Coffee

10

I spent more time with Jordan in the past few days than I thought I would. I called off of work to let her tutor me and then hang out afterwards on Monday and Tuesday. It was the first time I'd ever done that. Becca did text me that she was back on Tuesday, but I was in the middle of tutoring with Jordan and ignored it. She was in school today, but she didn't even sit close enough for me to say hi without shouting across the room in Econ. I patiently waited for Becca to come into Rizzo's later on but she never came, which also was a first.

"She came in yesterday looking for you," Thomas said.

"Well I was getting tutored, something she was supposed to be doing with me. Did she really expect me to sit around and keep getting low grades because I was waiting on her?"

"Don't know, but I think you should talk to her," he said, shrugging.

"You never give me good advice."

"I do, you just never follow it."

"Your opinion," I shrugged it off. "I'll text her later."

"I'm rooting for you!" he exclaimed dramatically, slightly imitating Tyra Banks when she yelled at a model for the first time.

"Does that mean you finally made up your mind up about us?"

"Yes and no. If she's still as straight as she says, then no. If she's hiding in her little closet, then yes, I want you two to be together."

I nodded and stayed silent for a bit until I asked him about Jordan.

"Do you like her?"

"I don't know, I haven't really spoken to her," he answered.

"I think you would, she reminds me of you."

"So when you kiss her, you imagine yourself kissing me?"

"Gross, no dude."

"Wait, so you've kissed?"

"No, no, no. Stop trapping me in your... your... word traps."

"Is that the best you could come up with?"

He began laughing so hard that he clutched his stomach. I wasn't good at comebacks, but Jordan was. Maybe she could teach me something.

"My brain hurts from all the studying. Leave me alone," I said, laughing.

I met up with Jordan again when work finally ended, after what seemed like a year. The Econ books were opened in front of us on my dining room table. Papers were scattered everywhere and the table could barely be seen underneath it all.

"Why can't you study on your own? You really don't need a tutor, maybe just someone to teach it a second time," Jordan asked.

"Jordan, that's what tutoring is."

"No it's not."

She loved to argue with me even when it was unnecessary. I opened the official Dictionary app on my phone and typed it in to show her the definition.

"So it's a private teacher who gives remedial instruction to a single student; doesn't say anything about a second time."

"Yeah, yeah. All I'm hearing is an attempted excuse to get out of tutoring me."

"I don't mind tutoring you honestly. I'd rather spend my time doing something else with you - something fun," she emphasized and put her hand over mine.

"Fun comes after I'm passing this class. I can't not graduate."

"Fine, fine. Are you sure you can't be tempted?"