No matter how gorgeous the man is, we can’t just sit here and stare at each other for the next hour, so I mentally shake my head and redirect my brain to remember that I’m working. I’m a tutor, and he’s a student. I need to completely disregard the fact that I fell for him, and he crushed my naive little heart into a million pieces. None of that matters right now. In fact, he’s probably been with 100 women between then and now. He might not even remember me. Yep, that’s it. I need to create some distance. I need to treat him like any other student who’scome to me for tutoring, because that’s exactly what he is: one of the 2,361 students who seek academic services each year. The fact that he looks shockingly like the prince in one of Iris’s books is irrelevant. But to be clear, he looks like the dashing prince after the villain stabs him and he dies and the princess’s kiss brings him back to life. Because Van’s not a beast. He’s a prince. But he’s not my prince, even if that story is my favorite.
I’m no princess; I’m a librarian.
Get yourself together, Josie,I admonish, straightening my glasses and going into work mode.
“Like I said, I just received the email, so I don’t have much background. Let’s start with your schedule. What courses are you taking this semester?” I know that information is in the email Dr. Ambrose sent, but seeing Van again has my brain a little scrambled.
“I have five classes, but I’m doing okay in Stats. The other ones are Medieval History, Intro to Philosophy, Feminist Studies, and Contemporary Lit.”
I jot them down as he ticks them off, running his hand through his hair. He used to do that even when it was much shorter. It’s a tell that he’s nervous or unsure, which is no surprise. Tutoring often makes people uneasy, and it’s my job to uncover what their strengths are and how best to overcome their struggles. But it’s also my job to make them feel at ease, so I paste a smile on my face and aim for warmth. “Ok, which of the courses has brought you here tonight?”
He huffs out a laugh. “Wow, they really didn’t give you much, huh? I’m here for four of them, Jos. I’m on the brink of failing two of them, and the other two aren’t much better.”
I inwardly wince when he calls me Jos. I hate when anyone shortens my name. I mean, it’s already shortened, how short does it have to get? Van was the only exception to my rule. Somehow, the extreme abbreviation always sounded sweet whenhe said it. Now, it just grates. But beyond my annoyance, I hear what he’s saying, and it sounds like this semester has been a struggle so far.
“You’re really loaded up on humanities, huh? You’re more of a math and science guy, I take it?”
“Not really,” he says, shaking his head. “But Pete is, so that helps.”
“Okay, well, it’s good to know we have four different types of content to cover. We’ll have to take a look at your syllabi and see when you have upcoming assessments. Do you have your course paperwork handy?”
“Paperwork?”
“Yes, of course. There should be digital copies of each syllabus in your online portal. You can forward those to me,” I say, scribblingneed syllabiin my notebook. “If I am going to tutor you, I need to know when your papers are due, or if you have upcoming tests or quizzes.” My smile is pleasant, my tone professional and polite.
But Van just looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.
6
Van
If I didn’t know better, I’d swear Josie doesn’t recognize me. It’s bizarre. She’s acting like we’re total strangers, and yet we know each other well. Or at least, we used to. Hell, I know the sounds she makes when she’s falling off the edge into an orgasm, but right now it’s like she’s never seen me before. She’s making eye contact only when necessary and paying a lot more attention to the words she’s jotted in her notebook than she is to me.
It’s so damn awkward, I have no clue how we’re going to get through the next five minutes, let alone the rest of the semester. Josie has book smarts, no doubt, and I sure as hell don’t. But I’m people smart. I’m usually really good at making people feel relaxed and at navigating uncomfortable situations. And okay, I failed spectacularly at both of those when shit hit the fan with Josie and me a couple years back. But I’ve learned a lot since then, thankfully.
I take a breath and offer half a smile. My dimple used to make her weak in the knees, and I’m totally not above exploiting that fact. “Josie,” I begin, my voice soft, my posture relaxed. It’s like I’m dealing with a wounded animal, and in a way, I am. I hurt Josie deeply, and I’ve never regretted anything more in mylife. It’s gotta be shitty for her to be in this position of having to help me, so before we go any further, I know I need to apologize. Or, at least start to.
She looks up at me, hesitant and maybe a little cautious. Her eyes are luminous—so full and bright. I get a little lost in them, and before I can pull myself out and say what needs to be said, the doors open with a slam and a crew of about eight or ten guys strolls in. Of course, they pile their stuff onto the open table next to us and start dragging chairs over, laughing and talking the whole time. I recognize a couple of the guys from the baseball team, but I don’t dare say anything. It’s not that I’m embarrassed to be seen with my tutor; I know anybody looking on would just see two people studying. It’s more the fact that now they’re here, having a conversation with Josie is going to be all but impossible.
Proving my theory right, she pulls back a little, adjusts her already perfectly straight glasses, and starts typing on her laptop.
I stare at the book I pulled out of my backpack. It probably looks like I’m reading, but I have no clue what’s on the page in front of me.
Josie shuffles some papers around, clicks a few buttons on her laptop and peers over at me. “You have a test in Philosophy tomorrow? Let’s start there. It looks like you should be on chapter six?”
“Sounds good,” I lie. It sounds boring as hell. Frustrating, too, but what choice do I have? Before we get started, though, I need to say something. “Jos, look, I know we need to get started, but?—”
“We do need to get started,” she says, interrupting me. “Do you have notes from the last lecture? Or the assigned reading?”
“No, I record all the lectures, but I haven’t listened to yesterday’s yet. And we have reading due for tomorrow, but Ididn’t get to that yet, either.” It sucks, but it’s the truth. To her credit, there’s no judgment on Josie’s face.
“Let’s do this. You can listen to the lecture and take notes while I read over the chapter. It’s been a while since I studied this stuff and I always confuse Bentham and Mill.”
I nod, like I get those two confused as well, even though I have no clue who the hell they are. She tears a sheet from her notebook and hands it to me. There are boxes on it and they’re all labeled, but I’m not sure what she wants me to do with it.
“Feel free to take notes on that if it helps. I find it keeps me organized. But if you have a system, that’s?—”
I stop her there. I don’t have a system. If I did, I wouldn’t be here. “This is great, thanks. And, hey, if you’re going to read over the chapter, could you record it?”
