But then again, part of me knows I’m screwed either way.
Chapter Two
Caroline is at our apartment when I get home. She’s curled up on the sofa with an afghan and a bowl of mac and cheese, watching Gossip Girl on Netflix. Other than my family, Caroline has known me longer than anyone. Before college, the trailer park in which we grew up was the one commonality that linked us. But while we were friends in grade school, in our high school years we were more acquaintances. Caroline hovered on the periphery of the popular crowd, not quite breaking in because of her address. By high school, I had retreated from everyone and everything, focusing on my goal of graduating with honors and getting a scholarship to college. When we realized we were both going to the same college, we ended up rooming together, then became best friends. We left Shelbyville behind, and we’re all that we have left of our past. Now we’re more like sisters than friends. We’re our own little family.
“Bad day?” I ask.
She twists her mouth to one side but doesn’t answer.
Caroline says her goal in life is to be Blair Waldorf, headbands included. Not surprising since she’s a fashion major. But in the two and a half years we’ve lived together—freshman and sophomore years in the dorm and our junior year in our apartment—I’ve learned that her Gossip Girl marathons are her clue that something’s wrong.
“Is the sidewalk at the bottom of the stairs still flooded?” she asks, licking her spoon.
The rain has come down in sheets off and on all day. Still, the question seems random. “Yeah.”
She scowls. “Damn. I wanted to wear my new suede boots tomorrow.”
I shake my head as I scoop up a bowl of the mac and cheese. “It’s January in Tennessee, Caroline. It’s wet and cold. What’s tomorrow?”
She shrugs, but one side is higher than the other. She has a reason but doesn’t want to tell me. “How was geek lab?”
I shove her feet off the sofa to sit next to her, but she puts them in my lap, and I pull the corner of her throw over the both of us. “Math lab was fine, although I tutored an interesting student.”
Laughing, Caroline leans over and scoops some macaroni from my bowl. “Interesting student. In the math lab.” She eats my noodles and shrugs. “I give up. I got nuthin’.”
“Tucker Price.”
Her eyes narrow, and her mouth puckers around her spoon. “Yeah, right.”
“Ever heard of academic probation?”
“You’re kidding?”
“Nope.” I give her a smug smile. “And guess who will start privately tutoring him?”
She bolts upright. “Shut. Up.”
Ever since I’ve agreed to do this, I’ve been trying to see this in a positive light. The mathematics department needs the new program that maps arbitrary complex functions, and experience with this program will look fantastic on my résumé. I already have the disadvantage of Southern University being a relatively small school with a slightly above-average mathematics department. Besides, I tutor students one-on-one all the time. Why is tutoring Tucker any different? To my surprise, Tucker wasn’t the cocky asshole I’m used to hearing about. As long as he checks his attitude at the door, I can live with tutoring him.
I shrug. “He wasn’t anything like I expected. He was… polite.”
Sinking back into the cushions, an ornery grin lights up her face and she scoops several noodles. “Oh, he’s polite all right.”
“Not like that. Kind of quiet. Other than a few slips into character, he was…normal.”
“Are we talking about the same Tucker Price? Blond with incredible blue eyes? About six foot? Stunning legs when he wears those soccer shorts? Guy who flaunts his good looks and his sportsmanship?”
“Good Lord. Is everything a sexual innuendo to you tonight?”
“Pretty much.”
“Well, it was the same guy. Different personality.”
“Shh!” She grabs the remote and increases the volume. “Chuck’s about to trade Blair for a hotel.”
My jaw drops. “You’re kidding, right?” I’ve never been able to get into Gossip Girl, despite Caroline’s multiple and relentless attempts to sway me to the dark side. As a poor girl from the other side of the tracks, I just can’t relate to spoiled rich kids. Or maybe it’s the spoiled, rich bad boys I’m trying to avoid. Why anyone would willingly subject themselves to that type of person is beyond me.
“Want to talk about anything?” I ask.
Tears fill her eyes, but she shakes her head.
“I’m here if you need me, okay?”
She gives me a tearful smile, and I wrap an arm around her shoulders, leaning my head into hers. I suspect her despondency is related to her breakup from her boyfriend, Justin. He broke up with her several months before, but she’s still not over it. She’ll talk when she’s ready, probably in another hour or two.
I force myself off the sofa, not an easy task since it’s so cozy under the afghan with Caroline. “I’ve got some equations to work on.”
Caroline fakes a snore.
I put a hand on my hip and look down my nose at her. “Don’t the nerdy-math jokes ever get old?”
She twists her mouth to the side as though she’s giving it thought. “Nope. Never do.”
“I could tease you mercilessly about your fashion design degree. Tons of fodder there.”