Chapter 6
CHAPTER
SIX
ANNIE
“What are you doing?” I ask as Miles takes a thin book out of his black backpack.
“Entertaining myself while you write your new outline.” Miles leans back in the wooden chair across from me, making himself comfortable and crossing one ankle over the other leg at the knee. He opens the book and holds it in one hand, propping it up against his raised knee.
I recognize the blue cover of the novella. The Pearl by John Steinbeck. An awfully depressing afternoon read, though I don’t care for Miles enough to warn him.
“That’s not the deal.” Reading Steinbeck while I work on my essay alone isn’t helping me.
“I believe your exact words were that I was required to sit down with you. You didn’t stipulate how we’d spend the session beyond that and since I’m the tutor, I think I get to direct the session. Get outlining, Blue.”
“Why are you calling me that?” I’m sure the nickname isn’t supposed to be nice after calling me Little Orphan Annie.
“Less talking, more outlining.” Miles exaggerates a yawn as his eyes skim the page in front of him.
I don’t have a lot of options. I already let the full-time assistants at Drizzle know that I’ll be in later than usual. I’m there as a favor to the boss so they don’t schedule my hours, but I try to be consistent with my schedule. I don’t want to give anyone a reason to complain about me to Kurt Hartford.
Finding a tutor who actually took Professor Parks’ class wasn’t easy, either. The people running the tutoring center warned me that most of their English tutors have only taken the basic required classes.
I grab a notebook from my backpack on the chair beside me and flip to a clean page. I pause when I lean over to reach for a pen, running my teeth over my bottom lip as I consider my options. My favorite pens to write with are blue ink, but I feel a little sensitive pulling out the color when I don’t know why Miles has designated it my nickname. I do have a couple of black pens in the front pocket of my bag but I always feel like I concentrate better when I write in blue.
Damn Miles for making me insecure. I pull out a blue pen and triumphantly thump it on the table.
Miles glances up from his book long enough to quirk one eyebrow at me.
I pretend not to notice.
“Ahem.” I set my pen aside and slide my two-page outline across the table to Miles.
He holds up one finger and remains focused on his novella. I tap my foot impatiently on the floor as I wait to be acknowledged. He flips his page and continues reading. His eyes move across the page at an impressive speed.
“Seriously?” I cross my arms and slump in my seat as he turns another page and continues to read. “Haven’t you ever heard of a bookmark?”
Miles turns a third page before finally closing his book. “I’m done now. Did you have something you needed to say?”
“Done as in… Did you just read that whole book?” I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised that he flew through reading the novella. He has to like books if he took Professor Parks’ class since the course is suggested for intended English majors.
“It’s only a novella. That means a short book.” He waves The Pearl a few times before returning the book to his bag. “And yes, I read the whole thing.”
Ugh. “I know what a novella is.”
“Sure you do, Blue.” He smirks patronizingly and picks up my outline.
I feel nervous as Miles reads over my second attempt at an outline. I double-checked all of Professor Parks’ instructions for our next essay to make sure I stayed within the parameters of the assignment. I also read the fairy tales for this section three times all the way through to make sure I wouldn’t miss anything critical in my analysis of Hans Christian Andersen.
“This is fine.” Miles drops my outline on the table and shoves the pages back across to me.
I’m expecting criticism from my surly tutor so I sit silently waiting for him to say more. Instead, he stands and slings the strap of his backpack over one shoulder.
“Wait, that’s all you’re going to say?”
I grab my outline and backpack and hastily stand to follow him as he starts to walk away.
“Miles?” I lower my voice as we pass tables of other students studying and flipping through textbooks. “I thought you would give me feedback. Wasn’t the whole point for me to strengthen my outline?”
He sighs in exasperation and shushes me.
We march out of the library together, passing through the huge wooden doors of the front entrance and out onto the sidewalk that cuts through the quad in the center of campus. I study his profile intently, looking for some sign of acknowledgment.
Once we’re outside, he stops and turns to face me, grabbing me by the shoulders hard enough that I wince. “You’re exhausting,” he bites out.
I’m not trying to be. I can feel tears threaten at the corners of my eyes. I’m working so hard to try to do a good job and he’s making things even harder for me.
