by Judy Corry
"Are you going to grade me, too?" I asked, the whine in my tone coming out more prevalently than it probably should have.
But he shook his head and said, "No, nothing like that." He leaned over the table and pointed to the bullet points about a third of the way down the page.
He had really nice hands for a guy. Long fingers. His nails short and clean. And the veins crawling up from his knuckles and disappearing into the sleeves of his white shirt were very nice to look at, too.
Okay, focus, Ava.
"The first bullet point talks about how I expect you to come to our sessions willing to work hard and learn," Carter said. "Basically, to make the most of our time together, I need you to be cooperative. I don't like wasting people’s money, and I don't like having my time wasted, either."
He lifted his gaze to mine, as if waiting for a verbal agreement. But with him leaning forward with his gaze intent on me, I suddenly found it hard to breathe, because having his face only a foot and a half away was kind of overwhelming.
I'd thought his eyes were just plain aqua-blue before, but now I could see little flecks of turquoise in them, too.
"Do you think you can agree to that first expectation?" he prodded when I didn't say anything.
"Um, yes." I cleared my throat, hoping it would also help me clear my head of the impulse I had to agree to anything he said if he would promise to keep looking at me like that forever. "I can try to do that."
"Good."
If he noticed how much his close proximity dazzled me, he didn't show any signs of it.
His index finger pointed to the next bullet on the list. "The second item says that I expect you to be on time to our tutoring sessions. I have my own classes to study for, along with some other obligations. So if you're late, it just means we’ll have a shorter session because I won't be able to change my schedule around it."
"Sounds fair enough," I said.
Mack had warned me about how anal Carter was about his schedule.
His finger moved down to the next and final bullet point on the list. And when my gaze ran across the words he had typed there, I wondered if I was seeing things because I couldn't believe what I was reading.
I looked up at him with wide eyes. "You have a rule about not dating the people you tutor?"
He frowned momentarily as he read over the last rule, as if he couldn't remember what he'd written.
After a short pause, he pressed his lips together and tilted his head back up to look me in the eyes. "Ah yes, the most important rule of all."
"The most important rule?" I furrowed my brow, so confused why such a rule was even necessary in the first place. "Is this your way of saying you'd never deign to fraternize with people who need tutoring?"
Was his talk about understanding what it was like to struggle with something all just an act, and he was actually silently judging me for my stupidity?
Were people who admitted that they actually needed help somehow inferior to this "Mr. You Can't Date Me?"
And to think I'd just thought he was as dazzling as Edward Cullen a minute ago.
Ugh. Looks could be so deceiving sometimes.
The arrogance that it would take for someone to actually write that rule down was mind-boggling to me.
"I can see you think I'm a pompous jerk for even listing that last rule," he said, picking up on the shift in my mood. "But…" He paused, seeming to think. Then as if remembering something, he continued, "I can't tell you how many girls have pretended to be bad at math just to work one on one with me."
Seriously?
Sure, he was obviously hot. But who in their right mind would choose to do more math if they didn't have to?
Even I wasn't that dumb.
I shook my head. "Well, lucky for you and unluckily for me, I actually am terrible at math," I said. "I mean, they only let me come to this school if I promised to have tutoring right from the start."
"So…you're not going to try to date me?" He arched an eyebrow, as if he was actually worried I wanted to jump his bones.
And sure, maybe I'd gotten lost in his eyes for a few seconds here and there. But that was just because his eyes were interesting: light against his tan skin and full of secrets.
I definitely didn't want to drown in them or anything.
I sat up straighter, and in the most indifferent tone I could muster, I said, "I'm not interested in dating you. I'm just using you to keep my grades up."
"You're sure about that?" He narrowed his gaze, clearly not believing the words I'd just spoken. "Because we'll be spending a lot of time with each other and I don't want this to become an issue."
Okay, wow. He certainly had a high opinion of himself.
Did he really think he was so amazing that girls couldn't help but fawn all over him like they were Cinderella's stepsisters and he was the prince?
Sure, I'd been thinking that the definition of his forearms deserved to be immortalized in marble just like the David statues in the corner, but that was only because I appreciated art.
Instead of answering his question, I folded my arms across my chest and said, "Who's to say it shouldn't be the other way around?" I arched an eyebrow for effect. "Maybe I should be the one with the contract that says you aren't allowed to fall in love with me."
Take that, you egotistical narcissist.
He didn't respond at first—just stared at me unblinking, like he couldn't believe what I'd just said.
Then, after looking me up and down with an appraising eye that made me feel like he was seeing and weighing my every flaw, he leaned back against his cushioned seat and said, "I don't think that will be an issue."
Okay.
Ouch. Talk about a slap to the ego.
But I wasn’t about to let him know how much his words stung, so I uncapped my pen and said, "Well, it looks like we're on the same page with things then."
It took everything in me to keep my hand steady as I signed his stupid contract when all I wanted to do was climb under the table and hide.
