Olly
“I still don’t get this,” I said, scrubbing my hands over my face. “It’s pointless. I should just give up.”
“No, don’t give up,” Keaton said. His tone was pleading. “You’ve got your assessment coming up, right?”
I nodded. “Mm. Next week.”
“Then let’s keep trying,” Keaton said. “We’ve only been doing this tutoring thing for three weeks. I know you expect a lot of me, but I’m not a miracle worker. It’s going to take time.”
“So, it would take a miracle to fix me,” I said, dropping my head into my folded arms on the table. “Thanks.”
“That’s not what I meant!” Keaton said, his voice full of panic.
I looked up. “I was joking,” I said. I thought about it for a moment. “Sort of.”
“I would never say or even imply that,” Keaton said firmly.
“I know.” I sighed. “I’m the one that believes it.”
Keaton sighed back. “You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”
“It’s not like you’re struggling with any of this,” I said, gesturing around at the books. Keaton’s side of the room was neat as ever. All his textbooks were stacked up in size order on top of his dresser. He was so smart. “You’re probably top of the class in everything you’re taking.”
“That’s not true,” Keaton huffed. “I’m so far behind in my film class.”
“Really?” I looked at him. “I can’t imagine that.”
Keaton half-laughed. “Yeah. We’re supposed to do this project where we make our own short films. I wanted to do a documentary but I can’t even think of a subject. It’s going to be the final deadline before I even get an idea.”
I thought about it for a second. An impulse idea came to my mind. “Why don’t you use me as your subject?” I asked before I thought about it for long enough to lose my nerve.
Keaton quirked an eyebrow at me. “About your journey of discovering whether you have dyscalculia?”
“No,” I said, with a half-laugh. The thought of being that vulnerable on film made my stomach churn. “No, I mean like document life as a college football player. Having a scholarship, having to meet certain requirements to keep it, the training and the games, that kind of thing.”
“We could do that,” Keaton said thoughtfully. His forehead was wrinkled, but he looked more like he was thinking than that he didn’t like the idea. “Would your coach be okay with me coming to training, going behind the scenes, and stuff like that?”
“I could ask,” I shrugged. I liked the idea of being useful to him. “I mean, it’s a project for a class here on our same campus, so that might help persuade him.”
“Okay,” Keaton said, nodding slowly. “Okay, let’s do it.”
“It’s a deal?” I asked. “You tutor me and I’ll be your film subject in exchange?” I stuck out my hand between us.
Keaton grinned. He reached out his hand and shook mine. His palm was warm and soft against me. It made me suddenly self-conscious about my rough skin. “It’s a deal,” he said.
“Great,” I grinned. “Now I don’t feel so bad about not paying you.”
Keaton laughed. “Well, just remember I don’t know how long we’ll be able to do this. Once I have a new roommate, we won’t exactly see each other as much. You’re so busy with your practice schedule, and we don’t know whether we’ll end up at opposite ends of the campus.”
My heart plummeted like a stone into my stomach. Right, the room change. I’d almost forgotten about it in the last few weeks. Keaton had stopped mentioning it. Maybe a small part of me had hoped he’d given up on the idea.
But why would he? He hated me. He didn’t want to be roommates with someone who hurt him in the past. Especially not someone so stupid they were extra work to live with.
I dropped my eyes to my notes. “We’ll just have to see how much we can get done, I guess,” I said. I tried hard to keep my tone neutral.
Keaton cleared his throat. “Anyway,” he said. “So, how have you been getting on with the grids I showed you?”
I nodded. “It’s a much easier technique,” I said. “Thanks.”
