"READ chapters fifteen through twenty tonight," Professor Hilbert instructs as she finishes her lecture for the day. She steps back to her desk as she dismisses us from her class.

I fall back in my chair with a small defeated thud and look at the mess of notes in front of me with a touch of unwelcome uncertainty. I understand what my professor is speaking about. I can state the facts and definitions and the cases by heart. But applying them to the real-world discussions is where my brain begins to short-circuit.

The last couple quizzes we've taken I've ended up doing decent on considering how I started out, but what I truly struggle with is real world application. My mind is having trouble meshing together the two sides of the written law and an actual case. Because while the law is stone cold facts, it also changes and morphs every single day as new cases get tried and new defenses are put into use.

I gather my notes and organize them before I place them in a folder and put them in my backpack. I linger back behind the rest of the class until it's mostly emptied out. I don't want them to know I'm asking for help. I don't want them to think I'm weak and not cut out for this class or career.

"Professor Hilbert?" I question as I step forward towards her mahogany desk. Her wildly curly red hair sticks up in different directions and she has on a pink tinted lipstick today. She looks eccentric, but she's tough as nails and knows more about the law than most average undergrad professors. She was the New York assistant district attorney for a few years, and she worked in corporate law as well as defense. She's seen every side of the law in use and this class doesn't exist at most schools for a reason, and she's that reason. Binsfeld University is the best, which means we have the best.

Her eyes remain focused on her desk as she gathers her materials for the day and places them in her expensive leather messenger bag. "Yes, Jameson?" she questions casually.

I shift on my feet trying to work up the courage to ask her for help. To let my guard down and expose the small piece of myself I've trained to keep up for so many years. It's not something I ever do even if it means bettering myself. But I can't let my inner demons hold myself back from succeeding so I rip the Band-Aid and step up. "I was wondering if you had any studying tips or knew of a good tutor?" I ask though my words come out a bit hurried and awkward.

She lifts her gaze so her hazel eyes are locked on me. "You aren't doing bad in my class Ms. Davenport," she tells me with a touch of confusion clouding her expression.

I tongue the inside of my cheek to hold back the discomfort that flows through my veins. I'm not good at asking for help. "I'm not doing great either," I counter.

Her mouth purses as she ponders over her my words. "Okay," she sighs shocking me at how quickly she agreed. "I may know of a student who took this class last year, she is also currently enrolled, and has excelled in this course. I can reach out to her," she proposes with a tilt of her head.

Surprise floods my chest at how willing she is to help and I bite back the bright smile that wants to take over my face. "Thank you so much," I gush appreciatively.

My professor points a finger at me. "But no promises. She's a senior and very busy," she tells me.

I nod rapidly. "Of course," I agree. "Thank you," I repeat once again beyond grateful.

A touch of a smile grazes her lips. "Don't go telling students I do this all the time now," she says with a raised brow as she slings the leather bag over her shoulder.

"I won't," I agree with a faint chuckle.

She pauses and leans a hip against the side of her dark wooden desk. "I won't lie Jameson I see a lot of myself in you," she comments openly.

"Really?" I breathe stunned and honored by her words all at the same time.

Her arms cross over her lap as a content smile lifts her cheeks. "I loved the law so much when I first started out. I could memorize cases like the back of my hand in less time than my peers, but the real world is very different. And I quickly realized that certain parts didn't come as easy to me at first as it did for others," she explains and suddenly I don't feel so alone. "So I studied," she finishes.

"You studied," I repeat the words letting them roll off my tongue. I would've assumed everything came naturally to her, like my brother, with how incredibly smart she is.

She rises from the desk and takes a step towards me. "Harder than anyone. I was in those libraries day and night. But out of it came success, and creating my own position at an esteemed university such as this at the ripe young age of fifty," she says with strength and a touch of humor behind her words.

The fact that she worked her ass off and worked harder than anyone around her makes my chest swell with hope. Hope that what I'm doing isn't just going to lead me down the winding path to failure. Hope that my doubts are nothing more than a small chapter of my life. Hope that even though no one may have faith in me that I can do this all by myself.

