Tell Me When

by Stina Lindenblatt

  “Do you know him?” Jordan asks, her voice competing with the loud hum of the treadmill and the pounding of our feet, while keeping quiet enough so Marcus can’t hear her.

  “I’d say.” The girl’s expression hardens. “He’s amazing in bed, but don’t expect more than that. The guy’s got a reputation a mile long. He’s not looking to settle down.”

  “Then he’s perfect,” Jordan exclaims.

  I stare at her, mouth open. “Perfect for what?”

  “Tutoring you. A hot tutor who’s great in bed—what more could you want?”

  “You’re not serious, are you?”

  Jordan laughs at my no-doubt shocked expression. “Of course not. You need a tutor who can help you with math, not one who’s so hot he’ll distract you from learning anything.”

  Oh, good. She hasn’t gone completely insane.

  “What about Brittany?”

  I take it back. She is insane. “You’ve gotta be kidding me, right?”

  “She’s pre-med and I’ve seen her calculus text in your room.”

  “You’re forgetting she hates me.”

  “No, she—okay, maybe she does a little.”

  “She tried to be transferred to a new room because of my nightmares. I’m pretty sure she hates me more than just a little.” I press the speed button and up my pace. “Any other suggestions?”

  “Sleep with your teacher.”

  She laughs at my expression. The same one I had when she told me a tutor who’s hot in bed is a great idea. I’m tempted to lean over and increase her speed just so she can’t keep talking.

  “I’m kidding,” she says, laughing again. “But you have to admit, being tutored by Marcus is better than sleeping with your instructor.” Especially since the guy is like fifty. I shudder at the thought.

  “Maybe I could study harder,” I suggest.

  “You’re already studying harder. How’s that going for you?”

  I pretend I didn’t hear her. “There must be someone else who can tutor me. What about the Chinese girl on our floor? What’s her name?”

  “Ann. And she’s poli-sci. So that would be a big no.”

  “There has to be someone who can....” Only the weak ask for help, Amber. Wasn’t that what Mom always said? The strong help the weak, not the other way around.

  “There isn’t anyone. Not unless your instructor can suggest someone.”

  Marcus selects a barbell and performs a combination of squat and overhead press. His shoulder muscles ripple under his gray T-shirt when he pushes the weight upward. The hem rises, revealing his taut stomach.

  “I’ll ask him.”

  She nods at Marcus. “Go now before he leaves.”

  I snort. “I meant my instructor. I’ll ask him if he can recommend somebody.”

  She lets out a disappointed huff. Before she can say anything, I ask, “So what happened with you and the guy you were dancing with?”

  “He asked for my phone number and I told him I have a boyfriend, and that was it.”

  You’re my forever. And I’ll love you in a way your boyfriend never could.

  I increase the treadmill speed, again, chasing away the words. “And he was fine with that?” Of course he was. He wasn’t Paul.

  “Sure, why wouldn’t he be?” She slows her treadmill. “Speaking of boyfriends. I need to call mine. He should be up by now.” She steps down. “I’ll see you back at the dorm.”

  “Okay.”

  As soon as she’s out of view, I increase the speed until I’m running at my previous pace. As long as I’m pushing myself this hard, the memories of last spring stay away.

  Sweat streams down my back and the gym spins around me. I stumble and catch myself in time to avoid a face-plant. I don’t stop. I can’t stop yet.

  I run past trees, the buds not fully formed. My bare feet slip on the muddy ground. Branches reach out to grab me.

  A hand touches my lower back and the ground stops moving under my feet. A subtle spicy scent embraces me. I’m safe. It’s not Paul.

  I snap back to the present, to the gym.

  “Fuck,” Marcus says, hand still on my back. “I didn’t hit a guy yesterday just so you could kill yourself on the treadmill.”

  I shake away my uneasy feeling and grab the treadmill side rails, steadying myself. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself. I was working out.”

  His eyebrows draw together. “Didn’t look like it from where I was standing.”

  My mouth flaps open and shut as Jordan’s suggestion that I could hire Marcus plays on Repeat in my head. “Would you tutor me in math?”

  Great. All I meant to do was change the topic. I hadn’t planned to actually bring up Jordan’s suggestion.

  Marcus stares at me as if I’d asked him if unicorns really do exist. Shocked and amused.

  I step off the treadmill and turn to leave.

  “How much?”

  I face him, again. “How much what?”

  “How much would you pay me?” His gaze doesn’t roam over my body this time. He’s watching my face, a dead serious glint in his eyes.

  I swallow back the fear that I’m making a mistake. “Twenty dollars an hour. But if I get an A in math by the end of the semester, I’ll give you a bonus thousand dollars.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Marcus

  I know I look like an idiot, staring at Kitten like she’s a winning lottery ticket. Is she really promising a thousand dollars if I help her get an A? And what are the odds I can do that? For all I know, she could be brain dead when it comes to math.

  But brain dead or not, she’s also offering to pay me hourly, and I’d rather tutor her than some dumbass jerk. Especially if I can convince her to let me show her that vectors aren’t the only things hot in the horizontal and vertical position.

