LISA's POV
Eleven Years Ago
(THIS ENTIRE CHAPTER WILL BE A FLASHBACK)
"I don't need a babysitter."
"She's not a babysitter, Lisa." Professor Chou said patiently. "She's a tutor. One of our best, in fact. She's worked with multiple students whom were—"
"I don't need a tutor either." The thought of some know-it-all condescending to me every week made me want to crawl out of my skin. I'd made it this far on my own, hadn't I?
I didn't have any tutors growing up, and my teachers had been mediocre at best, destructive at worst. Yet here I was, sitting in a top economist's office at the prestigious YG University, less than a year away from receiving my double economics and business degree. I could practically taste the money and freedom already.
Professor Chou sighed. He was used to my stubbornness, but something in his tone had my gut tightening with unease.
"You do need one," he said, his voice gentle. "English literature and composition is a core requirement. You already failed it once, and it's only offered in the fall. If you fail it again this semester, you won't graduate."
My pulse spiked, but I kept my expression neutral. "I won't fail, I've learned from my mistakes."
I didn't understand why I had to take English in the first place. I was going into finance, not goddamn publishing. I was acing my economics classes, and that was what really mattered.
"Perhaps, but I'd rather not risk it." Professor Chou sighed again. "You have a brilliant mind, Lisa. I've never met anyone with such a natural gift for numbers, and I've been teaching for decades. But talent will only get you so far. A YGU degree opens doors, but to get it, you need to play by the rules. You want to make it big on Wall Street? You have to graduate first, and you can't do that if you insist on choosing your pride over your future."
My knuckles turned white around the armrests. Maybe it was the fear of losing when I was so close to the finish line, or maybe it was because Professor Chou was the only teacher who'd ever given a damn about me.
Whatever it was, it forced me to swallow my knee-jerk distaste over his suggestion and relent, at least partly, through gritted teeth.
"Fine, I'll meet with her once," I said. "But if I don't like her, I'm not meeting with her again."
———————
The following Monday, I showed up at YGU's main library, ready to get the meeting over with. It was nearly empty this early in the semester, so it shouldn't take long to find my tutor among the stacks.
Professor Chou had given us each other's contact information, and she'd left me with a voicemail that morning confirming our appointment.
"I'll be on the second floor wearing a yellow dress. See you there."
She didn't sound as chirpy as I'd feared. In fact, her voice was oddly soothing. Rich and creamy, with a gentle calm that wouldn't be out of place in a yoga studio or a therapist's office.
Still, I was predisposed to not like her. Professor Chou aside, I didn't have the best record with anyone in a teaching position.
My eyes landed on a flash of color near the window.
Yellow dress. Coffee and a familiar blue English comp textbook. That had to be Jennie, the girl who is my tutor.
