Chapter 6 #2
“Bye, Bear.”
I close the door behind me and sit in my car while I stare at the house.
She was happy. I haven’t seen her look like that in years. I haven’t seen her laugh like that in so long. Her hair was done. Her makeup was on. She was standing in the kitchen with life in her eyes instead of lying in bed with a bottle of alcohol.
But the dishes were the same. The trash was at the curb.
Bear ate cereal five times today unless a few bowls were from Tyr.
The dog peed on the bathroom floor, and she didn’t clean it up.
She’s been dating this guy long enough that he’s potentially moving in, and the house was still my job. I don’t understand.
Maybe Tyr is good. Maybe he’s the thing. Maybe in a month, the dishes won’t pile up because he’ll do them. Maybe Bear will eat real dinners. Maybe I’ll come home, and the laundry will already be done.
Maybe.
I want it, but I don’t trust it. I admit that I also liked him. He was nervous to meet me. He was trying. He made my mom laugh in a way I haven’t heard her laugh, and the laugh was real, not the laugh she used for the gas station guys.
Maybe I’m being unfair. Maybe I’m being protective the way I always am, and maybe this time I don’t have to be.
I-94 is dark on the way back. The car pulls left. I correct right. I have no idea how to fix this problem. I get back to the apartment a little after nine.
The lights are off. Gianna’s at the rink for late film with the team — she texted to let me know. I eat half a granola bar standing in the kitchen because I haven’t eaten since noon in the dining hall. I shower and then get in bed, exhausted by the ghost of thoughts swirling in my head.
The alarm goes at six-thirty, and I wake up lighter than I went to bed. By lunch time, I’m crossing the south lawn toward the dining hall to meet with Gianna. She’s wearing the polo and sitting with Penelope Ventura.
Gianna is talking about sports physio when I sit down with my tray. “Hey.”
They both look up. “Hey.”
Penelope flashes a friendly smile. “Hi.”
“How are you, Penelope? I feel like it’s been a long week,” I say, reaching for a few of my fries.
She takes a bite of food and nods. “Yeah, no kidding. I’ve been so busy with class and at the rink. I don’t have time for anything.”
“How’s that going?” I ask, taking a bite of my burger.
“It’s good. How are you?”
I give her a thumbs up with my mouth full of food, and she smiles.
Gianna peels her banana. “I came home so late last night. I hope I didn’t wake you.”
I shake my head. “Not at all.”
“How was your mom’s?” she asks.
“Surprisingly,” I say, “it was good. She had a guy over.”
Gianna scrunches her face. “Like a boyfriend?”
I nod. “His name is Tyr.”
Her brows furrow. “Tire.”
I chuckle. “That’s what I said.”
Gianna shrugs at Penelope. “Okay.”
I continue to eat while Gianna and Penelope chat.
Room 3B in the library is mine again. I have my Real Analysis open, and I’m actually working on it. There’s a feeling in my chest that’s lighter. I work through multiple assignments, keeping an eye on the clock.
When the knob turns, my heart flutters. I glance at the clock. Benson is three minutes early. He has his backpack on one shoulder and a paper bag in his hand.
“Hi,” he says.
I sit up straight and offer a friendly smile. “Hi. How are you?”
He looks down at the paper bag in his hands. “Couldn’t be better. I think you’re going to be happy.”
“Happy?” I question, wondering what he means.
“Two things,” he says, handing over the paper bag nonchalantly. “This.” He reaches into his backpack and pulls out a packet stapled together. “And this.”
I grab the paper bag, a bit suspicious. “What is this?”
“Look inside.”
Excitement fills me. I’ve never been gifted something before. I grab the bag and unroll it. When I peek inside, there’s a Hershey’s, a Milky Way, a Reese’s, a Twix, a Kit Kat, and a bag of pretzels at the bottom. I stare at it for a moment and then look up at him.
“No way,” I mutter, unable to hide my smile.
“You’re not allergic to dairy, are you?” He’s looking at me, a bit worried if I approve or not.
“If I were, I wouldn’t care.” I look back into the bag, knowing exactly which one I’m going to eat first. “Thank you so much, Benson. This was so nice of you.”
He shrugs. “Well, no one said you had to buy me a notebook and label it with my name. So, we’re even.”
“We are not even. That notebook is for math.” I chuckle.
He’s watching me laugh with a small smile playing on his lips. His face does something I can’t read.
“Pick one,” he says.
I look down. “Say less.” I grab the KitKat and push the bag aside.
His face softens as he looks at it. “That would’ve been my first pick.”
“Yeah, right,” I say automatically. “You’re just saying that.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not.”
I look up at him, and I don’t think he’s lying. I tear open the wrapper and split it in half. “Here.”
He shakes his head, pursing his lips. “That’s for you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You bought me six candy bars. Come on.”
He inhales, leaning back. “If you insist.”
I laugh. “You want it, just admit it.”
He chuckles. “I actually shouldn’t but––” he takes it from me, “thank you.”
“Thank you.”
I take a bite, and then he slides the packet towards me. “I did it.”
I look down at the papers.
“I did all of it. The homework for this week. And the extra credit I had to beg Markham. He gave in after I explained to him that I was just reading the questions wrong.”
“You must’ve been very persuasive,” I say and pick up the packet.
