by Leila James
“Nope. Not hungry.” I shake my head. “I know it’s dumb, but this whole Micah thing really throws my life into major upheaval until football season is over.”
Scarlett wrinkles her nose. “Don’t laugh, but I have no idea when football ends.”
“Cupcake, considering your boyfriend is the captain, you’re pretty clueless. Cute, but clueless. It depends on how far they make it. Usually, like November or December. It totally depends on whether they make it past districts to regionals or states.”
I groan. “He seems to think we can just pretend like we’re meeting and not really do it. What if they think I’m tutoring him and he still fails?”
“That would suck.” Max crumples up his trash between his palms.
“That’s it. I’ve decided. I’m going to try to get out of it. Maybe if I tell my parents that I don’t have time to help him in addition to my own studies, they’ll say something.”
A sharp tone sounds from the speaker at the back of the building. “Daphne Davis, please report to the guidance office.”
Scarlett makes a face. “What’s that all about?”
“I’m not sure. Headmaster Gilmore mentioned something about them wanting to talk to me this morning. He also said the tutoring somehow would help me? I don’t know.” I groan, dropping my head to my arms, which are resting on the picnic table in front of me. “This is the Mondayest Monday ever.”
Chapter 6
I take a deep breath as I knock on my guidance counselor’s partially open door. Mrs. Purcell is nice enough, but I really haven’t had much need to come see her at all since transferring to Rosehaven. I’m a good student, so I basically just do my own thing and email her when I have questions or concerns.
“Come on in, Daphne.” She smiles and sits back in her chair, folding her hands over her stomach. “Have a seat.”
I set my book bag in one seat and settle myself into the other before looking across the desk at her.
“So, I assume Headmaster Gilmore told you why I asked you to come see me today?”
I suck my lips into my mouth for a second. “Actually, he didn’t. He just hinted that you had something to discuss with me.”
“Oh. Well. Okay, then. Every year as we approach college application due dates, we go through everyone’s information and transcripts again to make sure we haven’t missed anything. We want to make sure you have the best shot at being accepted to the college of your choice.”
“I don’t understand. My grades are good.”
“Oh, honey, that’s not it. They’re more than good. Exemplary, in fact. But what you don’t have are extracurricular activities. And, granted, you’ve only been here just over a year, but I’m assuming you don’t have plans to up and play something like, say, softball next semester since you didn’t play a sport last year.”
Slowly, I shake my head, worry creeping up my spine like a tiny, awful spider. “I—”
“It’s not that schools won’t look at you—because let’s face it, you’re in the running for valedictorian—but you’ll be a far better candidate when you fill out your applications if you have a couple of extras.”
The pieces snap into place. “That’s what the headmaster was referring to with Micah’s tutoring, I guess.” I shift uncomfortably in my seat, remembering how Micah had very specifically let me know today just how much he doesn’t want—or need—me to tutor him. My heart sinks like a brick into my stomach and my eyes drop to my hands in my lap. “Isn’t it too late to add anything else? I only have a few months before I need to have everything sent in.”
“You’d think so, but no. That’s why I brought you in to talk to me today. Besides the tutoring, there are two more opportunities I’d like to encourage you to consider.” She pauses, and it’s as if she knows this information—my oversight—has hit me hard.
“I guess I’ve always worried so much about my grades, I didn’t think I’d have time for anything else.” Oh my God, I really am stuck tutoring him, no matter how terrible it’s going to go.
She nods. “That’s understandable. The sheer number of advanced placement courses you’ve taken this year is daunting.” She draws in a breath, studying me. “When did you and Micah decide you’d work together? We can see if we can work this around that.”
“Oh. Um. We haven’t actually set that up yet. I’m thinking maybe Tuesdays and Thursdays to start.” My gaze slides to the side, and I squeeze my eyes shut for a second. That’s if he’ll even get on board with this.
