LAUGHED AS I READ over this morning’s emails, now glad I’d spent half of my weekend studying last season’s game footage instead of co-hosting the bonfire with Kyle. The other half was spent searching for whatever I could find about my sexy, smart-mouthed tutor.
I was hoping to find something new by today, our second Tuesday, but my search was futile. I’d only found her private Facebook page, which featured an “I Love Pitt” picture instead of her face, and a few art reviews she’d written when she was a staff writer for The Pitt News. Other than the fact that she was listed as a fellow honors student in the directory, there wasn’t much else I found about her.
I hated to admit it, but during the entire fifteen minutes that we'd talked last week, I couldn't help but stare. My advisor's "Charlotte Taylor is a complete sweetheart," description hadn't prepared me for the hazel-eyed vixen I encountered that day. Her coffee colored hair, bright pink lips, and the way her dress clung to her hips were now playing in a never-ending loop in my mind.
In all my years here, I couldn’t believe we’d never crossed paths. I was more than certain that I would’ve remembered seeing her—even if it was only for a few seconds. In fact, I’m sure I would’ve approached her the s
econd I saw her. Then again, something told me that saying, “I think you’re sexy as fuck” wouldn’t have earned me anything from her but more sarcasm.
When I arrived at Highland Café for our second session, Charlotte was sitting at a table in the back, her head buried in a book. Just like last week, she had a stack of colorful folders and notebooks set in the center of the table, and I was willing to bet that she had some type of OCD about needing to have twenty different types of pens and pencils.
“You’re late, again,” she said, when I approached the table. “How shocking.”
“If I had your phone number, I would’ve been able to tell you that my afternoon fitness session was running late.”
She looked up at me, her hazel eyes showing me she was unconvinced. “You have my email address. You could’ve sent me a message.”
“Fair enough.” I took a seat across from her. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time. What do you want to start with today?”
“The Bach pieces.” She furrowed her brow. “Wait a minute. Where is your notebook?”
“At home.” I pulled one of hers from the stack. “I figured you would have enough for me to borrow one.”
“I’m going to charge you for that.”
“I’m sure I can afford it.” I smiled. “My advisor mentioned that you’re a pre-law and art major, but you strike me as the teacher-type. Your smart-ass mouth and hostility aside, you seem like you might be good at it.”
“Did you bring anything?” Her eyes widened, as I picked up one of her pens, and she looked like this was some type of life or death matter. “Where are your literature books? The ones we discussed you getting last week?”
“I haven’t had the time to buy them yet.”
“We’re two whole weeks into the semester. Are you planning to buy them after finals?”
“Okay, I take back what I just said about you being a teacher. You clearly don’t know how to construct a compelling metaphor.”
“Grayson Connors.”
“You can call me Grayson.”
“Grayson Connors,” she said my name even harsher and pressed her red coated lips together, turning me on even more. “Let’s get a few things straight. Since you clearly have a love for numbering things, let me help you out. One, you need me more than I need you. Way more than I need you.”
I smiled.
“Two, if I’m expected to be a professional tutor, I’m going to need you to treat me like one and take these sessions and everything that I put into them seriously.” She let out a breath and leaned back against her seat.
“Is there a third reason coming?” I asked. “There’s no point in making a list if there are only two things.”
“Yes, there is a third thing.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “You need to make sure you show up on time, or else I’m leaving after the ten-minute mark.”
“I’ll be early from now on,” I said. “But to make things even straighter between us, your credits for this are tied to how well you tutor me, so I’d say we need each other equally. That, and I’ll take you seriously once you agree to stop being overly hostile with me. You said that I haven’t done anything to you personally.”
“Besides being a domineering jerk with a huge ego,” she muttered.
“What did you say?”
“I said, fine,” She tapped her pencil against the table. “You’re right. I’ll stop treating you like an enemy.”
“So, we’re friends now?”
She ignored that question. “I take it you’ll be buying your books after the add-drop period?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re not going to write any essays until all the professors give you the updated syllabi, since they usually change something at the last minute?” She looked as if she couldn’t believe the words that were falling out of her mouth.
“Yes, to that question as well.”
“Okay, well ...” She shrugged. “Is there any reason why the two of us need to continue sitting here today?”
“I can think of quite a few things I’d like to discuss.”
“Are they related to your work?”
“They’re related to you.”
“Oh, okay.” She smiled. “Give me five seconds and we can definitely talk about that.” She picked up all her supplies and tossed them into her bag. Then she stood up and rushed out of the café and across the street.
Is this a rejection?