After signing my name and taking a deep calming breath, I decided to drive the point home that I was not the one who'd be left wanting in this arrangement of ours. So, at the bottom of the contract, I added in purple ink the words:
I, Carter Hastings, vow that I won't fall in love with the beautiful and alluring Ava Cohen, even though she is a Goddess on earth. I will be on my best behavior during our tutoring sessions and not let her enchanting personality, charming wit, or captivating eyes distract me from doing my job.
And just below that, I drew a line where he could sign his name.
I slid the paper back to him. "I'm going to need you to sign my little addition," I said, capping my pen.
A half-smile formed on his lips as he read my amendment to his contract. But then he signed his name in a nice, flowing scrawl.
"Looks like we've come to an agreement," he said, tucking the contract back into the front folder of his notebook. "How about we get to those questions now."
9
Carter
"We missed you during lunch," Mack said, finding me in the hall as I walked toward Mrs. Johnson's room for my last class of the day. "Where were you?"
"I took Ava to The Italian Amigos."
"What?" Mack asked, his thick eyebrows knitting together. "And here I thought you said you weren't interested in the Cohen twins."
"I'm not."
He shot me a disbelieving look. "Then why take Ava to lunch?"
"We had a math assignment we needed to work on." An assignment that we'd only made a small dent in since we'd spent too much time chatting and going over my tutoring contract.
When I'd pulled out the contract for her to sign and she'd questioned me about my no-dating rule, I had to think fast for an excuse as to why that last rule was there in the first place.
My experience with my older brother Ian had come in handy as I'd played the part of a self-absorbed player who thought he was king of the world.
And from how
riled up Ava had gotten after I'd basically implied that I was up to my eyeballs in propositions from girls, I figured I'd played the part well enough.
Which was great. I hadn't wanted to waste time with the female population this year, anyway. So even though I was pretty sure Nash must have hacked into my computer and changed my contract as some sort of prank, he had actually done me a favor.
At least, I'd stopped any chance of Ava ever being interested in me romantically. And if she did what I suspected she might and tell all the other girls about how full of myself I'd been during our lunch, it wouldn't be long before I had my weekends all to myself.
"Since when do you work on math assignments during lunch?" Mack asked.
We met a roadblock in the hall where it came to an intersection. As students shuffled past us, most of their heads several inches below ours since we were so tall, I said, "Ever since I needed an excuse to avoid Sofia."
"Ah, gotcha," Mack said. "I guess I'd probably want to avoid that conversation too, if I were you."
"Hopefully, she got the message that she doesn't have to try to be my friend just because she feels guilty."
The roadblock full of beige and navy-blue jackets cleared so we continued toward the B hall.
Mrs. Johnson's classroom for Adult Roles was at the end of the hall. She taught all of the family and consumer science classes so her classroom block was one of the biggest, with the cooking and sewing rooms attached just off of her instruction room.
When Mack and I walked inside, there were already quite a few seniors sitting at their tables. Scarlett and Hunter sat at the table that was front and center—Scarlett sitting up straight with her notebook and pen ready like she couldn't wait to ace this class. She was my biggest competition for valedictorian, so her eagerness didn't surprise me at all. Hunter, on the other hand, was slouched on his desk, his tie already loose around his neck like he just couldn't wait to get the first day of classes over with.
Just behind them was Ava and her twin sister Elyse. I was pretty sure Elyse had been in my last class and knew she was the twin with her hair straight and down while Ava's was curled with the top half pulled back and pinned with a sparkly barrette.
When our gazes met, Ava leaned over to her sister to whisper something. From the annoyed expression on her face, I figured she was probably informing Elyse about the stupid contract Nash had messed with and warned her about my jackhole tendencies.
And as she eyed me, I just shot her a smile so she'd know I knew she was talking about me.
That was what conceited people did, right? Assume the world revolved around them.
Maybe I should thank Ava for spreading the good word.
Sometimes you have to act like a jerk to keep away from unwanted drama.
"Let's sit there," Mack said from beside me, bringing my attention back to him. He pointed to the table behind the twins.
"Sure," I said. I was about to take the seat behind Elyse when I noticed that Sofia and Nash were sitting at the table just to the left of it.
Yeah, I'm not going there.
Sofia was right next to the aisle and I wasn't about to leave myself open to any sort of interaction.
Before Mack could take the spot behind Ava, I asked him if we could switch places.
Mack shrugged before shuffling around me to get to his seat.
I set my backpack on the floor, and before I could even scoot my chair in under the table, Ava was twisting around in her seat and saying, "Couldn't stay away from me, could you?"
I maneuvered my chair in and leaned over my desk so our faces were only a foot apart, before sending her my best smoldering gaze and saying in a low voice, "Apparently, I have a weakness for goddesses."
When her cheeks glowed a nice shade of pink at my flirtatious comment, I couldn't help but shoot her a wink as well.
