Page 11 of I Don't Need Your Romance

I don’t say anything, just play with the pen in my hand.

She nods once, turns around, and walks out of my room. “Don’t forget to eat dinner at six.” She shuts the door.

Doubt I’ll go. I’m not really hungry. Maybe I’ll grab something from the kitchen here, like a banana or whatever.

I spend about another hour on homework before resuming my drawing of the landscape outside. Mom doesn’t pop into my room and I don’t see her for the rest of the night. She doesn’t even wish me good night. I wouldn’t want her to, really, but the fact that she doesn’t…

Shoving that away, I climb into bed and try to go to sleep despite all the stormy thoughts on my mind.

***

My tutor is sitting at the same table in the library we sat at yesterday. She’s reading a book, a different one from yesterday, I think.

I’m not late—actually, I’m a few minutes early. Did she come here right after class and has been reading since? What does she see in all those books, anyway? They’re not real.

I drop down across from her. She doesn’t realize I’m here. Not even when several minutes go by. I take out my tablet and continue the drawing I started last night. This one is a cartoon I was just having fun with.

It takes another two minutes before she lifts her eyes from the book. They take in the guy in a leather jacket instead of his school blazer sitting across from her.

“Oh! Hi,” she greets. Her cheeks are a little red. “Were you here long?”

I shrug. “Maybe ten minutes.”

Her cheeks redden even more. It’s kind of cute. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone blush that hard.

“Sorry. I was caught up in my book.” She puts her bookmark in place before carefully, like it means the world to her, closes the book and slides it into her backpack. She reaches for her math textbook and flips to the correct page.

“Did you complete the math problems last night?”

I shrug again. “Nah.”

“Look, I know you don’t want a tutor, but your mom tasked me to help you catch up—”

“I don’t want to talk about Beatrice.”

Her mouth snaps shut. “Fine, but do you care about your grades at all? How are you going to pass your junior year?”

I bend close to her and she shrinks back a bit. “Why do you care?”

“Because I’m your tutor.”

I scoff. “How much is she paying you?”

“Paying me? You think I’m being paid to tutor students?”

I shrug again.

She crosses her arms over her chest. “For your information, I tutor for free.”

“Because it makes you feel good about yourself?”

“No. Because I want to help people.”

I scoff.

“What?” she demands.

“No one is that noble.”