After Math(2)

Tina is not the typical math student. She straddles both the demanding academic world and a social life. Parties included. For some reason she seems intent on dragging me from my comfortable hovel.

“Tina, we’ve discussed this before—”

“You don’t date. You don’t go to parties. Yeah, I know, I know,” she grumbles.

I frown. “You don’t ask anyone else from the math department to go. Why me?”

“Don’t you see that you have so much more potential than spending all of your time studying?”

“But I—”

Her face lowers close to mine. “Look, Scarlett. Everyone knows you’re a brilliant mathematics student. But it doesn’t mean you can’t have some fun. Just once.” Her eyes plead with mine. “You don’t have to say yes or no. Just think about it. Okay?” She gives me an exaggerated pouty face.

I laugh, shaking my head, my ponytail brushing my back. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And that’s why you love me.”

I laugh again and see Tucker at a table twenty feet away. He’s sitting with several soccer players and their groupies. Two of the girls openly flirt and Tucker flashes them his cocky grin.

I’ve paid little attention to him before, other than casually observing his self-destructive behavior. Rumor has it he’s on academic, as well as behavioral, probation. Tucker might be Southern University’s soccer superstar, but he’s close to burning out at the pace he’s keeping. Watching him now, I know that people like him bring this upon themselves. Tucker Price has been given a gift I’d kill for—a full-ride scholarship—but he chooses to throw it away so he can party and screw.

He catches me watching him, and I freeze, waiting for the look of derision that’s sure to come. I know that my own look of disgust isn’t what he’s used to seeing. Instead, his face loses all expression before his arrogant grin is plastered back on his face, like he’s just taken a stage break and he’s jumping back into a performance.

Tina stands to leave, noticing that something has caught my attention. She grins when she sees who it is. “There may be hope for you yet.”

“What? No. Way.”

“I heard he almost got arrested last weekend for disturbing the peace, but the policeman turned out to be a huge soccer fan and let him off with a warning.”

I throw my trash away, but Tucker’s face haunts me while I head to the math lab for our afternoon shift, dodging the raindrops that fall as I walk across campus.

As I take my regular seat, the rain continues, heavy drops pounding the window next to me. The January afternoon perfectly reflects my mood when a few hours later, Tucker stands in the doorway of the lab, looking around. His gaze stops, and he moves toward me.

What is Tucker Price doing here?

The room isn’t that large, enough room for four tables where tutors can work with a student. Old office chairs, the fabric on the seats torn and faded, line the walls. There’s no one waiting so Tucker slides into the chair on the opposite side of my table, and lifts an eyebrow with an amused grin. “You’re in my Western civ class.”

My face burns at the reminder, and I wait for him to call me out for staring at him at lunch. Although why he’d care what I think is beyond me.

He watches me in confusion. “So you teach math?”

“Tutor.” The word catches in my throat. “I tutor in math.”

I want to scream. I want to hide in a corner. Working in the math lab is perfect for my social anxiety. While my reaction to awkward social situations has eased quite a bit since I’ve moved away from my dysfunctional family, it’s still present, even in its milder form. The math lab is one-on-one and a more controlled situation, but my run-in—literally—with Tucker earlier is pushing all my trigger buttons.

He leans forward, resting his hand on the table, and looking around before his eyes land on mine. “I need help with algebra.”

“Then you’ve come to the right place.” I search the room to see who’s available. Mark is with a pretty freshman and from the way he’s attempting to flirt, I can see they will be a while. But Tina is not only free but practically salivating at the sight of Tucker. I point toward her. “Tina will help you. Right over there.”

His forehead wrinkles. “Why can’t you do it?”

My mouth parts and a whoosh of air escapes. “I usually work with students in more advanced courses,” I say, flustered. Why would he care if I tutored him or not?

All expression leaves his face. “Are you calling me stupid, Scarlett?”

“I…no…that’s not…” How does he know my name?