Chapter 7
CHAPTER
SEVEN
BO
Getting to sleep last night took a little longer than it usually does.
It’s a funny thing—attraction. I’ve always been attracted to Chelsea, and maybe it’s because she’s been around us more over this past year that I feel more comfortable taking my shot with her now.
Because here’s the thing with a girl like her: you don’t just mess around with her.
She’s the kind of girl who gets in your veins and you crave her.
The timing of this is kind of funny though.
This season is important not only for the team, but also for me individually.
I have a lot to prove and many important decisions to make about my future.
So, starting something with Chelsea could be distracting, but also, I’m not sure I care.
A distraction like her … totally worth it.
The tutoring just gives me another reason to get to spend time with her.
I just finished my last class for the day and check my watch to see I have just enough time to stop and get her a chai before I meet her for our first study session. Did I memorize her coffee order? You bet I did.
After grabbing our drinks and a few cookies, I make my way across the quad to the library.
Our campus library is large, but she texted me earlier to meet her in one of the study rooms on the second floor, so I head toward the staircase and take two steps at a time to the top, steadying the tray of drinks in my hand.
I find her in the room farthest from the stairs and away from some of the other study group tables.
I’m glad for the privacy the room offers because I don’t really want to be interrupted by people wanting to talk football with me.
It would have been ideal to meet off campus, honestly, but because it’s a job for her, I guess she needs to do it at the library so she can report her time accurately.
Chelsea’s sitting at the table, head down, writing something on a list. I tap on the door before I walk in so I don’t startle her.
“Hey,” I say as I open the door.
She looks up at me. Her gaze sparkles when she sees me, and her chest rises with a quick inhale. “Hey, Bo. How’s it going?”
“Good. You?” I ask her, then set the tray on the table. “I brought you a vanilla chai and a few cookies.”
She sets her pen down and reaches over for the drink, watching me. “That’s so nice of you. Thank you.”
“Not a problem.” I pull out the chair across from her, set my backpack on the table, and sit down and fold my hands in front of me.
“So, how are we doing this? Do I just go over my homework with you and we talk about it? I’ve never had tutoring before, so I’m not really sure what to do here.
” I open my hands and gesture to her notebook.
She smiles softly, looking at me thoughtfully.
“Yeah, we’ll review your notes from class, and I’ll come up with some questions that could potentially be on your next quiz.
I already have your syllabus from the professor and her notes from class this week, so I’ve started writing some questions for you.
” She taps her pen on her notebook. “But before we get started, I have to ask.”
“Okay … ask me anything.” I smile back at her.
“Columbus, huh?” She leans forward and crosses her arms on the table.
I groan and tip my head back. “Yep.”
“How has that never been brought up before? Does anyone know that’s your name?” A small giggle-snort comes out.
“Hey, are you making fun of my name?” I tease.
“Absolutely not. I was just surprised when I saw the name on your class roster. I can’t believe that’s never come up on TV before either.” She smirks.
“Honestly, I don’t know how more people don’t know, but I’ve never introduced myself to anyone, ever, with my full name.
And when I started school, my parents must have told my teachers to call me Bo because no one ever calls me Columbus, except for my mom’s family.
” I shake my head but smile. It’s not that I’m embarrassed.
Because I’m not. It’s just different, and it doesn’t roll off the tongue as easily as Bo does.
“So, is it a family name then?” She watches me.
“Yeah, it’s my great-grandfather and grandfather’s name. I’m the only grandson, so here we are. Actually, I’m the only boy on both sides of the family.”
“That’s a lot of expectation to live up to on its own, I would imagine. And you’re the oldest in your family?” She takes a sip of her coffee, then picks up a cookie and breaks off a piece.
“I’m the oldest, yes. And the expectation right now is that I pass this class so I can have a future,” I joke. Sort of. I don’t mind talking about myself, but I also don’t want to run out of time to go over what we need to do.
“Right. Sorry. Okay, back to it. Do you handwrite your class notes or do you use an app?” She brushes off the cookie crumbs on her hand with the other.
I grimace. “I usually record them, and then it, like, transcribes them for me to review. Honestly, I haven’t looked at my notes for that class yet. Sorry.”
“That’s no problem. We’ll go over it together, but just so we’re clear, I’m not doing the work for you.” She picks up her pen and points it at me.
