6. Calista
SIX
CALISTA
L incoln was getting on my last nerve.
The first two sessions we had together, he was, what some would consider, fashionably late. Sure, it was irritating. We didn’t get through much of the content, but at least we got through something . At least, that’s what I had been telling myself to get past the overwhelming sense of dread.
One of his midterms was less than two weeks away, and I didn’t feel very confident about how Lincoln was going to perform.
We had barely scratched the surface of the preliminary material necessary for him to comprehend the rest of the unit.
At this point, I wasn’t even sure his average would improve by a single percentage.
Regardless of the slow progress, I did expect him to at least show up. And, at the bare minimum, not cancel on me at the last minute.
I had been sitting in the study room, working on a biochemistry reading, when my phone screen flashed.
Can’t make it. First match Friday.
You realized this 30 mins into our would-be tutoring session?
Annoyance rolled off me in waves. The gull of this guy.
The sheer ignorance. Minutes ticked by, and as expected, Lincoln didn’t grace me with a response.
He was probably too busy beating a punching bag with my face on it.
I let out a huff of air as I collected my things off the study room table.
I don’t know why I even bothered showing up.
He clearly didn’t.
Frustration pricked at my skin until I made it outside the library building.
The heavy metal doors banged shut, and I finally allowed myself to take in a deep breath.
Even though the sun was shining, it was frigid outside.
The crisp air dried out my throat, and I pulled my jacket closer as I began my hike through campus.
The heels of my boots clacked with every step I took back to the dorms. For some reason, the sound only egged me on, coerced me to confront Lincoln Pierce and his dismissive attitude.
He might not have cared if he didn’t pass Anatomy.
But he wasn’t the only person who was trying to benefit from this arrangement.
Without giving myself time to reconsider, I took a hard left down a path that would circle back to one of Fenton's many fitness facilities.
While campus wasn’t yet dusted with snow, the trees lining the concrete pathways were beginning to lose their leaves. Fall was my favorite season. Oversized sweaters and mini pumpkins. Sweet candles and cinnamon lattes. Everything about autumn was so… magical.
As I walked, I kicked a couple of stray leaves that had wandered onto the interlock walkway. Burnt reds and oranges contrasted against the green ivy that snaked across the stone buildings, refusing to give up their color .
On more than one of my walks through campus, I believed I had been transported to a posh college in the English countryside.
Victorian-influenced stone buildings that included intricate carvings and detailed facades with arched windows—and don’t even get me started on the lush gardens.
All in New York’s very own backyard. I fell in love with Fenton the moment I stepped foot onto campus during my first visit. And I knew my mom did, too.
As much as I wanted to enjoy the scenery, the mood I was in muddied the beauty around me. I focused on the reason why I was stomping in the opposite direction of my dorm building. If I was going to get Lincoln to get serious about tutoring, I couldn’t go in there playing nice.
Despite what Ella might have told me at that moment, I allowed myself to fester in negativity. Starting with a list of things I disliked about Lincoln Pierce in all his toxic glory.
Selfish.
Disrespectful.
Abrasive.
Rude.
Infuriatingly good-looking.
Side note: why were all the hottest men the biggest assholes? I was afraid that said more about me than it did about him.
I shook my head, reminding myself to stay focused.
I wasn’t going to allow Lincoln to waste my time.
If he wasn’t serious about this tutoring situation then I would find another way to get Professor Hamilton’s letter of recommendation.
Considering how high Hamilton’s expectations were, I was sure Lincoln wasn’t the only student doing poorly in one of his classes.
There had to be other Lincolns out there.
Other Lincolns that would be grateful for my help; that wouldn’t be grossly late to every session or—better yet—actually show up.
Whatever I was conjuring up in my head started to unravel as my destination came into view. A glaring issue staring me right in the face. How was I going to get in?
The doors to any of the athletic department buildings at Fenton were locked 24/7. Only staff and students who pertained to that department could enter the facilities with their swipe cards.
As luck would have it, footsteps rounded the corner.
I wasn’t surprised to see a broad man step underneath the awning that hung over the main doors to the building.
His hair was cut short to his head, the thick, coiled locks resembling storm clouds.