Mrs. Purcell nods. “No problem, but definitely create a schedule that works for the two of you sooner than later. Speaking of Micah, he’s somewhat involved in one of your other options, too.”
My ears get a weird buzzing sound in them, and I shake my head, trying to make it stop. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Micah Robertson—each of our football players has someone special in the background, cheering them on. His spirit girl has come down with mono and won’t be in school for the rest of football season, so we need a replacement ASAP.”
I swallow. “Spirit girl.” It’s not even a question. Just a statement of the craziness this woman has laid at my feet as an offering.
“Yes. You’d be part of the Rosehaven Spirit Squad. We have students, both male and female, signed up to cheer on an athlete from one of our many sports teams. Sometimes students who are dating even choose to support each other. It’s pretty cute.”
“Right.” I take a deep breath, trying to head off my internal meltdown. “What does the spirit squad do, exactly?”
“Oh, it’s easy. We provide you with the team schedule. Then, on game or competition days, the spirit squad member usually puts a sign on his or her athlete’s locker—hall locker, gym locker, or both—maybe makes them a treat, or sends them a note of encouragement. That sort of thing. We even trust you with their locker combinations so you’re able to leave something for them if you want to.”
“So, each person on the spirit squad is assigned a specific player?”
“Yep.” She nods happily, completely oblivious to my impending heart attack.
My throat dry, I whisper, “And you want me to be Micah’s spirit girl.”
“Yep. Think you can manage that? If you’re in, I’ll jot that down and let the teacher who supervises the group know.”
I feel myself falling right off a cliff and into the black abyss that is Micah. “Okay, I’ll do it,” I say, for the second time today.
“Great! Then the other suggestion I had for you is an opportunity to join the homecoming committee. You are so organized and pay such diligent attention to detail. I thought it would be a perfect fit for you. What do you think?”
School dances have always been the absolute last thing on my mind. I’d rather go to a football game, honestly. I blow out a heavy breath. I feel defeated. I’ve worked so hard my entire academic career, and she’s telling me that without freaking homecoming committee on my application, I run the risk of being passed over for someone who enjoys all this stuff. “Yep. Sounds great.”
I smile, my stomach gurgling in displeasure, while beating myself up for ignoring extracurriculars all this time. So dumb. So stupid. I could have at least joined a group I halfway liked if I hadn’t waited so long.
“Wonderful, Daphne. That committee meets with Ms. Jayson on Saturday mornings here at school. I’m pretty sure they’re getting ready to decide the theme at the next meeting.” She grins big at me. “Super exciting stuff.”
Man, this woman goes on and on like she hasn’t just blown up my entire life.
“I’ll tell Alora Berridge to expect you at the next committee meeting.”
Fuck. My. Life. Could this get any worse?
Chapter 7
Back at home, I slide into one of the rickety seats at our kitchen table and pull out my physics textbook and notes so I can get some of my homework done before dinner. I stare blankly at the lined notebook paper while thinking back over the day. What the heck just happened? The request to he
lp with Micah’s tutoring had come out of nowhere. And, man, he really doesn’t want me to help him. But now I need him to let me follow through with it—not just for his sake, but for mine as well. I shudder. I can’t see this going well, but I’ll have to talk to him tomorrow about setting up a schedule. I can only hope he doesn’t completely bite my head off.
Mom pulls out a chair and sits across from me. “You seem distracted.”
“Mm-hmm.” I keep my eyes glued to my textbook.
She shifts in her chair, resting her elbows on the table. “What’s wrong?”
I huff out a breath. “Everything.” My eyes flick up to hers. “I’ve screwed up and now all my hard work is going to be for nothing.”
“The headmaster called this morning after he spoke to you. He mentioned that he and the guidance counselor had noticed that your applications will get a boost with the addition of tutoring another student and some other extracurricular stuff. Is that what you’re talking about?”
My throat thick with emotion, I nod, unable to speak.
