Reunited(5)



“What exactly do you need help with?” she asked. “Mr. Phillips said you’re failing math.”

“Dummy math.”

“Intro to Algebra?” Kathryn shook her head. Brett Falcone was an * to the nth degree, but she’d never thought he was stupid. Not a genius, to be sure, but failing Intro to Algebra? Something else was at work here. “I didn’t know seniors could take that class. Isn’t it a Freshman class?”

“Not for us dummies.”

“All right, enough of that talk. It’s counter-productive.”

He laughed. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means if you keep telling yourself you’re a dummy, you’ll become one. So shut up already.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He saluted her.

“Ha-ha. Okay, where are you having the problem?”

“First, let me ask you a question.”

“Sorry. I’m the tutor here. I ask the questions.”

“No, I’m the student. I’m the one with questions.”

He had a point. She blew a strand of hair out of her face. “What’s your question?”

“Why did you agree to tutor me?”

“That’s not a mathematical question, Brett.”

“No. But I’d like to know.”

She huffed. “Fine. If I answer that, I get to ask you a question.”

“Fair enough. So why?”

“Mr. Phillips made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

“What offer?”

“None of your business. I answered your question, now you answer mine.”

“You didn’t answer mine.”

“Oh yes, I did. It was a perfectly acceptable answer to the question as posed. Next time, ask a more specific question.” She couldn’t help a slight smile. “Now, why did you insist on me for a tutor?”

“You’re the smartest person I know.”

“You haven’t said two words to me in four years. How do you know I’m the smartest?”

“You’ve always been the smartest, Kath. Since we were little kids.” His lips curved into a churlish grin. “And there’s another reason.”

“Which is?”

“You’re a fox.”

Kathryn caught her chin before it dropped to the floor. A fox? This from Brett Falcone, the boy who’d tormented her for being an ugly nerd? Granted, once the braces had come off and she’d gotten contact lenses, her looks had improved. Her mother told her she was beautiful, but she was her mother, for God’s sake. No one else had.

“I’d much rather look at you for an hour than one of those other nerds.”

Heat crept up her neck. Damn! She didn’t want him to see that his words affected her. This was Brett Falcone, the boy who’d made her life miserable, the boy who’d made her cry. What did she care if he found her attractive now? He was probably lying anyway. He wasn’t a nice person.

“Looking at me won’t get you the C you need.”

“But studying with you will.”

“Let’s get one thing straight right now.” Kathryn raked her fingers through her feathered hair. “We aren’t studying together. I’m teaching, you’re learning. There’s nothing magical about sitting here with a student who knows math. You aren’t going to learn through osmosis, Brett. You need to take an active part in this process.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

Kathryn stood and gathered her books. “I’m leaving.”

She was halfway to the door when a warm hand gripped her elbow.

“Please. Don’t go. I need you. Really.”

She turned. This would be so much easier if he weren’t so damn good-looking. Every teenage girl’s fantasy. “You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”

“I’m sorry. Most girls like it when I tell them they’re pretty.”

“Most girls didn’t get tormented by you in middle school.”

His high cheekbones reddened. Had she actually embarrassed him?

“I was hoping you didn’t remember that.”

“Not remember that?” She shook her head. “You really think I can forget being told I’m ugly on a daily basis? Being made fun of in gym class at every opportunity? Being tripped in the hallway?” Kathryn closed her eyes and inhaled. Deeply. Never let them see you cry.

She opened her eyes and met Brett’s dark gaze straight on. He bit his bottom lip.

“I didn’t think you cared. You never said anything.”

“Oh. So you would have stopped if I’d given a damn? If I’d cried my eyes out for you? Is that what you wanted?”

“No. I mean…” He sighed. “Aw, hell. I don’t know what I mean. I was a punk, okay? A stupid kid. I honestly didn’t think I was hurting you. I honestly didn’t think you cared. I’m sorry.”

An apology from Brett Falcone? What’s more, it even sounded sincere. For a moment, elation speared through Kathryn, until she realized he needed her. He was just trying to get her to tutor him so he could get his grade up and play freaking baseball. That’s all this was. A forced apology. An act.

She could act as well as the next person. “Fine. You’re right. I didn’t care, and I don’t care now. Frankly, I don’t care if you flunk out of high school and never play baseball again. But I made a deal with Mr. Phillips and I, unlike you, am a person of honor and integrity. I keep my bargains. So I accept your apology. Now let’s get down to business.”

Helen Hardt's Books