11. Tutor

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I walk into the anatomy lecture hall to find just Delilah in her seat. There's about ten minutes until class starts, and I'm sort of relieved that Olivia isn't in class yet. After yesterday, I could sense a bit of lingering, awkward tension between us after she notified me of Adrianna's lipstick still on my neck. I've been mortified ever since.

I almost didn't show up to class today, but I figured that was the cowardly thing to do, and it could potentially worsen the situation.

"Hey, Dee," I softly greet Delilah, who has her nose shoved in a textbook.

"Hey," she says, peeling her eyes away from her book to greet me properly. "How are you?"

I give her a shrug of indifference. "Alright."

She frowns. "You didn't do so hot on the test, did you?"

I'm taken aback by her blunt question. "Uhh..." I stall awkwardly, scratching the back of my neck. "Not the best, I guess."

She nods. "Quinton was pretty insistent about it, and you quickly shoving your test in your backpack was kind of a giveaway," she admits with a wry smile.

At the mention of rat boy my fists involuntarily clinch. I knew he would be an asshole about it.

"So, how bad was it?" Delilah asks cautiously, surprisingly not in a condescending way. She asks out of genuine concern, like a friend would.

I let out a soft groan of agony and contemplate if I should tell her or not.

Sensing that I must be on the fence, she speaks up. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but just know I won't tell anyone," she says with all sincerity. "Especially not Quinton. I can tell you two don't necessarily... get along."

"You got that right," I mumble. After a few beats, I let out a sigh. "It wasn't necessarily a complete crash and burn, but let's just say there was some major damages," I confess, willing to trust her.

She purses her lips together and nods. "Well, you know who a great tutor is? Olivia." A small, knowing smile spreads across her face. "Just ask and she'll be more than willing to help you."

I try my best to suppress a smile. While that does seem tempting, a part of my ego is telling me not to ask her. But then again, it would be a good excuse to spend more time with her...

"I'll think about it," I tell Delilah, and she flashes me another knowing smile, one that says she knows I'll eventually cave and ask Olivia to tutor me.

We sit in silence for a few moments, more students filing in. I know I only have moments left, and something inside me can't bite back my curiosity, so I just come outright and ask Delilah. "Can I ask you something?"

Delilah carelessly shrugs a shoulder. "Go for it."

I twist in my seat to face her directly, one elbow resting on the back of my chair while the other is planted on the desk. "What's up with ra—Quinton," I quickly correct myself.

Delilah doesn't even flinch at my question, it's almost as if she's been expecting it. With a sigh, she looks over both shoulders before leaning in to whisper to me. Instinctively, I lean in to hear her and give her my undivided attention. Her lips twist to the side as she contemplates how to begin. "Quinton... he's got it bad for Olivia."

"I've gathered that much," I mutter and she shoots me a look that tells me to shut up and listen to the rest of what she has to say.

"He's had a big crush on her since freshman year, but Olivia has never reciprocated those feelings." She pauses, choosing her next words carefully. "But when I say Quinton has got it bad for Olivia, he's got it bad. As in, he dumped his girlfriend of four years when he thought he may have had a shot with Olivia."

"Whoa," I breathe out.

"Yeah," Delilah nods, clearly eager to finish her story before either one of them walks in. "He even had an engagement ring picked out for her, but then Olivia came along and poof,"—Delilah flicks her fingers animatedly—"he falls head over heels for her and his engagement falls out a ten story window and kisses the concrete of the sidewalk below. Hard."

Delilah shakes her head, frowning, looking lost in a memory for a moment. "Olivia didn't lead him on either," she says definitively, clearly defending her friend. "But she still blames herself." Delilah sighs, disheartened. "Olivia didn't know anything about his girlfriend because I think he made it a point to hide it from her. I told Olivia though when Quinton confessed to me that he had feelings for her. I told him not to peruse it, that Olivia didn't feel the same way, but he persisted.