GRAYSON: THEN
Seven years ago
Pittsburgh
“WAIT A MINUTE.” I LOOKED over my shoulder at Kyle as we lifted weights the next morning. Coach gave you what as a punishment for the bonfire?”
“He said I have to attend three showings of The Vagina Monologues play—one for every woman I ‘disrespected’ at the bonfire, and I owe him twenty written apologies to all our neighbors.” He dropped his barbells to the floor. “He wants five miles from me every Sunday morning and three extra miles after every practice until the end of the season. He also said he doesn’t want to hear anything else about my partying after this weekend, which is quite perfect because that means I get to bring in my last college birthday exactly how I’ve always dreamed it.”
“Please don’t tell me anything about your plans,” I said. “One of us has to be able to truly play dumb when the cops come.”
“The cops won’t have any reason to come this time.” He laughed. “I’m having it on the North Shore Saturday night, so can I trust that you’ll be my designated driver and bring me and whoever’s willing back to our place?”
“Of course. I’ll come after I get done studying.”
“Figures.” He stepped closer to the mirror. “I really don’t understand why you think you need to make all A’s. We’re not in high school anymore.”
“Yet you still insist on acting like it.”
“Funny.” He laughed. “I’m just saying that they don’t print our grades on transcripts and since you’re definitely going to the league after graduation, it really doesn’t matter what grades you make.”
“Nothing is guaranteed,” I said, remembering the last words my dad said to me before he passed away.
“Nothing is guaranteed except for you being drafted into the NFL within the top five, and me being drafted within the top ten.”
I shook my head and knew Kyle more than understood what my father told me, but I couldn't argue with him on his prediction. Even if the two of us gave halfway decent performances this year, our performances from the past three seasons were warranting interest from the NFL teams and our names were mentioned in ESPN's "Best College Player" rankings every week.
“Do you know a girl here named Charlotte?” I asked, changing the subject.
“I know plenty of girls here named Charlotte. You’re going to have to be way more specific than that.”
“She’s a senior, has hazel eyes, and a smart-ass mouth.”
“Does she have red hair or black hair?”
“Neither. It’s dark brown.”
“Wait.” He turned around to face me. “Is the Charlotte you’re talking about sexy as hell?”
“Yes.”
“Ugh. Yeah.” He groaned. “I know that Charlotte. What about her?”
“I—” I held back. I didn’t want to say too much yet, and I didn’t want to admit that I was struggling to keep her off my mind. “I have peer tutoring sessions with her this year for my literature classes.”
“Well, just so you know, that’s all you’ll be getting with her.” He shook his head. “My friend Mike from Carnegie Mellon told me about her a while ago. She’s on my personal blacklist, so you might as well blacklist her, too.”
“You’ve dated her before?”
“Hell, no.” He looked offended. “Look. My friend Mike walked her home from a frat party super late one night last year, and then she invited him up to her room. So, quite naturally, he thought that meant they were about to fuck, right?”
“Not necessarily.”
“
Yes, necessarily.” He crossed his arms. “Can you please find a way to be my so-called best friend named Grayson or just pretend to be him today?”
I laughed. “I can try.”
“Anyway, so she invites him up to her room, but instead of taking her clothes off, she makes some coffee. Then she takes him down to her dorm’s lounge where she proceeds to tell him about her favorite books. Her favorite books. Until five in the morning.”
“That’s why she’s blacklisted?
“I’m not even done yet,” he continued. “When she finally walks him out to the exit around seven in the morning—with not even a hint of an ‘I’ll show my appreciation to you for walking me home later’ line, he asks for her phone number. You know, to kind of maybe seal the deal for next time, but she says no. Then she says he’s more than welcome to join her at some type of art gallery on Sunday.”
“Did your friend ever meet her at the art gallery?”
“Are you shitting me?” He rolled his eyes. “No. He never talked to her again and he told me about her so I wouldn’t waste my time. Now, I’m telling you, so you’ll never waste yours.”
“Thank you for your story-time.”
“You’re more than welcome.” He took a long swig of water. “I also heard she has a boyfriend who she’s super loyal to at another college, so sexy as hell or not, she’s not worth anyone’s time here.”
Maybe she does have a boyfriend. That would explain her attitude toward me.
“Anyway,” Kyle said, “Speaking of girls who are worth my time, let me finally tell you about the three girls from the bonfire.”
I halfway listened as he gave me a play by play of his sex-filled weekend, as he gave me excessive details I could’ve done without. I was far more interested in unraveling the mystery of Charlotte and how the hell she’d flown under my radar for so long.
All I knew for sure was that I’d never been more attracted to someone after only a few encounters in my life, and her being my tutor for this semester was going to be a serious problem.
