"Let me guess," he says, leaning back in his chair. "Your color-coded calendar doesn't think it can fit this in, does it? Are your blocks of time scheduled down to the minute?"
His eyes crinkle at the corners, mouth fighting a smile.Asshole's definitely enjoying this.
I narrow my eyes. "What's wrong with being organized?"
"Nothing at all," he says, raising his hands in surrender. "I think it's great. I've got a pretty full schedule too, practice, classes, and frat stuff. But I'm free Tuesday and Thursday evenings after six, and Sunday afternoons."
I mentally review my schedule. "Thursdays could work. 6:30 to 7:30."
"Only an hour?" He looks disappointed. "We should probably do at least ninety minutes. Psychology isn't a class you can cram."
I suppress a sigh. "Fine. 6:30 to 8:00."
"Great!" He takes out his phone and types. "What's your number? I'll text you so you have mine."
I reluctantly give him my number, and my phone immediately buzzes with a text. I glance down to see a football emoji, a brain emoji, and a flexed bicep emoji.
"Very professional," I say dryly.
"That's me in emoji form," he says with a grin. "Football player, psychology major, workout enthusiast."
Despite myself, I almost smile. Almost.Dammit, why does he have to be funny too?
"About payment," I begin, wanting to get the awkward financial discussion out of the way.
"Right," he says, his expression shifting to serious. "So, I had a different idea about that."
"I can pay the standard rate," I say quickly. "Fifteen to twenty dollars per hour is fine."
"I don't want your money," he says.
I blink. "What?"
"I don't need the cash. I have scholarships covering most of my expenses."
I immediately grow suspicious. Nothing in life is free. "Then why agree to tutor me?"
"Because Harrington asked, and because I think I can help," he says simply. "But I was thinking we could maybe trade."
"Trade?" I repeat cautiously. "Trade what?"
He leans forward, lowering his voice slightly. "Can I ask you a personal question, Sebastian?"
Warning bells immediately sound in my head. "Depends on the question."
"Are you gay?"
I nearly choke on my coffee. "Excuse me?"
"Sorry, too direct?" He looks genuinely concerned. "I'm still working on my approach for extremely personal questions."
"Why are you asking me about my sexual orientation?" I hiss, glancing around to see if anyone overheard.
"It's relevant to my proposed trade," he says calmly. "I'm not trying to be rude, it’s just… You had a rainbow pin on at the mixer… and I noticed… and so… well you need tutoring and so do I… I think."
"How is my sexuality relevant to psychology tutoring?"
He takes a deep breath and says the most impossible thing. I think he must be joking. "Because instead of money, I’m hoping you could teach me about being gay."
