The Vixen (College Life #2)

Vatica, the bold and the brave

Danny's P.O.V-

I take out my pencils, markers, highlighters, and paper from my bag, sitting them on the library table very neatly. There aren't many people here since it's early in the morning, which makes it nice just in case Vatica tries something, like trying to strangle me.

God, that girl.

I check the time on my phone, it's 9:55 in the morning and Vatica still isn't here. I told her 10 on Wednesday, I hope she comes because I'm up earlier than I usually am. Also, it would be a bit fucked up because she was the one that begged me to tutor her, I don't want to come to regret my decision.

A decision I didn't make lightly.

I went home after the proposition, laying on my bed eating gummy worms while I contemplated everything she said. Out of all the cons I could think of, nothing struck a cord.

My research is my life, and she's good for the money, I would be dumb to say no, anybody would.

I can't let my pride get in the way of my "groundbreaking research." I smiled just thinking of that, I'm surprised she remembered. She could barely remember who I was when she saw me in the lab for the first time, drenched and worn out.

Vatica was right when she said my project would be refunded on Monday. I kept all my old stuff from the lab, so all I need to do is move it back and begin my work. Cindi was angry when she found out, cursing the old gods and the new that I would get more money. She kept asking me how I found another funder, but I didn't tell her. If she knew she would find some way to mess it up.

I need to make Vatica the smartest person on the planet so her father can keep funding me.

Just the sound of it in my head...

"Danny?" I hear someone say. Looking up, Vatica Vixen stands in front of me. She wore a denim skirt and dark green crop top with the word Milano and the number 96 right under it with two golden feathers crowding around it. Two cups of coffee were in either hand, a crossbody bag slung over her shoulder. From the way her shoulder leans, it must be weighing on her.

I get up to help her out, taking the bag off her shoulder and sitting it on the chair.

"Thanks. This coffee is for you, I hope you like dark roast." She hands me the cup. I surprisingly take it.

"You didn't have to do that." I sit back down in my chair, putting the cream and sugar in as she takes her seat, getting comfortable.

"I know, but it's so early in the morning and I'm sure you're tired. Coffee is a need when I'm up this early."

"I hope you don't expect me to pay you back, it's a 6-dollar coffee."

She snickers, "I don't."

I watch and see the goosebumps rising on her arms. "Hey, maybe you should have picked different attire for the library," I suggest.

She looks questionably at her outfit, "What's wrong with it? Are you saying that I'm dressed slutty?"

I gasp, "No, of course-"

"Because that's the look I'm going for." I almost choke on air. Never have I ever heard someone say that.

"I was going to say because the library is notorious for being below zero, and you're showing a lot of skin so you may be cold. I can see that you're cold." I point to her arm.

Her lips purse, "I'm fine, thanks for being a worry bug."

"Worry bug?"

"Yeah, you know a person who worries too much, a worry bug. It's what my father says all the time." She said it so simply like I should know this and it shouldn't be explained to me.

"It's just something I wouldn't expect you to say."

She cocks her head to the side, brown eyes staring into my soul, "What did you expect?"

"You to threaten my life for commenting on your outfit," I say bluntly.

She waves a hand, "That was a one-time thing. Just don't get on my bad side anymore."

Got it.

"So, how is this going to work? Are you going to implant the information in my head and then I'm as smart as Einstein?"

I laugh at her naïveté, "If only. We will see what your grades are looking like now, what work you haven't done or need to do, and go from there. I'll help you study for your test and regular assignments." I explained to her.

Her smile drops, "I guess that sounds more realistic. Here are my classes and my current grades and assignments." She hands me some papers, as she stares at me with tense eyes, I flip through the papers. Her grades are not great, I don't know how she was able to stay at Stanford this long with these grades. Lots of C's and one D. I don't see a single A or B. All the classes that she's taking are some that I've taken already or during the summer or tutored some kids in that subject. Everything is doable.

Now, for her assignments, I could tell she tried to do some on her own, which lets me know that she's serious and wants to be better at school.

I like a student that can do for themselves.

"You have a few assignments in your history class that are due next week, and those are your current work that's due. We will work on those for this first tutoring session, then weave in everything else. Is that ok with you?" I ask her. As her tutor, I can't just go around declaring things, she also has to be on board. No adult wants to be bossed around by another adult.

"Yeah." Then, her face starts to flush. "I'm not the smartest person, academics are not my thing, I'm more of a fashion head." She stands up, showing her tiny skirt and shirt. If I leaned farther, I'm sure I can see an ass cheek.

"I can see that."

She sits back down, "I'm not dumb or anything, it's just my brain is slow to process things, I don't want you to get fed up with me and quit." Then, I see something I never thought I'd see from the Vixen, fumbling of the fingers and no self-confidence.

I give her a soft expression, "If I quit, then your father stops funding my project. It would be a loss for us both. Vatica, I've tutored over 100 students, some were easy to tutor, some tough, but you don't quit when things get hard."

"You believe that?"

"Yes."

"Alright." She claps her hands. "Let's get to work."

We spent almost three hours in the library, working on her history assignments. It was hard for her at first, since she didn't know half the stuff on the worksheet, the reason is that she never did the readings. I sat with her as she read, while I checked her work. There were a few questions she got wrong, but as we kept going, she was able to fix them on her own.

Right now, I'm texting my mother back while she reads a chapter on Henry the eighth. I hear her gasp out loud, "What's wrong?" I asked, putting down my phone.

"You won't believe this! Henry the eighth had 6 wives, one of them was his dead brother's wife. If I knew history had so much drama, I would have read about it a long time ago." I like how she's engaged in the work.

"Yeah, it can be messy. Wait until you get to modern English history, you'll have a field day with that." Her eyes light up at that. She checks the time on her watch. "It's getting late and I need to get home. Can we stop right here, or do you want to keep going?" I asked her.

"We can stop, my eyes are so tired they may fall out of my head." We start to pack up our things. I follow her out of the library into the burning sun.

"See you on Friday, right?"

"Yeah, and bring me another coffee, it was really good."

"Will do." We part ways.