He Who Controls the Flame (001 fanfic)

Chapter Eight- Drinking Games

"No, Eddie, I seriously don't think taking off my top is going to help you memorize biology terms any better," I said, propping the mass that was our phone into the space between my jaw and shoulder.

"Oh come on, Brenner," Eddie said, and I could hear him strumming at something, probably his guitar. "I need to pass this test."

"No, I know you do Mr. One-Point-Oh gpa." I ran the sponge from the sink over a plate, washing away the remnants of the salad Manuela and I had made for dinner.

"Hey, I'm paying you to get me A's," Eddie said.

"No, you're not paying me jackshit," I said. "I'm doing this for community service hours, not out of the goodness of my heart."

"But you're so sweet," Eddie said. "Come on, just this one thing, and if I get an A I'll give you...fifteen bucks?"

"Sorry, I require more pay for my services," I said, trying to sound annoyed, but I had a smile on my face. Eddie could've been creepy, but I knew all his jokes came from a good place. He was a surprisingly good person for being labeled an "outcast" in school. Not that I really regarded high school stereotypes with much weight. I was a "nerd" after all.

"Ugh, you're killing me, Jules." I rolled my eyes at that nickname, plunging my hands into the soapy water and grabbing the last cup.

"I think you should get with someone your own age, Eddie." I rinsed off the cup and put it into the dishwasher, drying my hands on a rag.

"You're only a year older than me-"

"Two," I corrected him, leaning my hip against the counter.

"Okay, fine, whatever, two." I could imagine him running a hand over the sheer chaos that was his hair. "But I'm into older women."

I snorted. "Well I'm not into being a cougar, sorry. Go study and then get some rest."

"But-"

"You have a big day tomorrow, Eddie. Pining over your tutor won't help you get that C on tomorrow's test." That's right, Eddie sucked so much at biology that the most I could do was at least try and get him an average of a C in the class. C's got diplomas.

"Jules-"

"Goodnight Munson," I sing-songed before hanging up the phone and setting it on the counter.

"Who was that?" my father asked from the kitchen table, not looking up at me as he wrote something down in that big binder of his. I had no idea what was in the binder, nor did I want to know. Probably something about the creepy kids he worked with. My father was always working, even when he was home, which was never. Tonight was the first time I had seen him in four weeks.

"Eddie Munson," I said, wringing the dish towel in my hands. It wasn't normal to have small talk with my dad, and I hated to admit that recently it had been awkward between us. I dreaded him coming home now. He'd ask about colleges and then only half-listen when I responded. He'd ask if I wanted to watch the game, and when I'd say no he'd only shrug. We were practically strangers now.

"Whose that?" he asked, putting his pen between his teeth as his eyes glazed over something in his binder.

"A freshman I'm tutoring, though I'm ninety-nine percent sure he's going to get held back with the way his studying habits are." I shuddered at the thought of his "topless tutoring" suggestion. Not that I really had much in that department to begin with. Push-up bras were my godsend.

"He sounded like a creep," my father said.

"No, just a freshman." I laughed, but my father didn't seem to get the joke. I flushed, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear that had escaped that haphazard bun I had put it up in. "It's a facade. He's actually a really sweet boy."