“Honey, it doesn’t mean that you’re not going to get in somewhere. You’re still a great candidate.”
I sniff as a tear sneaks out of the corner of my eye. “I just feel really dumb right now.”
“You’re anything but dumb. We all know that. Wouldn’t you rather they said something than not?”
“Yes. But—”
“So, do the tutoring, be the spirit girl, join the homecoming committee. It’ll be fine.”
“But—” I release a shaky breath. “I think tutoring Micah is going to be difficult.”
“Oh. Is this Micah Robertson?”
“Yep.” I blow a stray strand of hair out of my face.
“Why would it be difficult?” She narrows her eyes.
I shrug. “He seemed pretty ticked off. He’s being forced into it by his football coach.”
“What’s this?” Dad walks into the room, and his reassuring hand grips my shoulder.
Their eyes connect over my head. “She’s worried about all the college application stuff that the headmaster talked to me about this morning.”
Ugh. Talking to Dad about tutoring Micah is about the last thing on earth I want to do. My dad’s really funny about me doing anything with boys. It goes way back to the day eleven-year-old me came home crying and wouldn’t tell him why beyond the fact that I’d run into some mean boys. Ever since, Dad has been overprotective about me going out on my own. He’s worried when I go places with Max, even though I’ve told him a bunch of times that Max is my friend who also happens to be gay and would never, ever hurt me. Here we are, more than a year into our friendship, and Max and I still get a battery of questions thrown our way from my dad every time Max picks me up to go somewhere.
Dad squeezes my shoulder, then releases me. He sits down at the head of the table. “We’re all for you tutoring if it will help you on your applications.” He shakes his head, folding his hands in front of him. With a quick glance at Mom, he clears his throat. “You know we can’t afford to send you to any of the colleges that are in your top five—not unless you get some sort of scholarship.”
I swallow hard and nod as tears prick the backs of my eyes again. “I know.”
“Hey, look at me. I’m really sorry it makes it a little harder on you knowing that, but I’m sure you’ve overheard … we’re having some financial issues right now.” Mom and Dad own a small bookstore in town. It’s where my love of all things books and learning has come from.
“I’ve heard you arguing.” I look down at the table, unable to hold his gaze.
Mom sighs. “We’re fine, we’re just under a lot of stress. And with something as big as college on the horizon for you, it’s better that you understand what’s happening. We’re in danger of having to close the store.”
My head whips up. “What? No. That can’t—”
Dad holds his hand palm out. “We’re not going to lose it. We just have to be very careful with expenses right now.”
I hear them loud and clear. It’s stressful enough to have business worries, which are causing relationship difficulties, without adding my looming college expense to the mix.
All that said, I’ve always been super diligent with my studies. They’ve never had to push me at all. So, I’ll figure out how I’m going to get this accomplished. It’s under my control whether or not I continue on to the college of my choosing. I’ve mapped it all out and gotten this far. I’m the only person I can count on to make it happen. And damn, it weighs on me, especially now that I know I’ve made a bad judgment call by not being a freaking joiner all these years. It’s all caught up with me, so now I have to participate in these groups and convince Micah to play nice. So, great. Now I’m stuck doing things I don’t want to do and spending time with one big, intimidating jock who doesn’t even remember me.
At least I managed to get away without discussing Micah with Dad—because I don’t think he’d have been as quick to approve if he knew who I’ll be tutoring.
Chapter 8
One look down the hallway is all I need to give me second thoughts about finding Micah this morning and convincing him to just pick a time and place to meet up. Alora is practically climbing him as he kisses her. He’s holding her face between his big hands, tilting her head to the perfect angle as he ravages her mouth. As I watch, unable to look away, he removes his hands from her face only to grab her ass and pull her snugly to him. She practically melts. They pull apart reluctantly as Farrah runs up to him, giving him a hug that plasters every inch of her body to his.
