Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
WELLS
I’m sitting in my small office–which barely qualifies as a broom closet–waiting for my next student to arrive.
And yet, these four walls are the crowning achievement for most collegiate tutors, something the majority of former gifted kids who need to pay their way through college strive for in the world of on-campus jobs.
Of the hundreds of tutors employed by Radford University to help students ranging from freshman to super seniors–and beyond, good luck to them–only a select few ever maintain the requisite number of hours to get their own office. This is my version of a trophy.
But unlike most of my co-workers, I don’t need this job.
Not by a long shot. I’m here because I like what I do.
Watching a students’ face when it finally clicks.
Seeing the hours of hard work pay off when they proudly show me their last essay or exam score.
No one thinks I’m very in touch with my emotions, but it’s why I do this.
Because I like how it makes me feel. I like how I can help make other people feel.
And it’s also the one place where my family’s money and name have no weight.
The people I’m working with don’t care who my daddy is, only that I help them improve their grades and ultimately graduate.
It’s as close to being invisible as I can get while still feeling like I have a giant neon sign on my back.
It’s also not a bad way to meet guys, though I never smoke my own supply.
If you’re my student, you’re off-limits to me.
That’s not just my own rule, but the school’s as well.
Though that doesn’t stop hundreds of other eligible men from gracing the halls of the Beckett Academic Support Center, all of whom are fair game.
And most of them only need tutoring for a specific class, so it’s easy to part ways when their semester ends, no reason for them to wander back in.
I also don’t hook up with guys who have tutoring at the same time, so they never cross paths.
And even though I’m always up front with what this is, how I’m not interested in settling down with anyone, sometimes, they don’t hear that part.
Not to toot my own horn, but it’s pretty much a perfect system.
Except when it isn’t, I think as Julie Walters steps into my office without knocking, her brunette ponytail sashaying a half-step behind her.
I couldn’t have anticipated the shit storm I’d find myself in when I had what I thought was a very casual fling with a junior transfer student named Zack last month.
Who, I obviously wouldn’t have hooked up with had I known that he was Julie’s boyfriend. I also have a rule about that, not that it matters much to Julie. Really, if you think about it, she and I were both wronged.
But the real problem is that she didn’t break up with him, which is making my life infinitely harder. Because now Julie has all this anger and nowhere to put it.
She acts like it’s my fault that they survived three years of long distance, only for his mouth to fall on my cock.
And she has some misguided notion that I was the one who seduced him.
No one told him to get on his knees in the men’s bathroom after most students had gone home and give me the most enthusiastic blowjob of my life.
I didn’t even bat my eyelashes at him!
And I’m not a fucking idiot. Julie, in her infinite wisdom to ‘not play favorites,’ hadn’t told anyone that he was her boyfriend when she’d paired him with his tutor.
The Zack that we’d been hearing about for years.
The father of her future babies. The high school sweetheart who she’s been dating since she was fifteen.
The boyfriend who was a year younger, but who she’d been doing long distance with for her first year at Radford, and then waited patiently until he could transfer from his satellite campus near their hometown.
What does their drama have to do with me, except that I was a willing victim? It’s not my fault that he decided to throw his seven-year-long relationship into chaos.
Only, Julie doesn’t see it that way.
But since she can’t get me fired without getting Zack kicked out of his tutoring program too–and intelligence is clearly not this man’s strong suit–she hasn’t raised this issue with any of the full-time faculty.
Which leaves her to try and torture me within the bounds of the control she has as the tutoring center’s coordinator.
She throws a folder down on my desk and smirks. This can’t be good. “New tutoring student. He’s yours.”
I put my hand on the folder but don’t open it, meeting her stare.
I smile back. I’ve spent a lot of years learning to not show when something’s bothering me.
“I’m maxed out on students this term, but I appreciate you thinking of me.
” And as the center’s coordinator, Julie knows that.
This is yet another way for her to punish me for hooking up with Zack, which is bullshit.
And yeah, I can handle another student, but that’s not the point.
She should really be focusing on the true source of her ire instead of taking it out on me.
She crosses her arms. “It’s not a request, and this is a unique situation.”
I glance down at the folder again, realizing that it has a red sticker on it, which denotes that someone is a student athlete.
