Chapter 4
Chapter Four
When Mrs. McGinley hands back our quiz on the invention of the steam engine, “SEE ME” is written across the top, next to my perfect score.
Frowning, I scan the front and back of the page, but I didn’t make any mistakes.
We’re barely a month into the new school year.
Did I already manage to screw something up?
Though I know Mrs. McGinley from Model UN club last year and from Theo’s stories, that doesn’t help me figure out what she might want.
When the bell rings, I hurry to the front of the room, where Mrs. McGinley is erasing her whiteboard.
“You wanted to see me?” I ask while the other students file into the noisy hallway, a few of them not shy about throwing me curious looks over their shoulders.
Mrs. McGinley sets the eraser down. “The tutoring center is looking for a couple of peer helpers. Are you interested?”
Relief that I’m not in trouble ebbs inside me. Wait, does she think I’d make a good tutor? I adjust the strap of my backpack. “Um, maybe? ”
She uncaps the black whiteboard pen. “They pay twenty dollars an hour. It’s on Wednesday afternoons and Saturday mornings.”
This would be tough with my tight schedule, but I’m intrigued. “Thank you for thinking of me.”
She gives me a rare smile. “You’re welcome.”
I hurry out of her classroom and beeline to my next class, replaying the conversation. The tutoring center is managed by the athletic department. Theo used it last year for help with AP Bio. Though really, I think he milked his “need” in order to get tutored by Shannon Green.
I’m no Shannon Green, but the thought of sitting next to some hulking athlete who cracks dumb jokes and smells like the locker room isn’t exactly motivating. Though twenty bucks an hour sure is. I make a lot less than that babysitting.
At lunch, I beg Wren to visit the athletic department with me instead of flirting with her current cowboy crush at the student store.
“Why?” she whines.
“Safety in numbers,” I tell her, practically dragging her down the hall.
Outside, the autumn air bites my cheeks, but the weak sun feels good on my face.
When I explain our purpose, her bright blue eyes narrow. “I thought you hated jocks.”
“I don’t hate them.” I push open the metal door.
From behind the secretary’s desk, a woman glances up from her computer. “Here about the tutoring center jobs?”
Jeez, is it that obvious I don’t belong here? “Uh, yes.”
The woman’s mouth curves into a smile and her eyes squint but there’s little warmth in her expression. She opens a drawer and slides a small stack of paper stapled together at the corner across her desk. “Go ahead and fill this out.”
I pick it up and give each page a quick scan. It’s way too comprehensive for me to do in the remaining fifteen minutes of lunch, plus I need Dad’s signature. I’m about to thank the secretary and head for the door when Wren sucks in a breath.
The secretary has returned to her typing, so I follow Wren’s gaze to the offices behind her. William Hayes is stepping out of one of them.
“Thanks, Coach,” William says with a tight nod, then turns away.
Before I can scurry off, his dark blue eyes zero in on me, sending a cold flush over my skin.
Combined with the way his lips twitch with the hint of a smile, it’s like being pulled into a vortex.
Even though I know I should look away, I can’t.
Then he spins in the opposite direction and pushes out the door.
I blink at the beige walls and the beige secretary desk, my face flushing and my lungs rattling inside my chest. It’s not like I haven’t seen William around these past few weeks.
But we haven’t talked since that first morning.
Throwing that winning touchdown pass at our first game of the season has transformed him from the shy outsider he was then to a star already burning into the next galaxy.
I don’t think I’ve seen him alone—not in the halls, not at lunch, not after school.
And Tori Crenshaw’s rarely five feet away from him. Ugh. Doesn’t he see how fake she is? How shallow?
Wren links arms with me and steers us back to the courtyard. “Holy freaking hell,” Wren whispers. “He’s even hotter in person.”
“Who?” I say to stall.
“You know who that was, right?”
I slip my arm free and pause so I can carefully slide the application into my backpack. “Sure. He and Theo are friends.”
Her eyes widen. “Do you guys ever hang out?”
I laugh. “Why would I want to hang out with Theo or any of his kind?”
She snorts. “You’re gonna be tutoring them if you take that job. Ooh, do you think William needs tutoring? Maybe I should apply. ”
“You giving up cowboys for jocks?”
She scoffs. “A hot stud is a hot stud. I’m nondenominational that way.”
I roll my eyes, but my tummy betrays me with an annoying flutter. “Come on.”
Saturday morning, I beg Theo for a ride since Dad’s not up yet. The Falcons won again last night, and I know he was out celebrating till curfew because I heard him and Dad talking. I’m content to ride to school in silence, but Theo has other ideas.
“Morgan tried to sneak out last night,” he says.
“What?”
“After Dad went back to The Limelight and I went to bed, I heard the screen door.”
“Did you stop her?”
“Yeah.” Theo turns left, downshifting before heading up the hill.
“What did she say?”
“That I was a buzz kill and an overprotective troll.”
“Where was she going?”
He shakes his head. Our younger sister has been testing boundaries since she was five. It might be inspiring if it wasn’t so exhausting.
“I’ll talk to her,” I say as Theo pulls up in the school’s turnaround.
