7. Laura
7
LAURA
B ecause Jason was so close to failing so many classes, the recovery program coordinators stated that he had to have tutoring twice a week.
Two times a week, I’d need to suffer his cocky arrogance.
I wasn’t sure I could handle it.
The first session went horribly. And as I waited for him to arrive at the library again tonight, my stomach twisted and knotted with anxiety and panic all over again. The second my dad told me that I’d be forced to spend time with the campus’s most reckless man, I dreaded it.
And he wasn’t proving me wrong.
I shot another glance at the clock on the wall, wondering how long I should give it before I leave.
My phone buzzed, and I appreciated Kristin’s text as a reminder to silence it. Jason was such a rude asshole that he didn’t deserve my full attention and the detail of focusing only on him. But that wasn’t who I was.
He was right. I was shy, and I hated it.
I was scared and intimidated of him, and I hated that too.
Yet, I refused to lower my standards or compromise my integrity. I was here to tutor, and like anything else academically involved, I would give it my all. I would try. I would do all I could to earnestly help him, even if he showed no sign of wanting my help.
Kristin: So is he there yet?
I’d told her all about the first session, and she was tuned in to how unpunctual he was.
Laura: Nope. I’m not surprised about that, either.
Kristin: I still can’t believe your dad stuck you with him.
I sighed, feeling the same.
Of all the students. Of all the guys.
It just had to be him.
Kristin: Maybe this time won’t be as bad?
Laura: He’s already fifteen minutes late. I’ll give it five more and I’m out of here.
That was fair. At least for people who could be considerate of others’ schedules, that was professional and fair.
Okay, ten. I’ll wait ten more minutes and leave.
Laura: And after how terrible the first session was, I can’t imagine how much worse it could be.
Laura: He showed up late, not caring about my time.
Laura: He openly mocked me, calling me Second-Best. He taunted me. If he wasn’t cutting me off and being a rude asshole, he was belittling me and arguing every single thing I said.
Laura: He’s a jerk.
And that was all from one hour of trying and failing to tutor him on Tuesday.
Laura: He wasted the whole tutoring session. We didn’t even get to any study material, so he’s completely unwilling to try. Yet he would roll his eyes and get mad every time that I subtly hinted at him about just quitting and sparing both of us the headache of meeting up.
I felt guilty to gossip like this, but that was a ridiculous notion. Jason came to that tutoring session reeking of booze with no intention to try to study. His mean attitude was uncalled for, so no, I wasn’t out of line to vent to my best friend. She wouldn’t talk about it with anyone else.
Kristin: But at least he’s hot. That’s got to help a little bit.
“Oh, come on,” I muttered, shooting my gaze to the ceiling. “Like that matters,” I whispered.
Kristin: Don’t try to deny it.
I wasn’t. I wouldn’t. I would also not comment about how attractive Jason Reeves was, not at all.
If the rugged, reckless bad boy thing was my type, then yeah, he fit the bill. With longish, thick brown hair, those dark caramel eyes, and the lean cut to his masculine face, he was nice to look at. But he was a different breed of a bad boy. He didn’t look like a slob and he wasn’t marked with tattoos or signs of drug abuse. Jason dressed well, as if subliminally reminding the world that he came from money and would flaunt it whenever he wanted to.
It was something more than that, though. Some power of charisma just oozed from him. A strange pull that tricked me into wanting to watch him again and again.
Kristin: There is no way you can’t admit he’s HOT. Hot AF.
She added a GIF of fanning herself like a girl in heat.
Laura: I can admit that I am aware of him.
That wasn’t agreeing or arguing with her. It was the truth. I was aware of him—intrigued about his appeal and annoyed with his attitude.
Kristin: He doesn’t have such a high record of sleeping with so many na?ve freshmen for nothing.
I huffed a dry laugh. Like I needed a reminder of how much of a player he is, sleeping his way through college.
Laura: Good thing I’m not a na?ve freshman then, huh?
Kristin: LOL. But you ARE na?ve.
Kristin: I love you like a sister, but you are definitely a na?ve good girl when it comes to the sort of girls a guy like Jason wants to ruin.
Laura: Thanks.
I tacked on a smirk emoji.
It didn’t make a difference to me. I wanted to focus on me, on my future. I could put energy into having a love life later when I was older.
Kristin: I say that as in I’m low-key worried about your being so na?ve around all his sexy hotness.
I laughed out loud again, once.
Laura: Okay, enough about his being ridiculously hot.
Kristin: AHA! You admit it!!
I furrowed my brow.
Laura: It doesn’t change how much of an ass he is.
Laura: The high degree of his asshole-ness rules out his hotness factor.
Kristin: Only you would talk about how sexy a guy is like it’s a scientific equation.
Laura: I’m not single. I shouldn’t even be talking about how hot other guys are when I have yet to break up with Ethan.
Kristin: I didn’t realize that you’d officially decided to break up with him yet.
Laura: I did. This morning.
Like when I realized I hadn’t thought about Ethan at all for a couple of days. Whereas I had thought about Jason all week.
She sent a shrugging emoji.
Kristin: Whatever. It’s not like you guys are serious or going anywhere as a couple even if you didn’t want to dump him. Appreciating eye candy isn’t a crime…
I glanced up, hating that she’d interpret what I said as appreciating Jason. Just then, he appeared, entering the library.
