Page 5 of Stalked By the Shortstop
Agust of wind picked up, and I shivered.
It had been a deceivingly warm morning, but the day had blown by like it usually did when my schedule was jampacked like it was this week. I hadn’t had a chance to go back to my room to get a hoodie. The summer was almost over, and in the desert, temperatures liked to drop like crazy at night.
I pulled the strap of my backpack up my shoulder and tried not to wince with the way it cut into my skin due its weight.
“Thanks again, Sadie,” Jackie said, and I smiled.
“Anytime.” And I meant it. I enjoyed tutoring. It was part of why I wanted to go into teaching.
Helping to explain something to someone and being present for that moment when the pieces connect for someone else and they can keep moving forward and learning more to expand the possibilities and opportunities for their life.
“Remember, if you come to town for the famers market, we could do that video for some content, and we can make it based around math.” I smiled at her enthusiasm. “I’m serious.” She frowned, and my lips twitched.
“I know you are,” I answered softly.
“You say that, but I see that look on your face.” I laughed. “I know you think I’m a little crazy but?—“
“I don’t think you’re crazy.”
“I know. I said alittlecrazy.” She winked, and I laughed harder. It softened as she kept talking. “But honestly, babe, I really think this would be a good idea. It could totally take off!”
“I don’t know, Jackie.” I bit my lower lip. Jackie was a social media influencer who was slowly growing in popularity since she’d left her small mountain town of Moonlit Pines and transferred to U of D.
“A tutoring business could make you a lot of money.”
“You know how many flyers I’ve seen around campus for at least a dozen different tutoring services?”
“Exactly! Those are flyers. Launching a couple of social media pages of your own with some fun vids that showcase your vibe and teaching method attached to a Google doc for interest forms or scheduling calendar would be gold. You wouldn’t even have to invest in a website until you had more clients.” Her idea held merit. “And I can help you launch it to get more followers.”
“Wouldn’t you feel like I’m using you?” My tone was serious, but she simply rolled her eyes. She was an influencer with over a million followers.
“You kidding? You help me all the time with more than math! Do you feel like I’m using you?”
“No.”
“See!” she said as if she’d made her point. Which I guess she had. “Think about it and let me know. Because let’s say you do this, right? It does well, you could quit eyeing thatNow Hiringsign at the Blue Bird.”
“How did—" She gave me a look, and I blushed. “Okay, fine. I’ll think about it, for reals,” I reassured her.
Tutoring was fun, and somehow, I wasn’t sure how, other than Jackie’s magnetic personality, we’d become friends.Genuine ones. So much I had started to feel bad about charging her for tutoring. When I’d brought it up, she’d quickly shut it down, saying no way, no how to her not paying me.
“Good.” She took my hand and squeezed. “You’re a great tutor. I should know. I’ve gone through….” She made a face that made me giggle.
It was true. She had been through eight different ones before her last one had recommended me.
“I’ll see you next week?”
“Sounds good.” We hugged, and I watched as she left before I started to descend the steps in front of the main entrance of the library.
I looked out at the darkened sky and smiled. I couldn’t help it. It had been a long, grueling, seriously embarrassing day after that thing with the elevator guy, but it had been productive, nonetheless. Laundry and groceries were done. I’d been to all my classes. I’d done my shift at the bookstore and had tutored Jackie.
As I walked, the cooler winds felt like they cut right through me. I should have been focused on Jackie’s proposal for me to make a steadier income. It wasn’t a bad idea and wouldn’t be too hard to set up. And where usually, I would jump into the idea, my brain kept going back to the guy in the white tee and jeans with the light brown eyes and sexy voice.
A voice, I might add, that kept repeating in my head all day long. I shook the thought away.
It was stupid to think about that guy. I would never see him again. We must live on the same floor if he was carting around his laundry like I had. Unless it was a side hustle? I knew a lot of athletes paid struggling underclassmen or rookies to do their laundry for them. No. He wasn’t some struggling anything. Not with the clothes he wore or even the simple leather flip flops he’d had on; those were an expensive brand. I wanted to laughat myself for trying to figure out the who, what, when, where of a guy—no, a man—I would never see again.
My phone rang, and I smiled at whose name flashed on my screen. “Hey,” I answered.