My chin lifts. "I'm willing to put in the effort," I promise her. "I will study all day and night and every single day if I have to. I want this and I'm willing to work to achieve it," I tell her fiercely as the fire that grows within me.

Her painted lips lift in an approving smile. "I will talk to her today and try and set it up," she says before turning to walk out the door to her classroom.

♢

Jameson—

Tutor has agreed to meet with you on a trail basis. You are to meet her at the library at 8 tonight in block three. You have a reserved table there.

Professor Hilbert

My eyes scan the email over twice to be sure what I'm reading is real before an eager bolt jolts through me.

"Yes!" I shout excitedly jumping up from the worn couch in my apartment living room.

My roommate Annabelle who sits curled up in the chair next to me looks up from her laptop. Her dark eyebrows draw together in wonder at my unexplained outburst. "What's going on?" she inquires lifting her hands from her keyboard.

HGTV continues to play on in the background as I settle back into my seat. Though I can barely sit still as unbridled enthusiasm buzzes through my veins. "I got a tutor for Professor Hilbert's class," I admit truthfully to my friend.

To most people I would probably try and hide the assistance I'm going to receive, but with my roommate I never hide anything. She's one of two people in the entire world who knows everything about me. The real me.

Her eyes widen. "Wow, did she help you set it up?" she asks leaning forward instantly intrigued. She may not be a pre-law major like myself and her cousin Elizabeth, but Professor Hilbert is fairly well-known across campus.

"Yeah," I exhale my simple answer with an excited nod.

Annabelle closes her laptop. "Damn, she must really like you," she trails with shock evident in her voice. "She never helps anyone. It's sink or swim with her. Why do you think Elizabeth is waiting until next semester to even take her class," she tells me with an easy laugh as she relaxes back into the oversized chair.

"It's only on a trail basis," I inform her but I still can't help but feel eager. I always give my all when it comes to my goals, and failing is far from an option in my life. I've never been one keen on asking for help. Never one to show my weaknesses.

And I hate to admit anyone is right when it comes to my life, especially someone such as Preston Rothwell. But he was right when he told me my option was simple and to not let anyone hold me back.

So I'm not even letting myself hold me back. I'm stepping up to the plate and getting the help I need to succeed and crush everyone around me.

My roommate sets her laptop on the round coffee table in front of us before settling back. "Still," she drawls obviously impressed.

I shrug not wanting to make a big deal of it. "I don't know why she decided to take pity on me. But I'll take it," I voice with a small chuckle as I tuck a stray strand of dark hair behind by ear.

"Who's your tutor?" Annabelle asks as she stands to head towards our kitchen. It's a bit small, but perfect for just the two of us and our cooking needs. She opens the fridge and takes out a pitcher of freshly made lemonade. She received a juicer for her birthday over the summer and has been using it constantly.

I stand to follow her and before I even reach her she grabs a second glass for me. She truly is the best, and my heart warms and the simple yet caring gesture.

"Don't know," I divulge. "She didn't give me a name just that the girl did really well in her class last year," I say as my roommate turns to place the cold glass in my hand. My lips pucker at the tartness of the drink as it explodes against my taste buds.

"Are you going tonight?" she questions before she places the pitcher back into the fridge.

I lift my gaze to the clock on the microwave to see I have a few hours until we have to meet, and thankfully our apartment is close to campus and right across the street from the university's library so it will be a short walk.

"Yeah at eight," I respond as I lean back against the hard countertop.

She nods causally. "Liz is coming over around then to study," she tells me.

My eyebrows rise. "Does her roommate have her boyfriend over again?" I ask already knowing the answer to my question. Elizabeth rarely comes over at nights during the week, unless it's movie night, because she's a night owl and that's when she gets most of her work done. She says we distract her so she usually keeps to herself.