“You know I don’t work with jocks.” It’s another one of my rules.
Radford University athletes care the least and are just phoning it in to keep eligibility.
No desire to learn or understand or grow.
I would rather stab myself in the eye with a pencil than use my time to help one of them.
Julie looks at the folder again. “Well, now you do.”
I interlock my fingers and lift one eyebrow, which is something I can do on command and take great pride in.
“I didn’t realize you had enough charisma to become the fascist dictator of the student center, Julie.
I was under the impression that all I needed was to stay at eighty percent capacity and maintain feedback scores from my students.
” Why I’m humoring her, I don’t really know.
What I also don’t know is why she isn’t backing down.
The opposite, actually. She takes another step into the office.
“Unfortunately, we did get a pretty serious complaint from one of your students. I told Tricia that it must be a mistake, and that I would work closely with you to make sure that nothing like this happens again.”
My left brow lifts upward to meet my right one, genuinely confused. But I have to take Julie seriously. Tricia is a full-time staff member and actually could get me fired. “I don’t know where that would have come from.”
Julie frowns, though I can see the smile threatening to overtake her face. This has her passive-aggressive handwriting all over it. “Anonymous complaint. We take confidentiality seriously, Wells. I hope you can understand.”
I bite back a scoff. My patience was already wearing thin, but now the last thread has snapped.
“What is the point of this, anyway? You’re still pissy that your boyfriend blew me?
Get over it or break up with him. Whatever the fuck is going on in your excuse for a relationship has nothing to do with me. ”
She reels back like I hit her. I don’t like being mean to people, generally.
But I spent enough years of my life being wailed on that I know a bully when I see one.
And Julie is a bully, through and through.
She wields the power she has like a weapon.
She already hated that she couldn’t control me as a tutor–that I didn’t kowtow to her like the other staff in the center–and now that she believes I’ve actually done something to malign her, the mask has fully slipped away.
She takes a step closer before shoving her finger at the folder. “Abusing your power to sleep with students isn’t a good look, Wells. Everyone knows it. You being good at your job doesn’t change that fact, no matter how much you wish it would.”
I laugh, even as I can feel my pulse pick up.
What I’m doing isn’t technically against school rules, though courts of public opinion are a very different thing.
Still… I can’t give Julie the satisfaction, my own self-interests be damned.
“Real pot calling the kettle black moment, Julie. Though you aren’t exactly good at your job, so I guess it’s not an apt comparison.
You just do the abusing-your-power part. ”
“Most people jump at the chance to work with athletes, but not you. I’ve always wondered why that is.” She says the words like she’s thinking out loud, genuinely curious. It’s unnerving, but she’s never going to get the honest answer no matter what she throws at me.
I toss the folder toward where she stands across from my desk. “I prefer to spend my time with people who actually care about their academic futures. Jocks passing classes is just a means to an end for them.”
Julie stands up straight, eyeing me with a surprisingly intense look as she pushes the folder back toward me.
“I know you love a challenge, Wells. So like I said, this isn’t optional.
It’s a requirement for the school to not bring academic integrity charges against you.
I can’t imagine that would sit well with your father, would it? ”
In spite of myself, I can feel my molars grinding.
At a time like this, having a university building named after your family isn’t a help.
Thank god it’s not the entire School of Business–just the Wellington Building, where most of the upperclassmen classes take place.
Though at this moment, the semantics don’t seem to matter much.
I’d seriously considered going to any number of the colleges that I’d been accepted to three years ago, but I came to Radford University when I still thought that I could earn my father’s respect in spite of being gay.
And I’d been so very wrong about that.
I narrow my eyes, even as I finally pick up the folder. The fact that her winning comes at the cost of me losing isn’t lost on me.
Julie gives me an annoyed, self-satisfied smile before turning around and walking toward the door. “I’m sure that you will be just the person to get Kellan O’Reilly where he needs to be. And as a bonus, I highly doubt there’s a chance that you’ll get yourself into any more trouble in the meantime.”
I’m glad she’s already turned around and doesn’t see how the color’s drained from my face.
It feels like I’ve been punched in the stomach, and I taste the harsh tang of bile in my throat.
The threat of an integrity review, expulsion–even my father’s ire–pales in comparison to hearing his name as she walks out the door.