“Great.” She picks up her backpack, slinging it over her shoulder.
“Wait, you don’t want to get started now?”
She glances over at me in surprise. “I thought you would have plans.”
“Why?”
“It’s Thursday night. Isn’t that usually college night at the clubs around here? That’s what Samantha said it is at Empire at least.”
“Yeah, it’s college night, but why would you assume that’s how I choose to spend my time?”
She appears startled. “I... I guess that was pretty presumptuous of me. It’s just, you’re very attractive.” She clears her throat, thumping on her chest a couple of times. “I thought that’s where you would go to meet women.”
I don’t know why the presumption that I go out trolling clubs on college night rankles me, but it does, even though I’ve done it plenty of times before. But that was in years past. I’ve turned over a new leaf. “I don’t go out to clubs to meet women.”
She tilts her head to the side in curiosity. “They come to you then?”
“What? I mean, yeah, but I don’t do that anymore.”
She purses her lips in thought. “Baseball players have groupies, right?”
“Who told you I’m a baseball player?” Was. I was a baseball player. I’m not one anymore.
“I did a little digging on you,” she admits. “I wanted to find out if you were the right guy to do this with. If you had the experience I needed.”
My brows raise before I can stop myself. “I wasn’t aware Samantha knew that much about me.” I’ve only spoken to the girl a handful of times.
“Not her. Someone else I know.” She shifts in her seat, looking guilty, and my internal warning alarm sounds.
“Who?”
“Darla Johnson?” she squeaks tentatively, like she’s asking instead of telling.
I sigh, rubbing my temples in an effort to stave off the immediate headache that’s formed. “How in the hell do you know Darla?”
“She’s a junior too, and we’ve somehow ended up having classes together every semester. We’re not friends or anything, I guess more like acquaintances. Anyway, I figured if there’s anyone who could tell me about a guy, it’d be her.”
She’s right about that. The girl certainly made her way through the baseball team. “Why didn’t you just ask her about what to do with this guy? I’m sure she could give you some pointers.”
She purses her lips. “I suspect Darla and I don’t exactly have the same dating style.”
You mean hounding someone incessantly until you finally give in just to make her shut up?
I keep the thought to myself and ask instead, “So apparently whatever she said about me met your standards?”
She nods in a businesslike way, morphing into that scientist persona again. “You have your choice of girls to pick from, yet you’re discerning in your selection. Not too many that you’d be considered a player, but not a monk or too picky either. It’s been noted that women like you, you have an easy rapport with them, and you don’t have a trail of bitter exes behind you.”
She straightens her glasses on the bridge of her nose, something about the action more professorial than pure nerd. “You clearly know what you’re doing and respectful with those you’re with. And that’s exactly what I need.”
I’m not sure how to respond. I had no idea she’d put this much thought into it, assigned this much meaning to her choice of me as her tutor. A small part of me is flattered, the larger part... embarrassed. Is that my reputation? What others see me like? Just a guy who can show a girl a good time?
She’s silent, peering at me closely when her face falls. “I’ve offended you. I’m sorry-”
“No, there’s nothing to be sorry about. Everything you said is true.” Better than being seen as some seducer, I guess.
I stand and grab my bag, suddenly wanting to be out of here and away from her all-knowing gaze.
She stands too, panic crossing her face. “Where are you going?”
“I’ll probably hit Empire tonight. It’s college night after all.” I give her a rueful smile, sarcasm bleeding through despite myself. But really, it’s not her fault for pointing out the facts. It’s mine for not wanting to hear them. Sure, I’ve decided to start fresh this year, but that doesn’t mean everything that happened in the past doesn’t follow me too.
I pause before leaving and glance over, her gaze sorrowful. Well, now I feel like shit. “Listen... thanks for tutoring me. I’ll look over your list and try to come up with a game plan. Sound good?”
She nods, wringing her hands together in front of her. I automatically reach out to stop her, not wanting her to work herself up over this.
Her fingers are like icicles, startling me. “Jesus, why are you so cold? It’s eighty degrees out.”
“Yeah, but we’re indoors. Buildings are always kept too cool for me.” I finally take in the fact she’s wearing long jeans and a sweater when most of the girls here are in shorts and a tank top.
“Here.” I take both her hands in mine, her delicate fingers soft against my calloused palms. Even after not playing baseball for months now, it seems my hands still want to stay rough. I rub her hands between mine gently, hoping the friction will warm them up.
I glance up, her eyes wide as she watches our joined hands, looking like she’s holding her breath. “Sorry,” I tell her in a rush, immediately letting go, both her hands flopping down against her thighs in an uncoordinated movement. “I wasn’t thinking-”
“No, it’s fine,” she interrupts, talking over me.
We’re both silent for a moment, her eyes darting back and forth between my hands and face.
“I guess I forgot we only met today.” I jam my palms in my pockets so they won’t be tempted to reach out again and touch her smooth skin, to see if I really did warm her up.
What the fuck are you thinking? She just said she’s never touched a guy and now you’re grabbing at her?
“Really, it’s okay,” she assures me. “We’re past formalities at this point. It wasn’t exactly a conventional meeting.”
“Um, no,” I laugh at her understatement.
She crosses her arms over her chest, hiding her hands. “Are you actually going to Empire?”
“No,” I admit. “I was an ass for saying that.”
“No, you weren’t,” she says, seriousness all over her face. “Sometimes I say things without realizing how it can come across to others, especially those I don’t know well. I get better with time, I promise,” she smiles softly. “But if you do go in the future, maybe I could come with you? To- to practice or something?” Her voice wavers, clearly terrified at the thought, but I have to give her credit for wanting to try anyway.
“Let’s give it a few lessons. We have to work on your skills first.”
“Okay,” she grins, revealing a slight gap between her two front teeth.
She quickly drops the grin, though, when she sees me staring. She bends down to grab her backpack again and heaves it over her shoulder, scooting past me. “See you next week for tutoring.”