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She rolls her eyes at me in annoyance. “Class?”

“I might need to borrow your notes and class copies.” My hand grips the back of my neck and rubs. “I misplaced mine.”

Her eyes soften. “That’s fine.” She grabs an extra binder out of her backpack and slides it across the table. “Here. You can have this one. There’s colored tabs inside that will separate your classes. Keeping everything in one place will help.”

“Thanks.” I grab the binder and place it in my backpack. My cheeks heat at the intimacy of her seeing me at my most vulnerable state. Not many people see the real me. The me whodoesn’t play off everything as a joke. “I don’t mean to be this way.”

Liza reaches across the table and rubs my hand. “It’s okay. We all need a little help sometimes, but you’re going to need to work hard. Are you an art major, now?"

I chuckle. "No. Coach changed my classes around to give me a better chance to improve my GPA."

I roll my eyes and huff in annoyance. "So, he thinks art is the easy way out? He sounds like he's never stepped foot in an art class." She crosses her arms over her chest and taps her foot against the floor. "Art takes focus, precision, concentration, and—"

I cut her off, "I believe you."

She smiles and loosens her grip on her chest to relax. "I guess we should get started."

We spend the rest of our session reviewing week one notes and making flashcards of the important art eras our professor went over in class. Liza is in the same class, but a different time and day. At the end of the session, I realize the major problems I have on my hands.

My tutor is smoking hot, and I haven’t been able to get her off my mind for the past year.

She’s my tutor. Which means she’s off limits.

She’s areallygood tutor, and I can’t risk messing this up.

14

Liza

“Unbelievable!” I shout into my dorm room and slam the door behind me. I must have scared Emberly out of her room because she pops her head out her door and dashes to me.

“What’s wrong?” She connects her fingers together and rocks back and forth.

“Long story. Take a seat, girly pop.” I gesture for her to join me on our couch in the shared living space. It’s seen better days, full of creases and cracks. The cushions are worn, and both of us sink when we sit, but it’s really comfy. Emberly tucks her feet under her and puts her arm across the back of the couch, giving me her full attention.

“Ugh, today was my first tutoring session,” I say, running my hands down the front of my face.

“Was your student the worst?”

“Worse than you could imagine.” I rest the side of my face on the cushion and face my roommate. “He’s tall, muscular, and easy on the eyes.”

“That’s a bad thing?”

“His name is Hartley Knox,” I groan.

That peaks her attention. “Hartley, Hartley, Hartley. The quintessential lover boy who loves to lay it on thick?”

“That’s the one.” I let out a defeated breath.

“He seemed to really like you, Liza.” She places her hand on my thigh for support.