Tutoring the Delinquent
In a relative daze, I start to walk off the elevator, but one of the guards stays me with a hand on my elbow. “I think we should wait somewhere else.”
He’s probably right, but…this is my boyfriend’s world. Should I get used to it? I understand he’s protective of me, but I can’t always be sheltered in the background. “I would rather stay here, if that’s okay.”
The guards seem uneasy, so I step off the elevator before one of them stops me. Someone hands me a red solo cup of beer and I laugh, taking a sip. The crisp night air combined with the magic of victory is wonderful. Knowing I’ll be home with my boyfriend soon is equally incredible. I’m just about to take my first sip of beer when one of the players stops in front of me, his jersey soaked in champagne and sweat from the game.
“There she is. The unsung hero of this game.” He turns to the crowd of celebrating fans. “Hey everyone! This is the girl who tutored Xavier. She’s the reason he passed the test so he could play tonight. Give it up!”
I’m stunned when they cheer for me. Loudly. So loudly that I fall back a step.
“Mr. Xavier made it clear he didn’t want her speaking with anyone outside of the family box,” says the head of my security team.
“Ah, I’m one of his receivers,” says the player, waving him off. “That makes me family.” Ignoring the continued protests from my guard, the receiver smiles back down at me. There is something in his expression that makes my stomach feel hollow, but it’s probably just me. I’m still not used to speaking with strangers. “So are you going to continue tutoring Teddy?”
“If he needs it,” I say, cradling the solo cup to my chest. “But it…i-it might be a conflict of interest now—”
“Since you’re dating?”
His eyes are on the ring around my neck. When they travel lower to my breasts, I tamp down on the urge to squirm. “Yes. Since we’re dating.”
“Yeah,” he says slowly. “He scooped you right off the market before any of us poor assholes got a chance to shoot our shot.” His gaze meanders down to my thighs, lingering on my stockings. “Only the best for our superstar, right?”
The hint of bitterness in his tone keeps me silent. I don’t know how to respond.
He leans in, dropping his voice to a whisper. “But we both know it’s not real, don’t we?”
Pins and needles prickle my scalp. “What do you mean?”
“Teddy told us.” When I say nothing, he looks at me like I should know. Like we’re in on some secret together. “That he’s dating the smart girl for his image. So he’ll look good for the scouts. He needed something to convince them he’d settled down after all the delinquent shit he pulled. And here you are.” Surveying my body openly, he licks his lips. “Although I’m sure he’s having one hell of a time…pretending.”
I don’t realize I’ve dropped the red cup until beer splashes up onto my shins.
My stomach is in a puddle on the ground along with the drink, my ears ringing, eyes stinging with such intensity, I can barely see what’s around me.
No. No, it’s not true.
Is it?
Does Teddy want to marry me so soon because he’ll have an easier time being scouted? Was I naïve to think he just loved me so much he couldn’t wait?
“You know,” the player continues. “I’d appreciate you so much more than him.”
Those words bounce right off. Just noise. Through gritty eyes, I survey the crowd. I look at the girls who are obviously more suited to dating a famous quarterback. Confident, capable of talking to strangers without stuttering. Was I stupid to believe this relationship with Teddy was authentic? It seems real. More real than anything. But what do I know? I’ve never been in a relationship before in my life.
Humiliation turns my skin red. People are staring at me because I spilled my drink and I’m making no move to pick it up or clean myself off.
I have to get out of here.
I have to get away.
Turning on a heel, I dash for the tunnel leading to the perimeter of the field, taking my guards by surprise. The audience has cleared out by now, so there is no crowd to slow me down on my way to the parking lot. I dash through those lingering behind and despite the shouting of my name in the distance, I don’t stop running until I’m off campus, my heart shattered in my chest.
* * *
Teddy
By the time I get finished with the post-game interviews, I’m fucking frantic.
I can see from the field that the family box is empty. Lights out. The stands have cleared.
There is only one place where people are congregating—the home team sideline—and I swear to Christ, if the security team allowed Iris down here, I’m going to tear a hole in the sky. There is alcohol and groupies riding on the shoulders of my teammates. Even the coaches are acting like fools, singing and guzzling champagne straight from the bottle. When I arrive at the impromptu gathering, everyone goes wild, cheering, slapping me on the back and taking pictures of me with their phones. But I don’t give a shit about any of it. I’m glad we won the game. I’m relieved I lived up to expectations and I feel some closure with my father’s death, but the only person I want to celebrate with is Iris.