“You don’t even know me.”
Seriousness creeps into his eyes. “I think I know you better than you think.”
We walk in silence for several steps, and I know that Tucker’s confession should scare me and on some level it does, but mostly it fills me with wonder. For twenty years, I’ve kept myself, the real me, hidden from everyone. Even Caroline who knows me better than anyone doesn’t see it all. Could someone really see past the walls I put up and see me?
“And how does someone become an analyst for the CIA?”
“A minimum of a bachelor’s degree, although a master’s degree would help. I’m going to apply my senior year and see if they accept me without one. I’m not sure I can afford the tuition for a master’s. I’ve got a 4.0. I’m preparing for the GRE. My English and writing skills are strong, and I’m semi-fluent in Arabic. I’m a strong candidate on paper.”
“Why do I sense a but in there?”
I take a deep breath. “Oral communication is important.”
“Oh.” He pauses. “You can do it, Scarlett. You’ll be fine.”
I wish I were so sure.
We’ve already circled the track once, and Tucker is still walking at a brisk pace. “One more time around,” he says.
“And what about you? What do you plan to do with a history major?”
His mouth twists to the side. “Honestly? I have no idea.”
“Then why major in it?”
He laughs. “First of all, unlike you, not everyone in college is hyper-focused on their career plans. But you might find it hard to believe I’m not one of those students.” He winks. “I’m majoring in history because the major I want wasn’t an option.”
“And what do you want to major in?”
His face is devoid of emotion as he studies me. I can see he’s trying to decide whether he can trust me. “Physical education.”
I shake my head. “I don’t understand. It seems like the perfect fit.”
“My parents have very definite ideas about my career path, and my major has nothing to do with that.”
“You mean soccer?”
He takes a deep breath and nods. “I’m good, and I have a shot at the pros.”
“But you don’t want that?”
“I don’t know what I want.”
“I don’t believe that.”
He shoots me an odd look but doesn’t answer.
“Why can’t you major in physical education?”
“If I go pro, and I’m successful, I can’t go back and teach kids P.E.”
“Why not?”
“Can you imagine David Beckham teaching high school students?”
“Did you seriously just equate yourself to David Beckham?”
Tucker bursts out laughing. “Where the hell have you been hiding?”
“Living in Shelbyville, Tennessee.”
His eyes widen in surprise at my revelation. I figure if I insulted him, the least I can do is give him something from my past.
“It seems to me that you’re pinning a lot on a dream that isn’t even yours.”
He shrugs.
We walk in silence, but it’s not uncomfortable, despite how our conversation ended. When we’re about to reach our starting point, Tucker points to it. “We’re about to start jogging. We’ll go halfway around, then walk, then jog halfway, then walk. Then we’ll see how you’re doing.”
“Okay.”
“I’m going to be watching you and checking your form so you can correct any bad habits before they start.”
We start to jog and Tucker keeps his attention on me. “Eyes ahead, Scarlett. Don’t look down. Your shoulders are too tense. Let them relax.”
“That’s a lot to think about while I’m running.”
“I thought you like to think.”
“Not while I’m running.” I puff out.
He laughs. “We’re just getting warmed up.”
We run several strides.
“Your arms are good, but don’t clench your fists.”
We reach the halfway mark, and Tucker slows to a fast walk.
“Am I this bossy when I tutor you?” I wheeze.
“No. I’m just naturally bossy, and you’re naturally nice. We’re a good balance.”
“Lucky for you,” I grumble.
He laughs. “I totally got the better end of the deal.”
We go around the track three more times, the last round, he has me run at quarter lengths. Tucker has watched my pace, slowing down to make sure I’m not too winded, then picking it up when I caught my breath. I’m tired, but I don’t feel like I’m about to pass out on the side of the track. We slow to a walk that’s not as brisk.