Tutoring the Bad Boy [REWRITTEN]

08. grandparents and dances

A WEEK PASSED by faster than anything else in my entire life. During school, I finally started sitting in the cafeteria with Tobias, Ayana, and a few of her other friends. I didn't have any classes with the heterochromiac boy, but Archer kept me occupied in class and after school.

     Whenever I tutored him, neither of us talked about the kiss in the garden. Nor the kiss between Tobias and I that he just so happened to see. In fact, the boy was acting a lot more distant towards me. I knew I should've felt grateful that he was backing away, but part of me wanted him to be like before. We both knew things about each other that nobody else knew.

Sometimes I'd steal a few glances at him during lunch and regret it moments later because Amy was sitting on his lap. It's not that he noticed anyway, being too caught up sticking his tongue down the girl's throat. But I hated to admit that it bothered me— couldn't she sit like a normal person? In a chair? Archer is not a chair. The cafeteria is not a bedroom.

     The birds outside chirped and flew around as I waited outside of my house. They either seemed to be doing it a lot more often or I was just noticing them more now. My mom was gone again, probably drunk at some old geezer's house. It was her way of making money, and her way worked. As long as there was enough shit so I could take care of myself, I didn't care. Why would I care about her if she doesn't care about me?

A familiar black Mustang pulled up to my driveway a few minutes later. The boy got out of the car and opened the passenger door for me. There was an amused smile etched onto his face when I rolled my eyes at the cliché gesture. My heart unwillingly skipped a beat at his expression.

     I blamed it on the fact that he wanted me to pretend to date him for his grandmother's birthday party. Apparently, the twins kept babbling about how Archer finally got a girlfriend whenever their grandparents were around, which was often. Much more often than their actual parents. He didn't say it, but then again, not much needed to be said.

     He stared at my house for a moment and I felt myself get self conscious. It wasn't my fault that I had to live in such a small, messed up house. The white paint on the exterior of the house was chipping off and there were dead leaves all around the yard.

     "So you and Amy Jones, huh?" I started a conversation, not noticing the small undertone of envy in my voice until after it came out of my mouth.

     "We're not together," he informed me before changing the topic on me, "but you and Tobias Walker? I'm surprised."

     "We're not together either," I replied, looking out the window with my chin rested on my palm.

     "And you kissed him?" he asked. Was that some envy I heard in his voice too? I must be imagining things.

     "I kissed you too," I retorted.

     "Damn, Irene, I didn't know you were such a player," he remarked with a chuckle.

     "Yeah, didn't know you had the audacity to kiss me and then shove your tongue down some girl's throat a day after," I told him, partially annoyed and bitter now. "But you know, we learn new things every day."

     "I'm sorry," he apologized. I didn't want to believe he was genuinely sorry, but the tone in his voice made me think otherwise. "It was really sudden, but she asked me to pretend to be together to get away from her obsessive ex."

     "You must be skilled in the fake dating apartment," I muttered.

     He chuckled before changing the topic, "Do you like Tobias?"

     The question honestly threw me off guard. I didn't expect Archer to care. There was a long pause after his question. Did I like him? Compared to my ex, he was a hundred times better. Though we weren't together, he would always flirt and we would always hang out whenever I was free. He cared about me, and he didn't make me feel like absolute shit. His words were like symphonies to me, and I treasured every compliment I got from him. He was real, and nobody's expectations for him stopped him from doing what he wanted to do.