"When Olivia told him she couldn't be with him... he had a complete meltdown. At one point, I honestly thought Olivia was going to cave and just date him because she felt so bad, but I told her that would only make the situation worse. Not to mention make her miserable."

My fists involuntarily clinch. I already knew rat boy didn't take Olivia's rejection well from what Olivia told me that day in the cafeteria, and that she felt bad about it, but I didn't know how bad the situation really was. How messed up he really is.

Delilah opens her mouth, as if to say more, but quickly snaps it shut as her eyes dart to the door.

I look over my shoulder to spot Olivia walking into the classroom. Her hair tie is trapped between her teeth as her hands work to quickly scoop up her hair to redo her ponytail. Once her hair is secured, her eyes travel up to meet mine. I take in a sharp breath, staring into those sweet, warm brown eyes that have imprints around them from lab goggles.

A small blush makes its way to her cheeks, and she slowly walks up the stairs to her seat.

"Hey, Finch," I say softly, treading lightly after yesterday, still sensing a bit of lingering tension.

"Hey." She gives me a small smile as I pull out her chair for her.

After all the new information I just found out, I can't help but stare at her, my heart hurting for her. I can't say I completely understand her situation—if Adrianna pulled something like that and I was in a similar situation as Olivia with rat boy, I don't think I'd blame myself, I'd say it was Adrianna's own damn fault—but I can see how she would feel guilty. Olivia is too sweet to have someone treat her that way and make her feel so guilty. That's why I have to seriously restrain myself when rat boy walks in.

Lecture goes by with a breeze, but I can tell something is wrong with Olivia. I can sense her gloomy mood. And it's not just the lingering tension from yesterday.

When our professor dismisses class, and we all begin to pack up, Delilah speaks up. "Hey, Liv, you're still willing to tutor people, right?" she asks, shooting me a secretive glance.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. Who needs help?" Olivia asks, looking up from shoving her binder into her powder blue backpack.

"Oh, just someone I know. I'm not totally sure if they're set on a tutor yet, but I'll let you know," Delilah says, flashing me another discreet look.

"Yeah, just let me know," Olivia says, slinging her backpack on. I can see it in her eyes that something is bugging her, her voice a bit dejected as well.

We all walk out of the lecture hall together, and eventually Delilah and rat boy have to veer off towards their next class. Olivia and I walk together in silence, and I glance at her frequently, able to tell she's mulling over something in that pretty little head of hers.

"Hey," I gently grab her elbow, stopping my stride. She spins around to face me. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she states, giving me an unconvincing smile.

"Finch," I begin.

"No, really, I'm fine," she says all too quickly, refusing to meet my gaze.

I sigh and silence floats between us.

A warm breeze passes, causing the tendrils of hair framing her face to wisp across her cheek. Without thinking, I reach up to tuck them behind her ear. It's then those big, vulnerable honey colored eyes peer up at me, nearly knocking the air out of my lungs.

"I wish you would tell me what's wrong," I whisper honestly, swiping my thumb across her cheek.

Surprisingly, she leans into my touch. Her eyes flutter closed for a moment as she slowly exhales through her nose. Those warm honey eyes open, the sun hitting them just right.

"It's just been a really rough day," she admits, voice tired. "The lab assistants didn't wash the test tubes so I couldn't do the original lesson planned for today, leaving me to scramble to come up with a last minute lesson plan. Then, I'm teaching all freshman who are still so immature. One kid started playing with the Bunsen burner and nearly caught the lab on fire," she says, getting more and more worked up with every word that passes her lips.

She presses her fingers to her eyes, clearly overwhelmed.

"Hey," I coo, immediately wrapping my arms around her and pulling her into my chest. I run my hand up and down her back in a soothing manor, wishing there was something I could do, something I could say, to make her feel better.

I rest my chin on top of her head, just holding her close, loving the feel of her in my arms.