His football jacket was pulled taut over his broad shoulders, and a large duffle bag dangled by his side.
He paused when he reached the building doors, hands searching his pockets.
“Hey.” I stepped up beside him. “Sorry, but would you mind letting me in? I’m meant to meet someone, but in typical fashion, he isn’t answering his phone,” I said with a bashful smile. To help support my story, I flashed him my text conversation with Lincoln.
He removed an earphone and regarded the messages for a brief second.
“Lincoln, as in Lincoln Pierce?” He chuckled when he noted the name on the top of the screen. “Pierce has never been good at answering his phone.” A dimpled smile graced his features.
I couldn’t help but smile in return. This guy was all man, but the smile on his face held a boyish charm. “You know him well then.”
“As well as anyone around here,” he said. “Pierce is not much of a talker. ”
It was good to know I wasn’t the only one Lincoln decided to be closed off around.
With Harper, Ella, and I, there were no secrets.
The openness I held with them transferred to every other aspect of my life.
I forgot that not everyone followed the same philosophy.
Sure, I hadn’t known him for long, but Lincoln Pierce was far from an open book.
He flashed the student card that he fished out of his varsity jacket. “I’ll let you in. Their season is just starting, so he’s probably busy training.”
Triumph washed over me when the scanner beeped in approval, flashing a green light. He pried the door open and waved me in. “Ladies, first.”
“Thank you,” I said, grateful to get inside and out of the cold.
I shivered at the change in temperature. The boxing facility was busier than I expected it to be, and every inch of space was being utilized in some way.
It didn’t take long for my eyes to zone in on the reason I had marched over here in the first place.
Lincoln’s hefty frame was in the center of a boxing ring on the far left side of the room.
He was sporting black shorts that hung low on his trim waist. A matching pair of boxing gloves encased his hands.
At least he wasn’t lying.
There was someone in the ring with him. The guy in front of him hopped around. Each of his hands was suited in strike pads, but the goofy grin on his face made me think he wasn’t one of the trainers.
The guy who let me in followed my gaze to the center of the ring. “You guys friends or something?”
“Or something.” I turned to look at him. “I’m meant to be tutoring him. ”
He gave me a knowing look. “Let me guess, that’s why he’s avoiding you like the plague.”
“You know him better than you think.”
He let out a low chuckle. “I’ve always been pretty good at reading people.” He took a step toward the locker room before saying, “I’m Dante, by the way.”
“I’m Cali.”
“Nice to meet you, Cali,” Dante said, taking another backward step. “Good luck.”
I waited for Dante to disappear behind the locker room door before beelining for the boxing ring by the far left of the room. I reached the ropes and raised my voice just loud enough for Lincoln to hear me.
He took a swing just as I was starting to say, “You know, when you have to cancel on someone, the considerate thing to do is cancel before your plans start.”
Lincoln visibly tensed at the sound of my voice.
He brought his gloved hands down by his side, leaving him open to a swat in the arm from the other person in the ring.
The slap echoed throughout the room, but Lincoln’s dark gaze didn’t leave me.
The sweat on his body glistened in the brightly lit gymnasium.
The large, square windows on the wall next to the ring were doing him justice.
A bead of moisture emerged from his hairline and trailed its way down his chiseled cheekbone.
“It was a last-minute match.” His tone was low again. Like the first words he’d spoken to me in the study room.
I tried to stay focused on the fiery emotions I stroked on my way here. “I’m sure you didn’t just find out thirty minutes ago.”
If what Dante told me was correct, Lincoln knew this match was coming up. It would have been his first of the season. The match was scheduled. And he was well aware of that. He was simply using it as an excuse to get out of tutoring.
“Not to be that person, but I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that this …” I said, gesturing to the boxing ring with my finger, “…will no longer be your reality if you fail your finals.”
“Ahh,” the other person in the ring started, “so you’re the tutor.”
He bent low by the ropes, taking the training pad off his right hand. “I’m Drew. Lincoln’s right-hand man and manager extraordinaire.” He winked. “And you are?”
“Cali,” I said bluntly.
Drew extended his hand between the ropes, a wide grin on his face. “I’ve heard so much about you.”