Page 15 of I Knew You Were Trouble

“How much?” he asks, and I perk up at his sudden change of attitude. He’s considering it, so I don’t want to lowball him.

Dad paid private tutors around two-hundred a lesson, depending on what the subject was and how long it was taught. That should be fair for a good ol’ lesson in rebellion.

“Two hundred.”

He scoffs and turns. “Pass.”

“Hey!” I yell at his back. “Two hundred a lesson is completely fair if you ask me,” I spit, anger rising up my spine. What does he want? I may have money, but that doesn’t mean I’ll be taken advantage of.

He stops dead in the dark hallway, his eyes slowly meeting mine over his shoulder. “Two hundred a lesson?”

“That’s what I said.”

“I thought you were saying two hundred total.”

“Well, at two hundred a lesson, three lessons a week, that would be twenty-four hundred for the month, which is all I’m asking for.”

He makes a noise that sounds an awful lot like he’s choking on his own spit. A few more teens pass through the hallway, and he doesn’t move an inch to the left or right, making the group part around him like the Red Sea.

“You… you got that kind of money?”

“I’m good for it, if that’s what you’re asking.” I tap my hat, my fingers shaking at the possibility of him actually taking me up on the offer. “I can pay you half now, half when the month is over.”

I can’t see the details of his face, and I really wish I could. I wish I knew what the heck he was thinking. Does he think I’m absolutely nuts? Honestly, I don’t even care if he does think that.

He takes a step toward me, his face coming into the dim light. His lips are slightly parted, his breath coming out in fast wisps. His eyes are on me, not leaving as he makes his way to just within reach.

His shirt is untucked. I’m trying to be okay with that.

“Why?” he asks.

“Huh?”

He takes another step toward me. I stand my ground. “Why is this so important to you?”

I dart my gaze to another group passing. I’m not one for lying, even when the truth is so darn embarrassing. I can already hear Pete’s laughter once I admit what happened. But I suppose as my teacher, he should know what he’s up against.

“You know Zach?”

“The guy you attempted to woo, yes.”

His voice is teasing, and I try to use that to bolster my confidence. “He’s the model for my art class, and I like him… you know that already… and we’ve been painting his upper body mostly, since that’s where his tattoos are and my teacher was like, well, let’s get into detail painting. I love detail painting for sure, and with how many tattoos he’s got, it’s a good assignment, and I’m not complaining about the art process or anything, but I’m not too awesome at the realism stuff—”

“Get to the point, Candace,” he says with a smile, and I stop my babbling and take a deep breath.

“Up until last night, we were painting waist up. Then Zach came in with a robe on, and our teacher said—”

“Ah…” Pete nods knowingly, his eyes closing for a brief second. “Have you seen a naked man before, sweet innocent Candace?”

I smack him again. “Yes. Kind of.”

“Meaning?”

“I saw the end of Midsommar.” My face twists as I remember the movie I was promised was not a horror by Amber, but it totally was. “The thing was flopping all over the place.” I wave my arm around like the penis did in the movie, nearly knocking the 3D glasses off some girl walking by.

His shoulders move in silent laughter, and I squeeze in tighter by the wall.

“Anyway.” I lower my voice. Pete leans in to hear. He smells strongly of floor cleaner. “I kind of ran out of the class before I saw him—”

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