"Want me to beat that kid's ass?" I ask in all seriousness, and I feel her shoulders shake.

I immediately think she's crying, and I pull away to asses her. When I finally see her face, I realize she's laughing.

"No," she says, through a string of silent giggles, her eyes sad but shining with appreciation and hilarity. "Thank you, though."

"Are you sure?" I ask, running my hands up and down her arms. "I have a whole football team behind me to take care of the little shit for you."

She holds back a laugh. "If I ever need your assistance, I'll let you know," she assures, and I can't help but smile at the light coming back to her eyes.

"Come with me," I say, grabbing her hand and linking our fingers together.

Her footsteps to follow me are hesitant at first, but eventually her stride matches mine. "Bronx, where are we going?" she asks, slightly gawking down at our conjoined hands.

"You'll see," I say, leading her across campus.

My hand tingles, mesmerized by how good it feels to have her hand fit in mine perfectly.

We finally reach the coffee shop and I hold the door open for her, making it a point to not let go of her hand just yet. The strong scent of coffee hangs in the air, and thankfully it's not too busy in here.

I lead us to the end of the line and look down at her quizzical face.

"Pick out whatever you want. It's my treat," I say, giving her hand a small squeeze.

Her eyes soften, looking at me for a few beats before darting to the menu. She cringes, her expression flooding with guilt. "I'm not really a coffee drinker," she timidly admits.

"That's okay. The pastry selection here is amazing. Girls love sweets when they're having a bad day, don't they?" 

Her bottom lip pokes out in an adorable pout. "Bronx, really, you don't have to do this," she insists.

"Hey,"—I give her hand another squeeze—"you had a bad day. I want to make you feel better. Now what would you like?" I ask as we get closer to the counter and stand in front of a display case, showcasing numerous sweets.

"Bronx," she begins to protest again.

"Sorry, I'm not on the menu, sweetheart, but if you really want a taste of me—ow!" I feign hurt, rubbing the center of my chest where she playfully hit me with her free hand because of my crude joke.

"Hi, how may I help you?" the barista behind the cash register greets us as soon as the person in front of us moves.

I look down at Olivia expectantly, and she shoots me a glare despite the grin trying to break across her face.

"I'll take the blueberry muffin," she tells the cashier.

"And I'll take a small cold brew with a double chocolate brownie," I say, knowing I'll need the coffee to get through practice later.

The cashier rambles off the total and I'm a bit bummed when I have to let go of Olivia's hand to take my card out of my wallet. Once I'm finished paying, I have Olivia go find a table while I wait for our orders.

"You don't like coffee?" I ask as soon as we get settled, taking a drink from my cup.

She shakes her head. "Not really. Plus, I've seen how wired it can make Delilah, so I don't know if my heart would be able to handle all the caffeine if I drank it frequently," she laughs.

I nod, pinching off a piece of my brownie as she munches on her blueberry muffin.

"Speaking of Delilah," I mention casually. "Were you serious when you said you'd tutor one of her friends?"

"Yeah."

I nod, suddenly finding interest in a chocolate chip that fell out of my brownie.

Come on, Bronx. Do it. Ask her!

I bite the inside of my cheek, my pride clawing at me to keep quiet.

Just do it you pussy!

How is it I can ask any girl to sleep with me, but the one girl I actually like I can't even ask her to tutor me?

Just think of all the extra time you'd get to spend with her, I try to persuade myself.

"Finch?" I ask.

"Hmm?"

"Would you... would you tutor me? In anatomy."

God I sound so pathetic.

"Sure," she says, taking the final bite of her muffin.

Sure?

Really? It was that easy?

"Really?" I ask.

"Yeah." She shrugs. "I'll be nice to have someone to study with."

I lean back in my chair, nodding. "Alright then. We're officially study buddies. Put it there, partner," I say, extending my arm to her across the table.

She lets out a small laugh, her hand fitting in mine once more to give me a firm handshake.


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