Tutoring Mr. "Bad" boy.

Chapter 7

I can feel his steady gaze on me as I eye the glass of water he just offered me, still contemplating whether or not to drink it.

I know better than to be drinking something someone like Randy offers me in a house in the middle of nowhere in the woods.

Well it's not like I've ever heard anything about him drugging girls to have sex with them or something, but one can never be too cautious.

Drugging girls wouldn't even be necessary in his case. He's the kind of guy that snaps his fingers and all the girls come running.

"I know you're thirsty. Drink it!"
It's more of a command than an urge or persuasion.
I glare at him and pout.

"I'm not thirsty," I lie. My throat is actually very dry and begging for water.
"Yes you are. Drink up. I don't want your death over my head."

I'm still not convinced to drink it.
"I didn't put anything in there," he says, glancing towards the glass. "You're not my type anyways."

The words stab at my heart really hard. I can only imagine what expression I have on.

Angrily I reach for the glass and down it's contents, trying not to look offended even though I am.

"What's wrong?" he mocks."Do you feel wronged?"

"No. Not at all," I reply with a fake smile.
If only he knows how bad I want to snap his neck in half and kill him.
On second thought, I decide to take him up on his game.

"Just shocked. See, I never knew you had a 'type' considering the fact that you sleep around with any girl."

The annoyed look on his face tells me I hit the right button and I feel some sense of achievement within.

"What's wrong? Do you feel wronged?" I ask in the same tone he did when he doesn't say anything after some seconds.

"No," he whispers and sinks into the spot next to me on the couch, his mood and expression totally different from a few seconds ago.

"Ok, confession time. Let's go. What's actually happening with you?"

He sighs and I can tell this is going to take a while.
"Where do I start?" He mumbles with a chuckle.

"How about why you're not soo conspicuous in school anymore?" I suggest and he smiles.

"Yes. See, since I held my first football as a kid, I knew at once that all I ever wanted to be was a footballer. And I've come a long way. I've worked and trained hard and made my way up to team captain. I know I may be bragging but I've gotta say I'm one of the best the team's got."

He stops and stares at me.
I nod, urging him to continue.
"So I want to go to the football academy but my skills alone are not enough to get me in. I need the grades too, which you need no reminder how very bad they are. And it's actually driving me nuts because my parents are always quarreling over me. My dad's lost all hope in me.... thinks I'm a dumb ass and nothing good can come out of me. He's kinda washed his hands off my life. Mom, she just wants me to be happy and honestly that's just making me worse," he explains and I can see the tears welling up.

Now what exactly am I supposed to say or do? I've never been in such a situation before. I don't have the slightest idea what to say. I just look at him with sad eyes and wait for him to continue.

"Dad's never at home and it's mainly because of me. He totally hates the way I live. He hates that mom's always giving me everything I ask for. And we never agree on a thing. Mom is the worst affected by the whole thing. I always hear her crying late into the night and honestly it hurts to see her that way. She tries to make me happy by giving me too much freedom and money. Last month she bought me a new car in exchange for me to stop smoking and..." he trails off, smiling at my shocked expression.