Jesse

I get to class early for once. Since Nate started tutoring me, I’ve actually had a reason to open my book. It hasn’t even felt like being tutored. It’s felt like studying with someone. Someone way smarter than me, but still. I’m kind of disappointed that we won’t be doing it anymore, but I get it. Nate is an academic. School is the most important thing to him, and he wants to get more than just a passing grade. I don’t want to get in the way of that.

When I sit in class, I don’t feel completely lost or bored or anxious like I want to escape. I’m not shitting myself that prof will pick on me, though I still don’t want her to.

I wait until the usual students who linger after class to speak to her have left. I can tell she’s surprised that I haven’t run out the second she called the end of class like I usually do.

“Hey, uh, I was just wondering if I could talk to you about my essay question.”

I think she’s going to tell me to come back during her office hours or something, but she puts her bag down and gives me her full attention.

“Sure, go ahead.”

I go through the plan I worked out with Nate and prof listens quietly, not giving anything away on her face, so I start to think maybe I’m fucking it up. But when I finish speaking, she smiles and tilts her head.

“, that sounds great, I see you’ve really been applying yourself, and it’s so early in the semester, you have plenty of time to do this.”

“I know prof…essor, I just thought about what you said in our meeting, and, I got someone to tutor me.”

“Oh, who?”

My face gets hot, “just the brother of one of my teammates, he’s a junior, and he doesn’t take this class, but he’s really smart.”

The more I talk, the hotter my face gets. Is that a smirk in the corner of prof’s lips?

“Well, whoever he is, he’s really brought out the best in you, well done .”

I’m beaming like an idiot when I leave the building, and all I want to do is text Nate and thank him. But when I do, he doesn’t reply. I remind myself not to be disappointed. He’s probably got his head in a book and won’t come up for air for hours. I smile, thinking I kind of like this about him. It’s the kind of dedication my dad would say I don’t have the capacity for.

I head back home, hoping I’ll have the place to myself so I can hit the books. It feels weird wanting to study.

I keep checking my phone, but there’s still no reply from Nate.