“Your outline is fine—just like I said. Go home and write your fucking paper. I’ll message you Sunday with my email so you can send me your draft and we’ll schedule to meet Monday.” He releases my shoulders. “Can I go now? Because if you’re looking to be this needy with someone, you should get a boyfriend.”
“I have a boyfriend,” I inform him indignantly. “A great one.”
“Oh, a great one?” he sing-songs mockingly.
“Yeah, he’s fantastic. The perfect boyfriend.” Now I’ve ventured too far into defensive territory and I sound like I’m making up my boyfriend altogether. I wince and desperately try to think of a way to legitimize my claims.
We’re interrupted by arms wrapping around my shoulders from behind as a familiar body presses close.
“Perfect, huh?” Cameron teases close to my ear.
I try not to shy away with discomfort at the show of PDA. Cameron is great… He just tends to be a little more Octopus-arms than I’m comfortable with in public. My boyfriend is a social butterfly—completely unafraid of living large and loud—whereas I’m an introverted bookworm through and through.
“That is what I said,” I confirm with a nervous, high-pitched giggle. I sound like a high school cheerleader on a mid-2000s CW teen drama.
“Wow, a perfect boyfriend in real life. I can’t wait to tell all of my friends I’ve seen the equivalent of Bigfoot on campus.” Miles leans forward and makes a square shape with his thumbs and index fingers. He holds up the square to frame Cameron and me in the center.
“What are you doing?” I’m growing more uncomfortable by the second.
“Commemorating this special moment with a photo.” Miles smirks as my boyfriend drops his arms from around me.
“Who the fuck even are you, dude?” Cameron steps forward with his chest puffed out. I try to grab his arm to stop him before this confrontation escalates, but he shakes me off.
Miles smiles at Cameron with a lazy, sloping grin that makes my chest tighten. “I’m the guy your girlfriend just spent the last hour with.” Miles looks over at me. “Don’t worry, though. I’m sure she’ll still have plenty of energy left for you, pal.”
“I’m not your pal , buddy.” Cameron takes another step forward, and Miles matches it.
“Guys, don’t!” I drop my backpack on the sidewalk and shove myself between the two of them.
Cameron has been in trouble once already for fighting at a frat house during welcome week. His dad, Kurt Hartford, called in a favor with the college president to smooth things over; I don’t think that would go over so easily a second time.
“Get out of the way, Annie,” Cameron growls out through gritted teeth. His hands are balled into fists. Now that I’m standing behind him, I can smell the stench of alcohol on his breath.
Miles laughs dryly. “Yeah, Blue. Listen to your perfect boyfriend.”
“Cameron, he’s my tutor. He’s helping me with my next essay for Professor Parks, that’s all.” I don’t acknowledge Miles as I try to reason with my increasingly irate boyfriend. His fuse is short on a good day, and Miles seems capable of pushing other people’s buttons with an Olympic-level performance.
“That’s all,” Miles mocks from behind me. He’s so close I can feel his body heat radiating against my back.
I’m so frustrated with the guy that without thinking twice, I rear my elbow back and elbow him right in the gut. There’s something admittedly very satisfying about hearing him grunt as the wind is knocked out of him for a second.
Cameron tosses his head back with a laugh.
“Not so tough now, are you?” Cameron asks, stepping back as he finally manages to regain his wits and remember where we are.
I glance around us and confirm that we’ve drawn a small audience. I can vaguely hear Cameron’s name being muttered around us. He’s already infamous on this campus because he came and partied with his big brother last year when he was only a high school senior. His reputation—and the reputation of the entire Hartford family—proceeds him.
I put my hand on Cameron’s chest and nudge him back a step. He wraps an arm around me and pulls me against his chest. I shift my stance to warily look back at my antagonistic tutor.
“Yeah, the guy letting his girl fight his battles for him is way tougher than I could ever be.” Miles waves Cameron off dismissively. His gaze moves to me and for the first time, I’m paying enough attention to really take note of his sharp, hazel gaze. Miles wraps his hands around the strap of his backpack and starts to casually walk backward as if he has no cares in the world. He smirks before delivering his parting words. “See you Monday, Blue.”