The Boy Who Has No Belief (Soulless 7)

“We’re part Greek, so we go every year.”

I didn’t know that. But Emerson was gorgeous, so I guess it wasn’t that surprising.

“The boy I like was there with his family…” She pulled out her pencil and sharpened it.

She just told me she liked a boy, and I had no idea what to do with that information. “Did you tell your mom?”

She shrugged. “She kinda figured it out because I kept staring at him. She told me to go talk to him, but I wouldn’t. We’ve only talked to each other a couple times, so we aren’t really friends.”

I wasn’t going to give her advice about boys, so I didn’t say anything.

She put her pencil sharpener back into her bag then opened her notebook. “Do you like my mom?”

I stilled at the question.

She pulled out her worksheet then looked at me when I didn’t answer the question.

Now I was put on the spot. “Of course. She’s a great assistant and a great friend.” I probably was reading too much into it and misunderstood what she asked.

“I mean, do you like her? I won’t tell her.”

Shit.

She continued to stare at me.

“Why do you ask that?”

She shrugged. “I think she likes you, so…” She pushed the worksheet toward me.

I didn’t look at it. “What makes you think she likes me?”

“I don’t know…the way she talks about you. And she talks about you a lot.”

“Well, I’m her boss, and we spend a lot of time together.”

“Yeah, but…she just sounds different when she talks about you. I can’t explain it.” She went back to staring at me.

Her intelligence and intuition were now biting me in the ass. “Let’s get started.” I pulled her worksheet closer to me and sidestepped the topic altogether.Lizzie’s confidence made a big difference in her education. Now that she actually thought she could do well, she put in more effort, listened to me better, and of course, that was reflected in her work.

She was killing it.

“Look at that.” I handed her the worksheet I’d created for her, my grade at the top. “Perfect score.”

She smiled and took it back from me. “Dude, I never thought I would be good at math.”

“Dude?” I asked with a slight chuckle.

“Sorry. I mean, Derek.”

“No, it’s fine. I just haven’t been called that in a long time.”

“Should I call you Dr. Hamilton?”

I released a scoff. “No, please don’t ever call me that.”

She smiled, like my humility was endearing to her. “I’m not good at science either… Can you help me with that?”

I barely had time to do anything, but I would never deny a student who asked for help. “Of course. What kind of science class are you in?”

“Life science. It’s mostly biology, like mitosis and stuff like that.”

“Biology is all about memorization. I never cared for it in school because it’s applied differently. Chemistry and physics were more interesting to me.”

“God, I hope I don’t have to take either of those in high school.”

I gave her a sympathetic look.

“No…”

“You’re gonna have to take both if you want to go to college.”

“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes back and sighed.

“But you can do it, Lizzie. Look, you just said you always sucked at math, and now you’re awesome at it. Science will be no different. I can help you anytime.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I wish you were my teacher for everything.”

That was one of the best compliments I’d ever received. It made me continue to question my stance on interns at work. I didn’t want to spend the time babying anyone, but when I tutored Lizzie, it was fulfilling. When I did problems during office hours with my students, it was fulfilling also. Maybe I could squeeze a little more time out of my life to do a little more. “I’m also here if you have questions.”

She pulled out her phone. “Can I have your number?”

I had no problem giving it to her, but then I thought about Emerson. “Ask your mom first. If she says yes, she can give you my number.”

“Cool.” She set her phone down.

We were finished with her lesson and she finished her worksheet on her own, so she packed up her things and waited for Emerson to fetch her.

I didn’t know what to do with her, so I continued to sit there.

She looked out the window and drummed her fingers. Then she turned to me. “You’re a writer, too, right?”

I nodded. “I am.”

“Mom loves your books.”

“Yeah, she told me.”

“She’s been trying to get me to read them, but I’ve never gotten around to it. I’ll give it a try.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

“I didn’t know you could be both. You know, scientist and writer. Can’t you just be one or the other?”

“Says who?” I turned to her. “We’re taught to pursue one profession and then work at that profession until we retire. But life is long and we’re highly intelligent beings, so we have the time and intellect to do many things. I choose to be an aeronautical engineer, a professor, and a writer.”