I place my hand on my chest. “I would never ask you to. I’m not afraid of putting in the work.” I wink at her.
“Good to know.” She smiles, then clears her throat. “Okay, so let’s get to it. You only have an hour and a half before you need to leave for practice, right?”
I look at my watch, then pull out my phone from my backpack to set my timer so I know when we need to start wrapping up. Because the truth is, I could sit here all day and hang out with her and lose track of time completely. “Yeah, do you think we’ll have time to get through all of it?”
“Oh, yeah. There’s not a ton to go over here. I really just want to see where you are in terms of understanding the material.” She flips through a few pages of her notebook. “Do you think it’s just a lack of interest in the class?”
“Maybe. I’m not really sure.” I shrug and pull out my notebook and pen. “I’ve just never really been into overanalyzing feelings and whatnot.”
“That’s not uncommon for men actually. And specifically, athletes, so I thought about that a little and came up with an idea.
We’ll incorporate sports into the lessons so it’s more relatable to you.
Because it’s not really all about feelings; it’s more about how to process and understand the information that your brain is receiving and the factors that influence it.
Does that make sense?” She studies my face.
I nod. “Yeah, that makes total sense. I guess I didn’t really think about it from that perspective.
I hear psychology and automatically think that we’re going to dig into feelings and emotions.
And it’s not that I minimize my or others’ feelings.
I just have always been able to compartmentalize it a little easier than some, I guess. ”
“Interesting. Well, I’m curious about how your mind works, so let’s get started.”
She takes a drink of her chai, and then we do just that.
An hour later, we’ve finished going through my notes and hers, but neither of us seems to be in a hurry to leave. And I want to get to know her better.
“So, Chelsea, tell me more about you. I know you’re from Florida. Were you born and raised there?” I ask.
She nods somewhat cautiously. “I am, and, yes, I was born and raised there too.”
“What part of Florida? I’ve only been there a few times, so I don’t really know anywhere, except Miami, Tampa, and Jacksonville.”
“I’m from Naples, on the southwest coast.” She’s pretty short on her responses, not giving me a lot, but she doesn’t seem mad that I’m asking.
“I haven’t been there. Is it nice?” I reach over and take the last little piece from the second cookie.
“Ah, yeah, it’s nice. Hot, humid, beachy. Typical Florida. A lot of wealthy people live there. It’s referred to as the Beverly Hills of the East Coast or something.” She lifts one shoulder and smirks.
“The humidity in Florida is a killer. So, what does your dad do?”
I’m curious only because Chelsea doesn’t come across as a spoiled rich kid. But when I look at her, she seems uncomfortable, shifting in her seat.
“Um, I was raised by my aunt. She’s a pediatrician. We’re not rich, rich like some of the kids I went to school with, but she has a very successful practice. She’s the best pediatrician in Florida, in my opinion, not that I’m biased or anything.” She tilts her head, smiling.
As much as I want to ask more about why she was raised by her aunt, I won’t. Today. I remember a woman and a younger girl with her when she moved into the apartment last year, but I assumed it was her mom because we weren’t introduced. “What’s your major?”
“I’m prelaw. Walker has one of the best programs for prelaw studies.”
“That’s cool. I didn’t know that about the prelaw program.” I nod. “You have a sister, right? Your aunt and sister … they were here when you and Noelle moved in last year?”
She smiles genuinely then and nods. “I have a little sister, who I guess isn’t so little anymore. She’s turning eighteen next week.”
“Eighteen, huh? Big birthday.”
I watch as she starts to pack up her bag, but halfway through, she pauses, her hand resting on the zipper. She exhales through her nose, eyes flicking down, like she’s debating whether to tell me something. Finally, she looks back up.
“It is. I’m going to go home this weekend to celebrate. I’ll be back early on Sunday though, so it’s a quick trip.”
“So, you’ll miss our first game of the season?” I’m disappointed she won’t be there. I don’t have the right to be disappointed, but I am nonetheless. “That’s a bummer.”
“Yeah, I know. I don’t have student tickets anyway, so I probably wouldn’t have gone. No offense.” She lifts her shoulder.
“None taken. But whenever you want to come to a game, say the word. I can get you tickets. I’m sure you could go with Charlie and Noelle too, right?”