Annabelle's face sours. "She walked in on them last week," she informs me and I immediately realize the reason behind her expression.

I love my friends but there are some things that one never really needs to see. And my roommate getting piped is one of them.

I tilt my head as curiosity takes over. "Do they not close their door?" I question.

She grimaces. "They were in the kitchen." I cringe instantly at her words.

"Ohhh," I hiss. "Yeah...no one wants to see that," I trail with a groan.

Annabelle runs a hand through her short hair with a soft sigh. "So she's going to spend the night here if that's okay?" she asks even though I've told her she never has to ask when it comes to her cousin. The other person who knows me and I never hide anything from.

"Of course that's okay," I assure her for maybe the millionth time. "Your cousin is welcome whenever," I tell her truthfully. I love Elizabeth just as much as Annabelle. They both entered my life when I needed them freshman year, and they have become like the sisters I never knew I needed.

Growing up most girls tended to ignore me or taunt me because of my brother's affiliation with three certain boys. So finally having friends, true friends, helped to soften a few of my rougher edges that grew to protect me.

Her shoulders sag. "I just feel bad with her living situation this year. Her roommate and her lived together last year and they were fine, but her roommate was also single and now she's not," she expresses.

"We should just move to a three bedroom next year," I suggest easily. We should've done it this year but Elizabeth had already agreed to live with her current roommate before we signed our lease.

"You think?" she questions.

"Absolutely!" I exclaim. "It would be cheaper, and the ones near the south end of campus just got renovated and are super nice," I tell her. Not that money is much of an issue on my side, but I know it's something Annabelle worries more about than even her cousin. She comes from a family of world-class surgeons, but her parents are going through a nasty divorce. She's the last of her siblings to go through college, and it was leaked before this semester started that majority of her college fund has been depleted because of her father's various affaires. She doesn't like to talk about it much, but I know something as small as cheaper rent would ease her anxiety.

"Okay," she starts. "I'll talk to her about it when she comes over."

"I think it would make for a great senior year," I say confidently.

"If we survive our junior first," she laughs dryly.

"True," I breathe knowing these next two years will make or break me. And starting now I'm going to work harder than ever to make sure I don't fall behind.

♢

My eyes scan the fourth floor of the library. The table lamps blanket a yellow glow over the entire room making the darkness from the large windows seem more haunting. The tables are spread across the entire floor and it's mostly quiet besides a few conversations as this floor is dedicated to studying and tutoring only.

Not the casual studying with snacks and laughs and distractions where no actual studying gets accomplished like on the first few levels of the library.

I checked in with the front desk to find out what table Professor Hilbert reserved for my tutor and me and headed towards it. The table is empty as I slide into the hard wooden chair. I open my backpack and pull my laptop out and place it on the table before me along with my textbook, notebook, and a pencil.

My fingers tap against the table as my eyes cast around the room waiting to see who is going to help me. I flicker my gaze to my gold watch to see I'm ten minutes early. Nervous energy courses through my veins at the idea of who will be helping me. I sit back against the cool chair and let my dark hair brush against my shoulders.

I clasp my hands behind the back of my chair and tilt my head onto my shoulders to stretch out a bit. Suddenly a tall upside down frame fills my gaze and my neck snaps upright.

My green eyes narrow in on the man next to me with irritation quickly soaring through me. "This table is reserved," I tell Preston with annoyance clear in my words.

A wicked smirk lifts his perfect lips as he trails my body. I'm wearing a pair of cropped black leggings and an oversized sweatshirt that constantly falls off my shoulder. I'm in nothing showy and once again Preston makes his inner thoughts clear as his nose scrunches in distaste at my choice of outfit.

"I know," he tells me slyly as he sits next to me and tosses his book bag on the ground beside him. He leans back in the chair as his long legs extend beneath the table. His dark hair shines under the golden glow that only accentuates the flawless features of his strong jaw and sharp nose.

A frustrated sigh escapes my lips. "Seriously I'm waiting on my tutor you need to leave," I state as my eyes dart around the room once again.

