Tutoring the Alpha

Chapter Nineteen: Girl On Fire

*HAPPY LABOR DAY!!*

             “You - I - what?” I stammered, sliding off the bed as Mickey watched me silently, his blue eyes intent on my movements. Holy shit. He loves me? No he doesn’t. He’s confused. He...I...no. No, a werewolf doesn’t love me. No. Not Mickey Lafitte.

“I love you,” Mickey said again, rising to his feet and following me slowly as I hastily snatched up all of my stuff and hurried to cram my legs into my grimy jeans. Ugh. They were soaked through with vomit, and deciding they were better off in my backpack than on my body, I pulled on my cardigan and slung my backpack over one shoulder as I made my way towards the door, nearly half-naked.

“Benny! Did you hear me?” Mickey stepped in front of me, his blue eyes wide and his cheeks tinted with small circles of color as he watched me sidle past him, my head down and my steps quick.

“I-I’m sorry, I have to go. I’m sorry,” I mumbled, and after shrugging off Mickey’s hand on my shoulder, I left. 

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              After missing an entire day of classes thanks to my mental breakdown, I had a shit-ton of work to do the next few days. I’d missed eight classes yesterday, and spent the entire week and weekend making up work, emailing and meeting with my professors, and catching up on reading and homework. Although it was difficult to stay concentrated while locked up in my room, it was even harder for me to face Sam or Mickey while I worked, so I hardly left my bedroom all weekend. Mickey called constantly, and he’d even dropped by twice, but I’d instructed Jess and Josh to tell him I wasn’t home. As for Sam...well I didn’t see his face all weekend. I didn’t know if Mickey had told him about my hallucination of Sabrina, but if he had, Sam still didn’t care, and that almost hurt more than thinking Sabrina was alive.

            “Hey Benny, have you seen that red tank top thing that Jess likes to wear? She swears she put it in my bag but I can’t find it,” Josh asked me as I entered the kitchen that morning. I shook my head, shrugging apologetically as I poured myself some coffee and rubbed a hand over my face. I’d been keeping myself preoccupied with schoolwork so that I wouldn’t have to think about Mickey, but now that I was headed back to campus, I knew there was no way I would be able to avoid him. I was still his tutor, for crying out loud! Jamming my earbuds in, I turned up the volume as Ronnie Radke’s achingly familiar voice bled out into my ears, and I hopped in to my Jeep with a muffled groan. My entire body ached like I’d run ten miles the day before, and as I started the car up and pushed the pedal, I felt my muscles scream in protest. Ugh, I thought as I dreaded going to school for the first time in a long time.

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              If possible, seeing Sam’s face when I walked into our Creative Writing class was worse than not seeing him for over a week. His usually warm brown eyes flickered past me from behind his glasses, not even focusing on my face before the guy next to him slapped him on the back and yelled something in his ear. I recognized Drew seated on the other side of Sam, but even he didn’t look my way as I skirted past them to take a seat in the back of the room. My eyes felt crusty and stung from unshed tears, but I ducked my head and tried to ignore the way the people around me quieted down once I sat near them. The dreadful hour-long class dragged on forever, but I passed the time by listening to music inconspicuously and shooting glances at Sam. He looked good; boisterous, confident, strong. His usually shrimpy arms were gaining muscle, and he’d cut his wavy hair into a short crop that more matched the other guys on the team.