Page 6 of Unloved

“Every word,” Rodger sighs, rubbing his eyes and sinking into a chair at the group table in the center of our circle of desks.

“He used to pull that shit with me all the time. That’s why I dumped him off on you last year,” Tyler says, shoving Rodger lightly as he moves toward his own workspace.

“I can’t work with that guy anymore,” Rodger says, mumbling into his hands as he rubs his face and combs back through his messy dark hair. “I had him all last semester, and this summer has killed me. Please, Ro, take him off my hands.”

I bite my lip for a moment, sliding my hip against the counter and resting the papers atop it. “Summer is about to close—and besides, I think I have a full stack for fall already.”

Tyler hands out coffees from a tray, and I eye him the entire time. When he spots me looking, he rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry, I didn’t know what you’d want.”

I order the same exact thing every time, no matter the weather—an iced dirty chai—and we’ve been dating for years, but I give a light smile.

“It’s fine. I’ll grab one at work.”

“I figured.” He smiles, walking over and pressing me into the counter. Another kiss before he straightens up. “No way she’ll take it.”

“Ro’ll take it. She’s the best tutor we have—better than all of us, right?” Mark—another tutor, and Tyler’s closest friend here—says, stretching and spinning in his swivel chair at his desk.

It’s not a compliment. In fact, it’s the opposite.

If I’m asking questions, then I’m trying to get help or sympathy. I’m weak. But if I’m confident in my skills, then I think I’m better than everyone else.

“I have more students this semester than I know what to do with. And I don’t specialize in dyslexia or dyscalculia.”

“He’s got ADHD, too,” Rodger says unhelpfully.

“Can’t be that hard.” Tyler smirks, leaning to look at the papers I’ve now started to spread across the counter. “Jesus Christ. He knows how to read, right? Some of these copy-paste paragraphs aren’t even, like, in the same universe of relatability.”

I grab a cinnamon bagel off the table, a gift from our head professor, I’m sure, and start smothering it with cream cheese as I lookback at a few of the more recent papers. It’s almost like whoever it is isn’t trying.

“A hundred bucks says he doesn’t know how to read,” Mark says before his eyes scan me and he laughs. “A thousand if Ro takes him and he passes the semester above a 2.75.”

“I didn’t say—”

“I’ll take that,” Tyler shouts over me, reaching to grab Mark’s hand. “I’ll raise another thousand that he tries to fuck her first.”

“Tyler,” I choke out, eyebrows at my hairline. “Don’t be gross.”

He shrugs, but there’s something terrifying in the smile still spread across his face.

“Wait till you see who it is,” he says to me before turning to the boys around him. “No way she even takes it when she sees the name—”

Whatever he says next is drowned out underneath the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears. I almost spit out the bite of bagel already in my mouth, which is suddenly impossible to chew.

Matthew Fredderic.

He might as well be a mythical creature to all of us. They might talk about him like he’s the dirt beneath the soles of their newly purchased loafers, but for four years they’ve envied him as much as I’ve inexcusably pined over him.

Me and over half the campus.

I push back from the table, silently begging whatever higher power exists that my inadvertent reaction to him—perpetual blushing—doesn’t happen right now. I’ll never hear the end of it.

I spin back toward Tyler and the entire staff room.

“I’m not—”

“Come on, Ro. He’s not going to bite.”

“Yeah,” Tyler says, barely restraining the laughter in his eyes. “He’s gonna try to put his dick in her.”

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