“Please. ‘Cause she’s not listening to me. It’s not safe for her to be out in the middle of the night, you feel me?”
“Totally.” I jump out and head for the library.
I’m early, so I check in with Mrs. Hackney, the PE teacher who runs the tutoring program, then go to my table and set up my extra pencils, laptop, and place my water bottle on the floor next to my chair.
Two other tables have been cleared for tutoring—one for math and another for Spanish but I’m the first person here.
I’m about to pull up the textbooks online when a figure darkens the library doorway.
It’s William. He’s partially in shadow, but his jaw looks tense even from here. He’s wearing a Falcons Football hat, a faded blue T-shirt, and jeans that fit so perfectly—loose and snug in exactly the right places—I have to bite back my groan.
I look away before he can catch me staring, but that annoying flutter is already working up my chest.
“Morning, William,” Mrs. Hackney says in her brisk tone. She offers him the sign in sheet.
“Hi,” William replies, his head dipped low as he signs in, like he’s trying not to be noticed.
Fat chance. It’s impossible not to drink in his broad shoulders and that chiseled jawline.
He’s not as tanned as he should be given how much time the football team spends outside.
It’s the helmet and all the gear, just like with Theo.
His forearms and calves are browned while his chest and knees are a pasty white.
Something I make sure to tease him about.
Mrs. Hackney points to my table, and my heart stops.
One of William’s eyebrows dips when he sees me sitting here.
Mrs. Hackney says something to him, and he gives her a quick nod, then continues to my table.
I stare up at him, but the dark look in his eyes sends a chill of apprehension down my spine. Is he angry he has to be here? Embarrassed? Does he have something against me ?
Wren’s comment bounces through my thoughts. Gawd, does he think I’m here as an excuse to spend time with him?
William pulls out a chair and sets his backpack on the floor. “How does this…work?”
I clasp my hands on the table in front of me. “What are you struggling with? ”
“I’m not—” He stops himself, grimacing. “I didn’t do so well on the unit test.”
“You can do corrections,” I say.
“Yeah, that’s what the teacher said.”
“Do you want to work on that?”
“I don’t know.” It comes out heated—even defensive. He grimaces again.
I wait, my pulse tapping into my throat. He’s like a skittish colt, ready to flee at the first hint of discomfort.
William reaches down into his backpack and pulls out his school-issued laptop. He logs in and clicks to an open tab. His face is still scrunched tight in a scowl. He gives me a quick glance, his dark eyes accusing, like he doesn’t want to trust me.
I don’t know what his issue is, but I try not to sneer back. Are we just going to dance around him actually getting the help he needs all morning or can we get cracking?
Finally, he turns back to his screen and sighs, then turns the laptop toward me.
I pull it a little closer, then click through his answers to the history exam, trying not to wince. He missed over half of the questions.
“Do you have the form pulled up?” I ask. Though I’ve never done corrections, I remember from the syllabus that there’s a template stored on the main assignments page.
“What form?”
I navigate to the class page and click it open. “This one.”
William is silent.
“We’ll go through each question you missed.” I point out the other info required on the form but it just makes William’s scowl darken.
He adjusts his hat. “How long is that gonna take?”
I could fire back a snarky remark about how sitting around talking about it certainly isn’t speeding things up, but the last thing I want is to scare him into charging for the door .
“Let’s get started, and if you need a break, just ask.”
He huffs a sigh. “Fine.”
By the time we get halfway through the corrections, I have a feeling Will’s history struggles aren’t from lack of interest because we get into a very heated debate about the plight of mid-1800’s textile workers, who were mostly women and children.
His typing skills need work, he’s a slow reader, and though he doesn’t fidget a lot, his attention is as shifty as the sand dunes on Mars.
“Break time?” I ask after an hour.
He scrubs his face and adjusts his hat. “Yeah, be right back.”
While he slips through the library doors, I take a long sip of my water, then decide to visit the restroom. I’m in the stall minding my own business when I get company.
“He should have been done by now,” a girl complains.
“That grubby little band dork better not be stalling,” another girl says.
My cheeks burn. They’re talking about me . What’s worse is I place the voice—it’s Tori and her flyer bestie Sierra.
“Bet she can hardly wait to go home and get herself off after rubbing thighs with William.”
My mouth drops open in shock. Rude .
The other girl laughs. “Or maybe that’s you, hmm?”
“Fuck off.” There’s a click from a lipstick or maybe a compact.
“So why hasn’t he asked you to HoCo yet?”
“Patience, Feyre Darling.”
The door thumps shut. I exhale the breath trapped in my lungs.
Anger flushes my chest. Did Tori really have to insult me and quote from one of my favorite books? And here I thought she didn’t read.
Back at the table, William is waiting. Do I detect a smear of pink lipstick on his jawline when I settle in next to him?
It’s not as if I think a guy like William would be into me. A tiny part of me hoped we could at least be friends, but not if he’s hanging out with girls like Tori .
I tried to warn him, but he didn’t listen.
It’s obvious William’s exceptional talent and good looks are going to take him places, and he’ll be surrounded by people eager to surf his wake.
But if he doesn’t start paying attention to things that actually matter, history tests will be the least of his problems.