by Whitney G.
“The corner of Seventh and Broadway.”
“Okay…” He turns on the radio, and I’m surprised to hear my favorite band blasting through the speakers. I almost compliment him on his good taste, but then I remember he’s a thief.
Thieves do not have good taste.
Neither of us speaks as he coasts through the suburbs and onto the backstreets, but I can feel tension between us; I even feel butterflies in my stomach.
As we approach Seventh and Broadway, he shakes his head and slows his speed. “Mia, you do not live here...This is just the entrance to your subdivision.”
“Okay, and? Do you really think I would give you my real address? I’ll walk the rest of the way. The rain isn’t that bad now.”
Smiling, he drives past the entrance, far down the street, and parks the car in an abandoned lot.
“What are you doing?” I ask. “Go back. Go back right now.”
“I need your help with AP English.
“I need your help with learning directions...My neighborhood is back there.”
He ignores my comment. “AP English is the only class I don’t have an A in.”
“You make A’s?”
“Yes.” He smirks. “I make A’s, except for English. I have a C plus and I need at least a B minus if I’m going to look appealing to colleges.”
“Wait a minute, what?” I try to temporarily put my annoyances aside. “You’re the star football player. You don’t need to make good grades to get an athletic scholarship; you just need to keep playing football. Isn’t that what you want?”
He doesn’t answer that. Instead he sighs. “I need you to help me with the literature components and help me strengthen some of my essays.”
“Why do you want me to help you?”
“Why wouldn’t I? You have the best grade in the class and I’m pretty sure being a smart ass, which you clearly are, requires quite a few brain cells, so I figure there’s no one better to ask.”
“Maybe, but I’m not interested.”
“I’ll pay you.”
I look at him for a second to see if he’s being serious. “Is that how you get what you want?”
“No, that’s not my usual method, but I figure you won’t go for that.” That stupid grin is on his face again.
“My services don’t come cheap,” I say. “They’re not cheap at all.”
“Honestly, I’d be disappointed if they were.”
“Then in that case, I’m sure you can’t afford me.”
“Try me.” He cranks the engine and starts to drive, heading toward my neighborhood again.
I think for a moment, unsure of what tutors usually charge. I come up with a number I know he won’t agree to. “Twenty dollars an hour.”
“Deal,” he says smoothly.
“Deal? Just like that?”
“Why not?”
“Because that’s a lot of money.”
“I’m sure you’ll be worth every penny.”
“Fine. We’ll start next week.” I wait for him to drop me off at the corner, where I told him I stayed, but he drives into the neighborhood instead.
Looking over at me, he warns, “I’m not letting you out of the car until you tell me which of these houses is yours? I need to make sure you get home safe.”
“So, you’re a gentleman?”
“Only for some girls.” He smiles and I roll my eyes, deciding to give in so I can get this ride over with.
“5632...Down a few more houses and on your left.”
He nods and speeds up a little, eventually pulling right in front of my mailbox.
I immediately unbuckle my seatbelt and collect my bag from the floor. Thanks for the ride.”
“Wait a minute,” he says. “I need your phone number...For tutoring purposes of course,” he adds with a sly smile.
He hands me his phone and I reluctantly type in my number. I save it under “For Tutoring Purposes of Course” and give it back to him before getting out and rushing inside my house.
As soon as I make it upstairs to my room, my cell phone buzzes with a text notification. It’s an unknown number.
This is Dean. Here’s my number, you can save it under “For ANY Purposes Of Course…”
I should’ve known to stay away from him that very day...
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