  My junk twitches at that possibility, even as I recognize that was a really lame line. “When do you want to start?”

  “As soon as possible.”

  I’ve got nothing planned for the morning, and the sooner we begin the better. “How about we meet at the Marketplace in an hour?”

  She checks her watch. “That works.”

  “Bring your notes and book.”

  She nods and walks toward the locker rooms. I shake my head. Shit, what was I thinking? I need the money and Chase told me to get a tutoring gig. But did I agree to help her for the money, or was it because my dick gets tight whenever I’m near her?

  Realizing it doesn’t matter either way, I finish working out and have a quick shower before heading over to the Marketplace. Kitten’s already there when I arrive, scanning the food court, body tense.

  “Relax, Kitten. You’re way too tense. I’m not gonna bite.” Unless you want me to.

  She holds an edge of vulnerability that reminds me of Ryan. He used to have the same exhausted, haunted look about him. I want to ask who hurt her, but I get the feeling she won’t tell me.

  The protective feeling I experienced last night at the party, the one I’ve never felt for a girl before, stirs deep. I push it away. I don’t need this.

  “Would you stop calling me ‘Kitten’?” she says, tone tight.

  “Can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I have to call you something, and since you haven’t told me your name, ‘Kitten’ will have to do.”

  “My name’s Amber.”

  “Marcus.”

  “I know.” She bites her lower lip. I don’t think she even realizes how hot it is when she does that. It makes me want to gently guide her lip away from her teeth, run the tip of my tongue along it, then suck it into my mouth and see how she’ll respond.

  That’s what I want to do, but if she runs, and something tells me she will, there goes my
chance to earn some serious bucks.

  We order our coffees, which Kitten looks like she needs more than anything. Though from the amount of sugar and milk she pours into it, it’s clear coffee isn’t her drink of choice.

  I lead her to a table in the food court and sit. Compared to during the week, the place isn’t busy. Mostly students getting together to work on group projects, and young families hanging out after using the sport facilities.

  Again, Amber scans the area.

  “You looking for someone?” I ask.

  “No, it’s just....” The fingertips of her right hand tap against her thigh. “I mean no.” She sips her coffee. “By the way, thanks for helping with that guy last night.” The hand with the coffee in it shakes a little when she mentions him. “I told him I wasn’t interested but he wouldn’t listen.”

  “You know him?”

  “He told me he’s in my bio class. There’re so many people in it, I’ve never noticed him before.” Pain or fear, or both, flare in her eyes. Once again, she glances around.

  “Don’t worry about him. After last night, I doubt he’s gonna touch you or talk to you again. But if he does, just let me know, okay?”

  She nods, not looking too sure what to think. “What happened after I ran off?”

  My lips curl into a smirk. “I hit him and threatened him if he comes near you again.”

  She smiles, the movement small. Her body relaxes a little more, though there’s still an edge of wariness to her that she’s had since I first noticed her at Your Designs.

  “I wanted to make sure you were okay but couldn’t find you. Where’d ya go?”

  “I was there.” She removes her text and binder from her backpack, and opens the book to the chapter on algebraic equations and inequalities. “This is what we were covering, but I got an F on my test.” She looks like she’s going to puke. “I’m not sure I understood everything.”

  No shit.

  “Do you have your test?”

  “Yeah, sure.” She searches through her binder and hands me the booklet. Her right hand drops to her lap and she bounces her fingers against her thigh again.

  I flip through the pages and study her answers. I can feel the grand slip away. She got a few right, but she didn’t finish most of the test.

  “Why do you need the class?” If she’s this clueless about math, why the hell is she in the course?

  “I’m taking pre-veterinary sciences. It’s part of the required courses.” She lets out a long breath. “So, do you think you can help me?”

  No. I nod. “But it’s not gonna be easy.”

  “I’ll do whatever it takes to pass. This is important to me.” She smiles, but it gets lost somewhere between her mouth and her eyes.

  “Okay.” I rip a page out of her binder. She cringes but doesn’t say anything. “Did you know there’re three kinds of people in the world?” I smirk. “Those who can count and those who can’t.”

  This time the smile on her face is genuine and she chuckles. “And you’re planning to help me with math?”

  “Damn straight I am.”

  We spend the next hour going over what she’s covered so far in class. As far as I can tell, she’s not dumb. Math just isn’t her thing. But I will give it to her—she works hard to figure out what I’m showing her and asks lots of good questions.

  Two arms encircle my shoulders from behind, and a pair of cool lips kisses my neck. Even without Tammara saying anything, I recognize her slightly musky perfume.

  “Miss me, darling?” she purrs.

  Momentarily ignoring the equation I was explaining to Amber, I unhook myself from Tammara’s arms. She sits next to me and rests her hand on my thigh, marking her territory.

  “Math,” she says, taking note of the textbook between me and Amber. “How boring.” She inches her hand up my leg. “I can think of better ways to entertain you.” She doesn’t bother to acknowledge Amber. Everything’s a game for Tammara, and this time’s no exception.