I expected her to turn around, but instead, she scooted her chair back until it rested against my table. And then, after shooting her gaze toward Sofia for a split second and then back at me again—in a way that told me she was trying to communicate something unspoken to me—she said, "Are we still on for after school?" She bit her lip and looked at me like I was a chocolate tuxedo cake and she was a chocoholic.
And I had to give it to her, the girl had the sexy pout down to an art.
If she hadn't been so annoyed at me during lunch, I'd almost believe she was interested in me.
Even though I knew she was only referring to the study session we'd already arranged to have in the library after school to finish our math assignment, I couldn't help but wonder for a crazy second what it would be like to do exactly what her body language was telling Sofia and everyone around us that we might be doing after school.
I looked at her pink lips. They were just the right size and shape for her face. And yeah, kissing them would probably be a great way to spend an afternoon.
But before I could wonder too much about how soft they'd feel pressed against mine, I noticed that we now had several heads turned in our direction, watching us. So I went along with the production Ava had decided we should both star in and said, "I'm counting down the minutes to our study session." I emphasized the word study to imply to all the onlookers that we would be doing anything but studying.
Ava's eyebrows shot up in surprise, like she couldn't believe I was actually going along with whatever she was doing. But she quickly regained composure again, and without missing a beat, she took my hand in hers and turned it so my palm faced the ceiling. With the same purple felt tip pen that she'd used on my contract earlier, she wrote the words, Back corner of library. 3:00 pm.
Using her other hand, she folded my fingers over my palm to show me and everyone around us that what she'd just written there was of utmost importance.
Then, with the confidence of someone who knew exactly how to get what she wanted where guys were concerned, she gave my hand a long, meaningful squeeze before saying, "Don't be late."
Even though I knew this was all just a show, my arm lit up with electricity that seemed to shoot all the way to my cold, dead heart.
When her amber eyes looked coyly up at me, I was almost convinced that this was real.
Almost.
But fake or not, I knew one thing: Ava Cohen was trouble.
And tutoring her this year might just be a lot more fun than I'd originally thought.
10
Carter
The next hour was spent listening to our teacher, Mrs. Johnson, as she went over the course curriculum. The class seemed interesting enough. The Adult Roles class was only offered to seniors at our school—a class that was supposed to prepare us to go out into the world and act like upstanding, responsible citizens.
I'd mostly signed up for this class because I wanted an easy A to buffer the rest of my intense schedule. But who knows, maybe learning more about building healthy romantic attachments, and the responsibility of raising children later, might come in handy a few years down the road when I would be settled into my future position at Hastings Industries and would have more time to think about these things.
After the final bell of the day rang, Ava turned around in her seat and slid a folded-up piece of lined paper across my table. "This is for you," she said with a wink. "Wait until I leave to read it."
Before I could even open the note, she left the room with her skirt swishing around her long legs.
When I looked sideways at Mack to see what he was thinking about Ava's shenanigans, he had a stunned expression on his face. "Now, what exactly did you two do at lunch?" The way he swallowed told me that he too had noticed the sexy way Ava's hips had swung as she'd walked away.
"We just ate enchiladas and worked on our assignment," I said, knowing I probably looked as stunned as he did.
"Well, either you’re remembering it very wrong, or she just interpreted things differently because that girl’s not being subtle at all."
"Yeah." I blinked as I flicked the edge of the note she'd given me. "I think she's just t
rying to help me out with Sofia. But who knows, maybe she's crazy."
I really didn't know the girl yet.
Mack chuckled. "Well, if that's the kind of crazy the new girls are bringing with them, sign me up."
I shook my head and decided I might as well satiate my curiosity by reading what she'd written in her note.
Inside, in the same flowing cursive that she'd used on my hand and on my contract, was a note that read:
To Mr. Haughty McHot-Hot,
Pretty sure Sofia was trying to burn a hole in the back of my head all throughout class with her death glare. So…you're welcome. We'll talk more about how I want you to return the favor in the library.
xoxo,
Ava
And in a smaller script with an arrow pointing to the word "haughty" was a note that said: Yes, I spelled that right.
Oh Ava. You’re going to be quite the handful, aren't you?
I made it to the library first.
Apparently, for all of Ava's antics in front of our class, she hadn't actually been as excited to meet up with me as she'd pretended.
While I waited for her to show up, I pulled out my AP Psychology textbook to get started on the reading assignment my teacher had given us for chapter one.
I had only made it through the first page before I noticed Ava appear at the entrance to the library with Nash at her side.
She laughed at something Nash said to her, and then after another short exchange where they smiled more than I ever could without it tiring my underused smile muscles, she handed him her phone to type what I assumed must be his phone number. And then she waved goodbye to him.
I set my psychology text aside and opened my math notebook to the page I'd written the answers to our interview questions earlier as she walked toward me in the back corner of the room.
"Looks like Nash didn't buy your little production from last period," I commented when she took her seat in the chair beside me at the small round table.
