Playing Hard to Get(20)

I have a fifteen-minute break between classes so I settle my ass on a bench just outside the building where my next class is, scrolling through the university app on my phone. I log into my portal and check out my class list, clicking on my English class to see exactly what I need to do. Yep, there it is. I have to write a short essay answering at least three of the seven questions listed in the assignment.

Fuck me running, I haven’t even started reading the book yet.

“Why do you look so stressed out?”

I glance up to find Cam standing there, frowning at me.

“That stupid English class,” I admit, launching into a brief description of what just happened between me and my newest nightmare, Professor Johnson.

“You should get a tutor,” Cam suggests when I’m done complaining. “They even have a scheduler on the app now. You choose your subject, they give you a list of tutors available and the open times they can meet with you, and that’s it. You’re done. You’ve got help coming once or twice a week, whatever you need.”

“I don’t know.” It’s hard to admit to people—strangers—that I don’t always catch on as quickly as others do. That I need help.

But it’s probably better getting a tutor than going this alone, struggling the entire way and barely passing. Or worse...

Not passing at all.

“Don’t let this fuck with your head. You’re trying to do well at school this semester, right?” When I nod, Cam continues, “Well, then you need to utilize every tool available to ensure you’ll get solid grades, especially with those classes you struggle with.”

I know Cam is right. It’s like it was meant to be, for me to run into him, so he can say this stuff to me.

“Fine. I’ll get a tutor,” I say, reluctantly.

“Trust me when I say I think it’ll help you.” Cam waves a hand at my phone. “Look it up. Make an appointment. Oh, and if the first one doesn’t work out, you can always reschedule with another.”

I reopen my portal and start searching. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

Cam says his goodbyes before making his way to class, while I sit there and kill the last few minutes before my next class starts, trying to figure out the tutor appointment thing. I scan the list of names, bypassing all the guys. I don’t need some nerd trying to explain to me what I have to do. Or what if he’s a football fan and just wants to talk game strategy and go over stats?

No, thank you.

Of course, it might not be smart to go with a female either. What if they’re a total fan in the other way and just want to flirt? I like flirting, but I need to get serious.

I need to pass this class. I want to do better than a C, but I’ll be happy with that kind of grade, if that’s all I can muster. Beggars can’t be choosers.

There’s a short list of tutors who specialize in reading problems including dyslexia, and I scan those names, stopping at Joanna Sutton. I frown, thinking of Jo Jo at the bookstore. Could it be her? Damn, I wish they had photos next to their names, so I could know for sure. I like her, but not necessarily in a sexual way. She means business. She isn’t impressed by me at all. I got her smiling and even laughing a little bit today, but I threw my all into flirting with her. It’s as if once I decided I’m not going to hook up with girls, I’ve become the world’s biggest flirt.

I need to calm my shit down, especially if Joanna Sutton just so happens to be bookstore Jo Jo.

I probably couldn’t be so lucky.





Practice was a slog thanks to the heat. We kept fucking up and the coaches kept making us run, which only made us even more tired. By the end, we were all snapping at each other and I was glad as hell to get away from all of them.

I’m grumpy. The confrontation with my English professor didn’t help. What a bitch. But I’ve run into this kind of thing before. Some of the university’s instructors get all pissed off that I’m a successful player on the football team because they believe we get special favors.

Here’s where I admit that sometimes we do. Professors will forgive us for missing class or being late with an assignment every once in a while. Some professors are more forgiving than others, that’s for sure. I try not to take advantage of it, but sometimes, they make it so hard not to.

Professor Johnson isn’t going to cut me any breaks. That much is clear from the way she treated me earlier. The moment I get back to my place, I’m holed up in my room, my laptop open on my desk, waiting for me to answer the assigned questions. I’m scanning the book, trying to absorb the words on the page, but I’m so tired.

I’m completely lacking focus.

Tossing the book on my desk, I grab my phone to see if I have any notifications. Nothing on social media. No texts from anyone.

Though I do have a notification from the tutor scheduler.

I open it up, reading what it says.



Congratulations! Your first meeting with your new tutor Joanna Sutton is confirmed! It’s scheduled for 2 p.m. Thursday at the campus library, meeting room 226. If you need to make any changes or cancel the appointment, please do so by responding to this message.



The only reason I’m not canceling this session is because I want to see who Joanna Sutton is. That’s it. Otherwise, I’d already be trying to bail. I know myself. I don’t want to do any of this.