Page 10 of Movers and Fakers

I lock my phone and get ready for bed, all the while trying to ignore the odd feeling swirling in my stomach. One that makes me worry I just signed away far more than a few hours of my life.

Chapter six

His Tutor

Hayes Rosewood

I still remember my first-ever fight. Adrenaline flooded my veins. I felt like I could take on ten guys instead of just one.

Waiting on Aurora to arrive in the library brings about an almost identical feeling. I drum my fingers on the glossy wooden table positioned beneath a window on the second floor. From this vantage point I can see most of the quad, the trees painted in the colors of fall. But my attention is fixed elsewhere, scanning the area for a snarky ballerina.

Over the weekend, it hit me at various times that she actually said yes. Not only that, but she signed a contract. One that basically requires her to spend time with me every week.

Aurora rounds the corner looking more graceful in sweatpants than most women do in a ball gown. Today she paired gray sweats with a light pink wrap top tied at her waist. Her pink backpack is slung over one shoulder, and she’s wearing wired earbuds. She has her hair in a ponytail today, and it occurs to me that I don’t think I’ve ever seen it down.

I lift a hand to get her attention, and she reluctantly veers toward where I’m sitting. She tugs out her earbuds and sets down a clear plastic cup half full of iced coffee. My eyes dip to the sticker that indicates her order. Salted caramel latte.

“How were your morning classes?” I ask her with a smile.

She gives me a look that makes me wonder if anyone has ever asked her how her day was. If they have, they probably didn’t ever again.

“Fine.”

“You really like that word.”

She sets her backpack in a chair and starts pulling things out. A laptop with a pink case, a Digital Logic textbook that matches the one in front of me, and a notebook with a—surprise—pink cover.

“Are ballerinas required to love pink, or is that more of a princess thing?” I ask when she doesn’t reply.

She gives me an unamused look before sitting down across from me.

“Do you have to comment on everything?”

“I’m making conversation.” I tsk. “Again with these royal manners of yours. They need some work.”

“Not unlike your grades,” she retorts. “How about we focus on those?”

She flips open her textbook to the section we’re currently working through in class.

“I should have put something in the contract about you being nice to me.”

“I wouldn’t have signed it,” she quips.

My lips lift in a smile and I shake my head, then open up my textbook to the same section.

Aurora pulls in a deep breath and lets it out.

“What do you need help with?” she asks.

I scratch the back of my neck, eying the concepts listed.

“Will you hate me if I say everything?”

When I lift my eyes from the page, Aurora is frowning, but that’s not abnormal for her.

“I won’t hate you if you’re being serious,” she replies after a moment’s thought.

“I am,” I promise her. “I don’t understand most of it. My other classes are easy, but this?” I shake my head.