Page 11 of Tutoring the Bad Boy
“Other than tutoring, it’s smart to stay away from Ginny. Even if you still believed in marriage and all that, she’s not the one you want to mess with you.”
Nodding, I say, “No kidding.”
My lips are saying that, but that’s about the only part of my body on board. There’s something about her that…I can’t even put it into words. That first day in the library in Groves, I expected her to just believe Mrs. Yates wanted to fail me, but she didn’t. She’d said it was unfair. I’d taken it as her feeling sorry for me, but after our tutoring session, I don’t think that’s true.
My phone dings, and I grab it, hoping it’s Ginny. A truly stupid thing to even think. With all the looks I get when I’m out, I’ll be in college before dating is even on the radar.
I check the number, and to my surprise, it is Ginny.
Ginny: Just wanted to check on you. Have you done the assignment? I know I said text me if you need me, but I think maybe you’re scared you’ll get in trouble with my mom.
“Who’s that?” asks Chris.
“Telemarketer,” I reply, jumping up and running to the restroom where I lock the door. Leaning my hip against the counter, I smile. She’s thought about me, and it makes me feel weird. Not in a bad way, just in a way I’m not familiar with.
Me: I wasn’t scared of your mom.
Okay, maybe I was a little, but I honestly had no questions. The sonnet was one that looked pretty easy. I check the time on the phone.
Me: Aren’t you supposed to be playing volleyball.
Ginny: …
The three dots drum like fingers as she types, then they stop and start again. Four more times the process is repeated until a text finally pops up.
Ginny: Yeah.
Me: Is everything okay?
From everything I’ve heard, Ginny isn’t someone you want to meet on a volleyball court, but this text is giving me the feeling that she’s upset.
I don’t wait for a response.Don’t tell me you’re scared.I immediately add,I’m kidding.
Ginny: Okay.
I blink at the response. Okay? That wasn’t the answer I was expecting. I thought she’d tell me to stick it or some other wise answer. Thinking she might be scared catches me off guard. Mostly because I don’t like the idea of her feeling like that. Not when she seems to care…at least about my grades.
Me: Anything I can do?
Ginny: …
Ginny: College recruiters are out in the audience. My mom has my entire future hinged on my performance as a player. It’s like that’s the only way I can get a scholarship or something, even though I make good grades.
I can feel the pressure in the sentence. Plus, it’s something I understand, although I’ve reacted to it differently. What would it be like had I gone along with my dad’s wishes? Would my life be different? Sure, I’m not into sports, but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t have interfered with other aspects of my life.
Me: Act like they aren’t there. I mean, from what I’ve heard, you’re unbeatable. It should be a cakewalk for you.
Ginny: Yeah.
Ginny: Spike time. Gotta go.
Rubbing my knuckles along my jaw, I stare at the response. She sounded off. Yes, I know, I couldn’t hear her voice, but I feel it. But what do I know? I don’t know her. I shake my head, quickly flushing the toilet before going back to my room.
“So a telemarketer? Or a girl?” Chris grins.
“You heard the toilet flush.” I’m not telling him it was Ginny. I don’t need him trying to dissect our texts or offer an opinion on her. “I’m tired of hanging out here. You want to go watch the volleyball game?”
Chris's eyebrows raise. “Volleyball? Are you sick?”
