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really unlike you."

I must make a horrified face at her, because Linda is quick to continue. "I know, I know! You know this. But wow. I mean…he's a student of yours basically. And he got you off in public? Public! That's fucking hot."

Linda is well aware of my desperately unexciting love life up until this point. I've had a handful of less than notable sexual experiences with other guys--a few random guys from somewhere in the science department. I went on a few dates with each of them, slept with each of them once, and then never called again. The sex was…well, before today I would have called it fine. After what I felt today in the library, I'm very aware that I had no idea what good sex felt like.

"Linda," I breathe. "It was…I never felt anything like that." She nods. "Not even…not even with myself!"

I know I'm blushing now, but I need to tell someone what happened or I'll somehow convince myself it was a dream. Nobody just dishes out orgasms like that in the library. Just casually making my clit explode by barely touching me through my jeans.

"All right, look," she says. "It's obvious that you can't stop tutoring him because you need the money."

"Right," I say.

"But it's also obvious that he's, like, seriously gifted at giving out orgasms."

"Right again."

She nods as she chokes down the last of the Hamburger Helper I made, one of three foods I can cook. "The way I see it is you have to fuck him to get it out of your system. Neither of you is going to be able to concentrate on math otherwise."

"Linda! You can't be serious! That's…that's totally unethical." I feel the lame words falling out of my mouth and I know neither of us believes I'm going to be able to follow through. I mean, it is unethical. But I'm also 21 years old, damn it. I deserve to have good orgasms. "He's obviously had a lot of practice. I'd just be, like, a bedpost notch."

"Did he really say he's going to make you scream?" she asks. I nod, finishing up my food. She raises her eyebrows. "It sounds like it'd be worth it." Both of us sigh. It's going to be a long week.

CHAPTER THREE

 

 

By the time I meet Neal at the library for our next session, I've decided not to mention what happened. This seems like the right course of action, because he acts like absolutely nothing is amiss. He greets me with a "Hey, Dahlia," and sits across from me, ready to work. He raps his knuckles on the desk when we finish, waves, and saunters off. This continues for two weeks and I have almost convinced myself I imagined his invasion.

The day before his first exam, I agree to meet him in the Earl since he has a late practice and needs to fit studying around his wait for his turn with the trainer afterward. The space is buzzing with activity, and there are actually a number of hockey players meeting with tutors in the cushy armchairs in the common room. I feel like a dwarf among all these giant, muscular men. I try to maintain my professional composure as they stagger out from the showers, smelling of soap and muscle ointment.

I recognize a few of them from leading group sessions previous years. One guy, Tyler, smiles and sits down. "Hey, math girl, right?" I nod. "You really helped me get through that class you know," he says. He leans back and does the man spread, legs splayed wide enough that his knee bumps mine.

"I'm glad to hear it," I say. "I want to teach college math someday."

He nods. "You'll be better at it than whatever windbag teaches freshman math. You here for study hall?"

I'm about to answer him when Neal comes stomping over with his folder. He swats Tyler's arm off the edge of the chair and says, "She's with me." I open my mouth to clarify that I'm here to work on math with Neal, but the thrill of hearing him suggest I might be with him makes me shudder. I'm sort of frozen in my chair with my mouth hanging open and Tyler looks between Neal and me with a confused look. "You're in my seat, Ty," Neal grunts.

"Hey, man, no worries," he says, easing up with popping joints. He pats Neal on the back and says, "You're in good hands." Tyler winks at me and walks off. I can tell that Neal is upset by this interaction, and I feel smug. My mind is in overdrive, trying to understand all this alpha male posturing that just happened. And why would I ever feel pride that Neal seems jealous of Tyler?

Nothing makes sense this year. I am quiet as I line up the flashcards for our review session, but I can feel Neal staring at me. I look up and his eyes are dark and angry. The look is enough to stop me from my organizing, and I furrow my brow until he speaks. "Did you sleep with Tyler?"

"What? What are you talking about? Jesus, Neal." The idea literally never occurred to me. Sure, Tyler is nice looking. Everyone on the hockey team is nice looking. I'm about to explain to Neal that I would never get involved with a tutoring student, when I remember that he's had his hand in my crotch…twice. "I just know him from leading study groups here."

Neal rolls his eyes, giving me a "whatever" look. "Besides," I hiss at him under my breath, "What's it matter to you who I sleep with? You're my tutoring client, Neal. We shouldn't even be talking about this."

He raises an eyebrow at me and I bite my lip. I tuck my legs up under me on the chair, creating distance between us. Hopefully, this

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