Right Person Too Late

chapter 6

Arsema

"Recognition is what you want and it's something that I should know."

Song: Right My Wrongs by Bryson Tiller

I know I'm probably an idiot for getting into a car with an absolute stranger, but I was just so pissed with Michael and there's something about this Noah guy. I'm in a weird daze the entire tutoring session, zoning out randomly, trying to figure out what's off about Noah - not off in that way, but off like there's something that I just can't quite put my finger on. By the time 3:30 comes around, we've - me and Aaron, the kid I tutor - barely gotten any work done and his mum picks him up at 4. I feel so bad for not helping him as much that I call to ask his mum and take him out for some Macca's.

"Boy issues?"

"Aaron!" The kid has a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, tomato sauce smeared on the side of his mouth. "You've got sauce on your mouth. Here." I throw him a tissue that he catches and wipes his entire lower face with.

"Bet ya want his on yours." He says, dissolving into laughter.

"Are you kidding me, bro?! You're a kid, why are you talking like this? And who are you talking about?"

"Pft, I'm 15."

"Not enough reason to say this kind of stuff."

"Egh, you sound like my mum. Anyway, I saw your boyfriend dropping you off."

"What?" I realise he must've seen me leave Noah's car. "Oh my God, no. He's not my boyfriend!"

Smirking the little rat replies, mouth full,

"Good on ya. Keeping a side man."

"Aaron, no! I met him a day ago!"
"And you're already jumping straight to things, literally." Chortling, he hides his laughter behind his burger.

"Ew, no. I barely even know the guy and...wait I don't have to explain myself to you. Just eat your food and get ready, your mum's going to pick you up in 20."

"Ha, spoken like a woman with secrets." He finishes his chips within seconds and we walk to Melbourne Central to wait for his mum there.

* * *

Whenever I'm feeling down or unsure about things I usually go to South Yarra and do some thrifting at the Op shops, mainly to find books. So that's what I decide to do this Sunday. I pack a tote with snacks and my book and leave the house to catch a tram to Chapel Street. As I turn the corner of my street I bump into a solid wall of muscle and then a pair of hands grip my arms, preventing me from toppling over. I inhale in shock and breathe in a musky, woody masculine scent with a hint of cinnamon.

"Arsema?" The familiar voice forces me to look up, into a pair of dark, rich hazel eyes.

"You again?" He pulls his hands away, the hurt and confusion evident in his eyes. "Oh, no, no, I didn't mean it like that. I swear to God. it's just that I've never seen you before and now you're everywhere I go. Ok, that sounded mean too, I'm sorry, it's just...it's been a weird week."

When he shoves his hands back into his shorts I look him up and down, realising that he's dressed for a run or the gym, in basketball shorts and a t-shirt.

"Yeah same here, if it's any reassurance I'm not stalking you." I look back up at him and see that he's now smiling, a dimple - A DIMPLE - popping out on his right cheek.

"Mhmm, I don't know sir, that's what all stalkers say."

"Oh yeah, okay, well I guess you'll never know." Amusement written all over his face he gestures to the book in my hand. "What are you reading there?"