  I remove her hand from my lap and put it on the table. “We’re busy.” I don’t want to be a jerk in front of Amber, but Tammara’s pissing me off. This is my fault. I should have had the balls to end things with her the other morning before I left her apartment.

  “That’s okay.” She glances at Amber, a sly smile edging on to her face. “I can wait. I have to study for my marketing exam.”

  Amber’s gaze jumps from Tammara to me and back again. Her fingers go back to tapping against her thigh. Mine itch to cross the space and cover her hand, stilling the movement. Tammara will see Amber’s actions as a sign of weakness.

  The protective urge surfaces, again. “We need to talk,” I tell Tammara.

  She stiffens for a brief moment before regaining her composure. The smile is back on her face but this time it holds a note of uncertainty. “Why don’t you come over to my place after you’re finished here? We can talk there.” From her silky voice, it’s clear what she hopes will happen, and she’s making it clear to Amber, too.

  Normally I wouldn’t care what a girl thinks, but Kitten isn’t any girl. “We need to talk now.” I say it more forcefully this time.

  “I-I should leave.” Amber reaches for her book and closes it.

  “Give me a moment...unless you really have to go.” I get the feeling she isn’t ready to quit studying yet. I’m certainly not.

  I stand. Tammara doesn’t move. She’s too busy glaring at Amber.

  “Now, Tammara.”

  Without looking at me, she gives a slight nod and follows me around the corner to a quiet spot near the wall. No one pays us any attention.

  She pouts. Some guys fall for it. I’m not one of them. As if sensing that, her pout vanishes. “You better not be planning to tell me that you want to remain friends.” Her heated tone could melt daggers into liquid metal.

  It’s hard to remain friends when you weren’t friends to begin with. I wisely keep that to myself. “You and I want different things, Tammara.”

  “Meaning you were interested in me when it was only sex. Is that what this is all about, Marcus? I want more and you’re only interested in getting laid?”

  Figuring it’s a rhetorical question, I don’t answer.

  “She’s not even your usual type,” she says, pointing out the obvious, even though she doesn’t know how right she is. My type usually doesn’t need any encouragement to drop their panties.

  “Keep her out of this.” My voice is dangerously low, the warning unmistakable. “I’m only tutoring her.”

  Tammara laughs bitterly “I know you better than that. You’re only tutoring her to get into her pants. That’s all you care about. Screw ’em and leave ’em. That’s your motto.” A sliver of hurt mingles with her words, but I can’t tell if it’s real or not.

  “At least I’m capable of caring about something,” I snap.

  Tammara jerks away as if I’d slapped her, and I instantly wish I could take the words back. That was pretty low, even for me.

  “Fuck you, asshole.” She narrows her eyes at me, then looks in the direction we came from. Before I can say anything, she storms off. Fortunately she leaves through the back exit, away from Amber.

  I return to the table. Kitten is busy working through a math question.

  “Sorry about that,” I say.

  “It’s okay.” She smiles softly and pushes the page she was working on toward me. “I figured I would try another question while you were gone.”

  I lean forward and catch the sweet scent of her strawberry shampoo. I breathe her in and check her answer. “Very good, Kitten. You got it.” I grin at her.

  She grins back. “You’re a great teacher.”

  I bite my tongue to keep from saying what else I’m good at teaching. I don’t want to destroy this easy rapport between u
s.

  “So what made you decide to become an engineer?” she asks.

  Since I don’t want to tell her about my pathetic excuse of a life, I say, “What do you get when you cross a mosquito and a mountain climber?”

  She frowns slightly, either confused at my avoidance of the question or because she’s trying to figure out the answer. She shrugs.

  “You can’t cross a vector with a scalar.”

  Amber groans then laughs. “Where did you learn all these lame jokes?”

  “My high school math teacher. It was the only way he could get the class to pay attention.” A trick my history teacher should have tried. I might have done better in the class if he had.

  At the sound of classical music coming from the floor, Amber reaches toward her backpack. The cuff of her hoodie sleeve slides up, revealing thick scars on her wrist. She tugs the cuff down and sits up, cell phone in hand. She checks it then drops it in her bag.

  All I can do is stare at her injured wrist, hidden under the fabric of her hoodie. She pulls her hand farther into her sleeve, making sure I can’t see even a fraction of the scars.

  “It’s not what you think,” she says, her voice low and cracked. “I didn’t try to kill myself.”

  How the hell could she end up with scars like that if she wasn’t attempting suicide? “What happened?”

  She fidgets with the cuff, eyes avoiding mine, then grabs her stuff from the table and shoves it in her bag. “I have to go.” Before I can say anything, she bolts.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Amber

  I smile and do a happy dance while seated on my desk chair. Thanks to Marcus’s tutoring session yesterday, I got another answer correct. The guy’s a genius.

  Someone knocks on the bedroom door. I open it.

  Jordan sails into the room and flops on my bed. “I need a break from studying. You wanna hit the mall with me? Maybe see a movie?”

  “Sure.” She’s not the only one who needs a break. I’ve been studying for four hours straight. My brain feels like it’s ready to explode. And since I expect Brittany to reappear at any moment, snarling at me in the way only Brittany can do, I’m ready to escape.