“Wow, Liz wasn’t kidding about you hating French,” says David.
I whip around looking into the eyes that stole my heart.
“What did Liz tell you?” I ask, hoping I won’t have to hurt Liz, because of her big mouth.
He shrugs shoulders. “She told me you hate French. Is there something about French she wasn’t supposed to tell me?” He picks up the book off the floor, leaning in very close to place it in my locker.
“Abusing the book won’t improve your grade,” he said with serious eyes.
“There’s nothing wrong with my grade,” I told a little white lie. I start fumbling with my notebook, so he can’t see my face. He would know I was lying.
“Why are you lying to me?” he asked in a soft voice.
I close my locker. “My grade maybe a little low, but I can handle it.” I start walking down the hall real fast. I love everything about him, but he’s an insane tutor. He constantly harasses you until he drives you crazy! He does it all in a calm and polite manner, that drives me crazy! I vowed last year I would never let him tutor me again.
He catches me by the arm to slow me down. He didn’t release my arm.
“Last year I tutored you in calculus.” He does a slow grin. “Let me try to remember all the names you called me.” He gently pushes me against the wall. He steps up to me so close; I can feel every breath from him. “You called me insane or mad?”
“I called you both,” I said barely above a whisper, staring in his eyes. I truly love those eyes.
He places a hand on the wall next to my head. He leans into my ear whispering, “You said I was evil with politeness.” His breath hits my ear, sending shivers down my spine. I can feel his lips on the tip of my ear. “Then you threw all the books on the floor,” he murmurs against my ear. My knees start going weak.
“Are you flunking French?” he whispers, gently grazing his lips against my cheek.
I turn my head giving him a sharp look.
“What are you two love birds whispering about?” Marty passes by us giving David’s shoulder a shove.
I knock David’s arm out the way.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I hiss to Marty.
What is that look he’s giving me…..hurt or annoyed?
“Don’t play stupid with me…..I’m better at it,” Marty retorts.