My face burns. I can’t do this. I don’t even want to talk to him, much less tutor him. The worst of it is my nipples are hard and my panties might be a little damp. How did observing the three of them gross me out and turn me on at the same time? I draw in a shuddering breath.
I know it’s none of my business, but the idea that he sleeps around is disturbing to me. I can’t wrap my head around how these girls could not care that the guy they are seeing—the guy they are likely having sex with—is also seeing other girls. How is this not an issue for them? It would be for me. For sure. Maybe I’m just a prude.
Ha-ha, Daphne. You’re not even on his radar, so what are you worried about?
The talking-to that I give myself doesn’t stop me from thinking about what’s right in front of my face. The thing is, Micah could have any girl he wanted, and she’d be his without question. But maybe that’s partly why he does it. Maybe he gets off on the fact he can have anyone. If that’s the case, it’s kinda sick and twisted. I give a furtive glance in their direction as my path brings me closer to their shenanigans, my eyes taking in every last detail.
These particular girls have perfect bodies. Big breasts, tiny waists, and curvy hips. I look down, disgusted when I take in the straight shot right to my toes—no boobs in the way at all. I don’t think they even make a shirt small enough to showcase my nonexistent chest.
And how do they get away with hemming their skirts like that? I thought there were dress code policies in place to prevent them from sexing up our uniforms. Then again, they’re Roses. Their parents donate obscene amounts of money to the academy every year, and it allows them to do whatever they want.
I’m smart enough to realize that every single thing running through my head right now makes me sound incredibly jealous that Micah looks at these girls the way he does.
Feeling disgusted with myself, I sigh and try to slide past them unnoticed. Instead, a dude hightailing it in the other direction plows right into my arm, knocking me straight into Micah’s back. Clearly his athletic abilities include whirling around and catching falling females because that’s exactly what he does as I stumble.
One hand grips my waist and the other catches me by the elbow.
His voice is gruff in my ear. “Are you okay?” He makes sure I’m steady before removing his hands.
I stare up into his eyes and feel sort of mesmerized. I wonder to myself if that kid jarred somethi
ng loose in my head when he bumped into me. “I-I’m fine.” I brush over my skirt front and back with my hands to make sure it’s in place. My worst nightmare would be to find out I’ve been walking around with my ass hanging out.
He takes a deep breath, a funny look sliding over his handsome features. His words come out pained. “So, where do you want to meet?”
My eyes get really big. “Meet?” The synapses in my brain must have stopped firing in favor of my hormones taking over and rampaging out of control. He wants to meet up with … me?
“For tutoring.” He shoves his hand through his hair. “Coach says I have to.”
“Oh, um …” Cue furiously blushing cheeks. “How about that coffee shop over near the hardware store?”
He nods, his jaw tense as he works it back and forth, thinking. “But not until six. I’ve got practice until five thirty.”
My mind whirs. I guess I’m going to have to go home and come back out, or stay here and study in the library until it’s time to meet him. Or …
“Is that a problem?”
“What?” I shuffle my feet, mildly embarrassed that I’ve been in my head and his stare has been concentrated on me. “No, I’ll figure it out. Maybe I’ll just do homework at the coffee shop until you can get there.”
Alora laughs from beside him, reminding me of her presence and looking at me with such loathing it makes me uneasy. “She’s such a fucking nerd, Micah.”
Aria’s head cocks to the side as she approaches, rolling her eyes at Alora. “That’s kind of the point with a tutor, isn’t it? They’re supposed to be all nerdy and shit.”
Um? Thank you, Aria? I think. Really, who knows what Aria has going on in her head at any given time. She and Scarlett supposedly made nice as of the party at Beau’s last weekend, but to me, she’s still the head cheer bitch, who, when she isn’t in ignore-all-Thorns mode, routinely looks down her nose at me, even when I haven’t done anything to deserve it. Like I told Scarlett at the beginning of the school year, we’re better off steering clear of the whole nasty lot.
