Tutoring the Bad Boy

Varsity Basketball, Freshman Year

A/N Well. It's been a while, hasn't it?

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*Kaitlyn MacDonald*

The week goes by quickly, with Drew coming over every day after his basketball workout for tutoring. On Tuesday, we study vocab for his English test on Thursday.

"If I learn all of these words, can I teach you some of my own?"

Wednesday is Analysis.

"Maybe we should be like Mean Girls and discover that our limits don't exist."

By Thursday I'm fed up.

We're supposed to be studying for German, but his innuendos finally drive me over the top.

"Hey, Kaitlyn. Do you want to hear a joke?"

"Can you just stop?" I slam my book shut and drop my pencil on the floor. "Please, for my sanity. I agreed to do this because I genuinely care about people and helping them to get good grades, not so that you could hit me with sexual innuendos every time you open your mouth. Now, would you like to go home and find a different tutor? Or will you shut up for once and let me do my job?" I'm breathing heavily by the end of my speech, as my voice had increased in volume for the duration.

Drew sits back with his mouth slightly open, seemingly stunned. After a few seconds, I roll my eyes and reach over to his face, pushing his chin up so that his mouth closes.

"You'll catch flies, McCarthy."

He blinks, and his demeanor changes. No longer does the suave, cocky jock sit beside me, but a slightly humbled boy. A boy I can easily see myself friends with.

"Now then," I say, clapping my hands together and picking back up my book and pencil. "Let's work on these grammar worksheets." He nods and picks his book up back as well, leaning back into the cushions as his eyebrows furrow in concentration.

I can't help but study his profile: the smooth curve of his lip, the slight 5 o'clock stubble on his chin, the spike of his dark brown hair, the way his long curved eyelashes flit about as his eyes move back and forth from his book and his worksheet. And those eyes... no wonder every girl in the school has a crush on him.

Everyone but you, Kaitlyn, the annoying voice in my head states. I shake my head and get to work.

We work in silence for a couple minutes until my phone rings.

"Excuse me," I say, and pick up my phone. It's Jordan calling.

What could he want?

"Hello?"

"Kaitlyn, I need you to come to the hospital." His breathing sounds labored, as if he's in severe pain.

"What? Why? What happened? Are you okay?" He's dying. He has cancer. He's been secretly pregnant for the last nine months and is now going into labor.

"Kaitlyn, calm down. I fell on my leg funny at workouts today and tore something in my knee. Coach took me to the hospital and now we're waiting for you to get here so we can go see a doctor." In the background I hear the quiet murmur of many voices, some consoling and soothing, others in pain.

"Jordan, that's awful," I say. "I'm on my way right now," I say, already slipping my shoes on and grabbing my coat.

"Wait!" He says, and I freeze in my tracks.

"What?"

"Drew is at the house, right?" I nod before I remember he can't see me.

"Yeah, so?"