Amusement tightens the corner of his eyes as he crosses his arms over his broad chest. "I am your tutor," he tells me with a bright megawatt smile that shows off his perfectly straight white teeth. A smile I know is used to trick me and make me lower my guard, but that's something I'll never do. Especially around an Heir.

My entire body tenses at his words and I instantly go on edge. "No you're not," I say defiantly.

He leans forward so his elbows are resting on the table. "Yes I am," he counters.

I shake my head as confusion slithers down my spine. "Professor Hilbert said it was a she," I fight back though as I look around the room I see eyes landing on us and I instantly shrink into my chair and lower my voice. "You're not my tutor," I say once again as if I keep saying the words it will come true.

He shrugs. "She was busy and couldn't do it," he tells me though I know not to trust a word that comes out of his mouth.

"I don't believe you," I spit at him.

"Okay, okay, you caught me she would've done it," he begins raising his hands as if surrendering and I almost laugh at the irony. "But I decided to step in," he says as if he did my some huge favor.

"Why?" I ask not trusting his intentions for a single second. The Heirs always have an agenda. They never do something for nothing. They must always have the upper hand so if he expects me to roll over and play his game he has the wrong girl.

His eyes flash with an emotion I don't catch. But his eyes grow darker as his jaw clenches with controlled emotion. "I have my reasons," he trails secretively.

I lean forward. "And what would they be?" I push not standing down.

The smirk on his lips grows and he looks almost like a wolf about to attack his prey. "Wouldn't you like to know little Davenport," he says using the nickname he knows aggravates me to get deeper under my skin.

My body urges me to run away from his twisted games, and my mind agrees as I push away from the table and stand. "Seriously Preston I don't have time for this," I all but growl at him as I begin to grab my things and toss them into my backpack without a second thought.

Then suddenly a hand is wrapped around my forearm. His grip is tight and unrelenting much like Preston is at all times. His fingers burn their prints into my skin causing me to still.

"I got a perfect grade in this class," his deep voice informs me knowing those are the words to make me reconsider everything. I was taught to stay away from boys, men, like him. I was taught to run far away from the suspected murderer. I was taught to be a good little girl.

But we've all seen how that's turned out.

I pause for a second longer as my tongue runs against my bottom lip. "Don't lie to me," I tell him.

"I'm not."

My heart thuds in my chest and my mind races as I think about my next move. I need a tutor. I have to admit that I do need the help. But can I really work with someone like Preston? He might not be in jail but he was there the night of the fire. Him and his friends are still responsible for the death of another. Can I work with someone who even on accident took another life? Can I work with someone who doesn't seem to even care?

I turn to face him and his sparkling brown eyes unnerve me more than I would like to admit.

He steps closer so our bodies are only inches apart and it's too much. I haven't spoken to him this much or been this close to him since that very night that ended in flames. It brings back unwanted memories and I instantly shove them away and straighten my spine. He won't get to me.

"You wanted a tutor James. I'm what you've got," he says with a finality in his voice that sends a shiver throughout my body. "You know I'm the best anyways," he adds darkly with a laugh that flips my stomach.

I turn my head as my nostrils flare with a harsh breath. "Fine," I grit out as I tentatively sit back down into my chair.

I scoot my chair a touch further back from him as the once excited nerves to learn and push myself turn into something heady and dark. It twists my insides and floods my veins with something rather reminiscent of fear.

Preston is extremely smart, and I can't or won't deny that fact. So it doesn't surprise me that he got an A in the course I'm currently struggling in. It may rub against me in a way that grates my skin and makes me want to scream, but it's still the truth.

And not that I'd ever say it aloud but he does intimidate me a little. He always has unlike his friends. Everett is a reckless party animal, and Lawrence is a preppy asshole, and they have the power to break or buy or hurt anyone but at least on the surface they don't scare me.

Okay that's a bit of a lie. They do unnerve me. But not in the same way Preston does. Not in a way that could spell my