Late, and still wearing that cocky smirk, he looked like trouble heading my way. He was trouble coming straight for me.
With that swagger. That confidence. That devilish almost-sneer.
He just had to show up looking every bit the bad boy, the menace I should disdain.
Dammit. Why does he have to be so hot?
On the heel of that thought, I almost cringed.
What’s wrong with me that I think he is?
Jason wasn’t supposed to be my type. But that wasn’t saying much. Ethan wasn’t my type either, yet I’d put up with him for too long.
“Don’t dress up on my account,” he taunted as he came up close and dropped into the chair across from me.
I frowned, glancing down at my outfit. Jeans and a sweatshirt weren’t that dull. After I caught him staring at my chest last time, I wanted to layer up to avoid feeling that weird warmth at his attention.
“I’m not here to dress up for you,” I replied.
Having survived one hour with him three days ago, I was well on my way to building up a resistance. It wasn’t like he’d hit me or anything. Words wouldn’t kill me. Besides, I knew this wouldn’t go on forever. He’d get sick of me and of having to come here. The break from partying and drinking and whoring around had to be exhausting.
Just tough it out.
Then he’ll quit.
And I could go back to my life, unscathed.
Under the intensity of his stare, I felt scathed and raw. Exposed.
How does he do it?
How does he make me feel so vulnerable with just one angry look?
“No, you’re just here to act like a know-it-all. To annoy me.”
“You can leave,” I suggested.
Even though I was kind of talking back, which felt so foreign, I kept my tone firm and neutral. I was too shy to be more combative.
“Not a fucking chance, Second-Best.”
God, I hate that name.
Sticking with my goal to try to go over his last math assignment, which was actually a pain in the ass lesson to grasp, I ignored how he wanted to get under my skin.
If he wanted to establish dominance between us by bullying me, fine.
If he wanted to challenge every single thing just for the sake of starting an argument, whatever.
I didn’t take it personally when he tried to insinuate that I didn’t know how to teach something.
And I let it in one ear and out the other when he looked at me like I was filth.
My dad expected me to deal with this jerk, and I would. I wouldn’t let Jason Reeves’ lack of manners be the reason my dad would force me to drop out of the classes I enjoyed and looked forward to.
You’ll give up.
You’ll quit.
I wanted to scream those sentiments at Jason when he pushed me.
I didn’t, because I knew that he wouldn’t break me. He wouldn’t win at this inane antagonism he was so bound and determined to establish between us.
“Are you done yet?” he said after I spent fifteen minutes explaining a problem’s solution to him.
“With you?” I shot back.
He chuckled, the sound so low and raspy that it was almost seductive.
“With me?” He leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’d never be good enough to be with me, Second-Best.”
I pulled my lower lip into my mouth and traced my tongue along it, fighting the urge to scream.
“I’m not trying to be with you.”
“Why? Too good and pure to even think about fucking a man?”
I blinked once and shook my head. “How did we go from discussing the law of cosines?—”
“We weren’t discussing shit. You were lecturing me like a boring know-it-all.”
“—to talking about…” I furrowed my brow and shut up.
He grinned like the devil he was. “Sex. Sex , Second-Best. You’re such a fucking prude that you can’t even say the word.”
This wasn’t worth arguing about, but I didn’t like how instantly I wanted to correct him. I wasn’t a prude. I just wanted to concentrate on my future before wasting so much energy on romance.
“Say it.” He leaned in more, tempting me to want to meet him in the middle over the table so I could get a deeper inhale of that spicy cologne he wore. That and the underlying scent of soap. It wasn’t fair that he could look and smell good. “I dare you. Say it.”
I sighed, not in the mood for his games. “So, again,” I said, pointing my pencil tip to what I last wrote in my notebook, “if you are trying to solve for the variable of?—”
“I want to solve the mystery of whether you’re as pathetic as you look.” He took hold of my pencil and snapped it in half with one hand. “Say it.”
I grabbed another pencil, determined not to show him how much he was bothering me. “For the variable of?—”
He grabbed that pencil and snapped it as well. Then he shoved the notebook clear across the table until it slipped over the edge and dropped to the floor.
“Say it, Laura,” he growled, smiling mischievously.
That was the first time he’d called me by my name, not that damn nickname that would never die on campus.
“Why does it matter?”
“Because I enjoy seeing you squirm. It’s too much fucking fun seeing you blush and get so scared.”
You’re a sadist.
“I’m not squirming,” I protested.
“But you’re such a good little angel that you can’t even say the word.”
“Sex?” I replied nonchalantly with a shrug. “Fucking?” Another shrug. “They’re just words.”
The same as everything else you say. All his insults and teases were just words, and they’d never bring me down so low that he’d keep me down.
“Yeah.” He laughed rudely. “They are just words. Because there’s no way you’re not a virgin, too hopeless to ever make a guy want that .” He gestured at me with a cruel sneer.
All right. That one hurt. Just a little. Any woman would feel a bit crushed to hear a man critique her as unfuckable. That was just a basic principle of Self-Esteem 101.
“Whatever you say,” I replied dully before going back to the trig problems, distracting myself from the sting of his remark.
Ignore him.
He won’t last.
He’ll quit any day now.
Then I can go back to normal.
But by the end of the night when he got up to stalk away, I hated the very twisted and niggling thought that it was kind of exciting to stand up to him.
To be challenged and survive the fight.
Just enough to want to experience it again.