I look it over while eating my KitKat. He leans back, finishing his. Our chewing fills the silence.
He’s done it. All ten problems. Notation correct.
Decimal versus percentage flagged in pencil at the top of the page like a reminder.
Work shown. The handwriting is loose and angled and entirely his.
I flip to the second page. Same. I pick up the extra credit.
Three problems, harder than the regular set.
He’s done them. They’re correct. I set both packets down.
“You did all of this on your own.”
“Yeah.”
I don’t know what to do with myself. He doesn’t even need a tutor. I am, for the second time this week, unneeded by someone I came in expecting to need me. The next six weeks of my life are going to be sitting across from a hockey player who could be doing this homework at home.
I keep my face neutral, trying to process what this means. He watches me for half a second longer than he should. He doesn’t say anything.
I clear my throat. “Okay. So.” I pause awkwardly. “Should I report that you don’t need me? Really, I could say that you didn’t need me in the first place.”
He shakes his head. “No, Coach Fuller wants me to see this through. He’ll think I fabricated it or I’m trying to get out of it or something.”
“But that’s not something you would do. Are you just assuming that?
” I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table.
I can just tell that it’s not in his character to lie.
“I don’t want to waste your time if you don’t need me.
I’m sure you could use your Tuesdays and Thursdays for something else.
” He pulled out his planner on Tuesday, and I got a whiff of what his schedule looks like. He’s a busy man.
He keeps eye contact while he thinks. “I have to be honest. I can’t say that I’ll know the rest of the material for the class. I mean, before Tuesday, I was failing,” he says, convincing me that I’m wrong. “I don’t want to cancel these tutor sessions and then need you.”
My face heats. I look at the table, and in my peripheral vision, I notice his veins popping out of his large hands. They crawl up his forearm and hide under his shirt.
“Okay,” I say finally. “That’s fair.” I grab the papers and look at them again. “Is this all the work you needed to do?”
He nods, reaching for his bag. “That’s all of it, but I have other things I can work on.”
“Anything I can help with?”
He smirks. “I think I got it. You’re more than welcome to work on whatever you need.”
I lean back, feeling wrong about this. “You know that I’m on the clock, right? I’m technically getting paid.”
“I don’t mind,” he says with a smile, turning his attention to his laptop.
I settle into my chair and pull out the work I was doing before he came in.
After a few minutes, I look over my screen at him.
His eyes flick to mine. I look away quickly.
Suddenly, I’m seeing this from a third person’s perspective.
Benson Reeve and I are comfortably sitting across from each other with our laptops open, and for some reason, it feels easy.
It feels like we’re friends, even though we haven’t been within a mile of personal-question territory yet.
About a half hour later, I reach for the paper bag. He closes his laptop and leans back, stretching out his legs.
“Oh, did you assume I was sharing again?” I tease because he put away his work as soon as I grabbed the bag.
He crosses his arms, watching me.
I shake the bag around and say, “I’m just kidding.” I slide the bag to him. “Here. Pick one.”
“Without looking?”
I nod. “It’ll be a surprise.”
He sticks his hand in, shuffles around, and then pulls out the Reese’s.
“Did you cheat?” I scoff, looking down at the bag.
He opens the package with a slight smile.
“Okay. I’m convinced you bought the chocolate for yourself.”
He hands me the other Reese’s from the pack and says, “I shouldn’t be eating this. You’re a bad influence, Lucy.”
My heart tugs when he says my name. He shoves the entire thing in his mouth and chews, watching me take off the bottom wrapper and take a small bite.
A group of people walks by, and one of the guys, towards the back, double-takes in our room.
He says something to the guy in front of him, and he looks in the room too.
The door opens, and his head of blonde hair pops in.
“What’s up, Reeve?” the guy smiles, looking between us. “Is this Lucy?”
I try to keep my composure, but my brain immediately suggests that Benson is talking about me to his friends. I ignore the butterflies in my stomach as I watch Benson turn around.
“Stanley,” Benson says. “What’re you doing here?”
Stanley ignores him and smiles brightly at me. “Lucy, girl,” he says, “You better be helping my boy with his math. We need him on the ice.”
“I am,” I mumble with a bite of Reese’s in my mouth.
He looks at the wrapper on the table, the paper bag, and lets the door fall open, exposing his full height. “Are you eating chocolate, Reeve?” He searches his face. “I thought we talked about this. You can’t eat that crap.”
I snicker. He’s making it sound like Benson has a chocolate problem.
Benson doesn’t say anything, but I watch Stanley’s face change as he looks at him.
“Oh,” Stanley says, looking at me. “Sorry. Is the candy yours?”
I nod.
He looks at Benson. “Don’t let her corrupt you. Remember the rules.”
“Jesus, Stan.” Benson seems annoyed, but I can’t see his eyes.
Stanley lifts a hand and waves. “Nice to meet you, Lucy.”
Before I can say anything, he shuts the door and runs off. I watch him go and finish eating my Reese’s.
Benson turns around and sighs, “Sorry about that.”
I offer a smile and a bit of unsolicited advice, “Don’t apologize.” I swallow the chocolate. “Never apologize for other people’s doing. You can’t control them.”
He plays with the pencil he took from me last week. “You’re right.” He taps the pencil and then pulls his laptop open and focuses on the screen. I take that as a hint to do the same.