Tutoring

Raid

Practice was absolute hell.

Coach Daniels nearly killed us for two straight hours because apparently “state champions don’t skate like sleep deprived dads.” Which honestly felt targeted toward Cass because that idiot almost slammed face first into the barrier after missing an easy pass.

“Bennett” Coach barked across the rink. “If your head is somewhere else, get it back here.” The guys immediately started snickering. I flipped them off while skating backwards.

Because yeah, maybe my head was somewhere else. Specifically a certain angry brunette with sharp eyes and a smart mouth.

Which was annoying as shit. But I liked it.

“Cap’s distracted,” Mathias sang from beside me.

“Definitely whipped,” Cass added.

“Shut up before I body check both of you.”

They laughed harder. The worst part? They weren’t entirely wrong.

Chance Monroe had been stuck in my head since the cafeteria. The blushing. The glaring. The way she nearly exploded every time I touched her.

Cute.

By the end of practice, my entire body ached and Coach still wasn’t satisfied.

“One more lap” Fuck

The entire team groaned loudly.

“Coach,” Cass cried dramatically, nearly collapsing onto the ice, “my girlfriend needs me alive.”

“Skate, Dawson.”

I laughed under my breath before pushing off again. Cold air burned my lungs while my skates cut sharply across the rink.

Normally hockey cleared my head. Tonight? Every thought circled back to Chance. Hell, Coach almost had my balls because I missed an easy goal. Oops.

After practice, I was going through my phone in the locker room when Cass threw a towel at my face.

“You smiling at your phone again?”

I caught it lazily.

“I’m not smiling.” I definitely was.

“You literally are.”

“Oh shit, I think Bennett is falling in love with the nerd,” Cass added.

I shoved him hard enough to nearly knock him over. “Watch your mouth.”

That only made them louder.

“Oh my God,” Mathias gasped dramatically. “He’s protective now.”

“Shut up.”

Still laughing, they headed out while I stayed back, texting Chance.

“Still alive, sweet cheeks?”

No response. I leaned back against the locker with a sigh. Then an idea hit me. A stupid idea. I chuckled to myself, got my things, and left.

“What do you want, Bennett?” she grumbled immediately after answering the call.

“Ouch, I thought we were past the last name stage, sweet cheeks,” I teased. I could hear her taking deep breaths, obviously trying to calm herself down. She's so easy.

“Two seconds. You have seconds or I am hanging up.”

“Open your window,” I said, hanging up. I looked up at her bedroom window and she nearly tore the curtain trying to open it.

Her eyes went wide when they landed on me. I waved and nodded toward her door. She frantically reached for her phone and then my phone rang. I bit my lip, trying to stop myself from smiling. She looked like she was having a panic attack. This is so fun.

Ignoring her call, I walked toward the door and rang the doorbell. The porch light flicked on before the front door opened.

A woman stood there staring at me in confusion. Definitely Chance’s mother. Same eyes. Same sharp expression. Except hers softened slightly after taking me in.

“Can I help you?”

Putting on my best innocent smile, I replied, “I’m here for Chance.”

Her eyebrows lifted immediately. “Oh?” She folded her arms, now interested. “You don’t say.”

This probably looked insane. Especially because most people at Ashford knew exactly who I was.

“I’m here for tutoring,” I added quickly. Her surprise deepened.

“You’re Raid Bennett.”

I smirked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

For a second she just stared at me like she was trying to figure out why someone like me was standing on her porch asking for her daughter. As expected from the woman who birthed Chance Monroe.

Then unexpectedly, she smiled. Amused even, like she just won a bet.

“Well,” she said slowly, stepping aside, “this is definitely new.”

I walked inside while she called upstairs.

“Chance honey? Raid Bennett is here.”

A loud thud echoed upstairs immediately after. I bit back a laugh. I definitely wanted to see her face right now.

A few seconds later, hurried footsteps approached before Chance appeared at the top of the stairs wearing glasses and an oversized hoodie.

Then she saw me. And froze completely. Her expression was priceless.

“What are YOU doing here?” she whisper-yelled.

I grinned lazily from the bottom of the staircase.

“You said you were tutoring me, sweet cheeks.”

Her jaw dropped slightly. God, she was fun to mess with.

“Mom,” she hissed in horror, “why did you let him in?”

Her mother blinked innocently and then shrugged. "He seems polite.”

I nearly laughed out loud. I am anything but polite, but I’ll take that.

“Oh,” her mom said suddenly, looking between us. “The boy that definitely doesn’t exist?”

“MOM.”

I was laughing silently now. Chance looked seconds away from jumping out a window.

“There is no boy!” she argued desperately.

I looked directly at her. “Baby,” I said softly, “you’re hurting my feelings.”

Her mother gasped dramatically, putting her hand on her chest. “Baby?”

Chance looked like she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her.

“Well,” her mom smiled sweetly, “you should come in properly. Are you hungry, boy that doesn’t exist?” she asked.

I laughed. Yeah. I liked her mother.

Chance groaned loudly before turning around sharply. “Fine,” she muttered. “Come upstairs before you embarrass me further.”

I followed her upstairs while her mother watched us with entirely too much amusement.

The second we reached the hallway, Chance spun around.

“What is wrong with you?”

I shrugged, enjoying torturing her.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” I shrugged carelessly. “I needed help with chemistry.”

“You could’ve texted.”

“I did.” I raised my eyebrow.

She opened her mouth. Closed it. Then glared harder. Cute.

When she pushed open her bedroom door, I stepped inside slowly. Her room looked exactly like her. It was clean, organized, and of course books were everywhere. Sticky notes on the wall. Soft lighting. A faint vanilla scent lingering in the air. It felt warm. Real. Not fake rich-kid warm like Ashford houses. Actual home.

She immediately took down pictures of her and her mom. I laughed and dropped onto her bed lazily while she immediately pointed at me.

“Shoes off.”

I blinked. Of course she’s a neat freak too. Why am I not surprised? I stared at her for a second before laughing quietly. I kicked my shoes off before laying back against her pillows. Chance narrowed her eyes immediately.

“Why are you getting comfortable?”

“Because your bed is nice.”

“That is not the point.”

“You look cute angry too.”

Her face heated instantly. That still worked every time.

She walked toward her desk dramatically before throwing a chemistry book onto my chest.

“Open it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

For the next twenty minutes she actually tried tutoring me while I mostly watched her talk. Which was probably distracting.

The little wrinkle between her brows appeared whenever she focused too hard.

And every time she got frustrated, she started tapping her pen against the desk.

“You’re not listening,” she accused finally.

“I am.”

“You’ve been staring at me for five straight minutes.”

“That’s because you’re pretty.”

She froze immediately. Then groaned loudly.

“Oh my God, can you be serious for once?”

Then she sighed softly and leaned back in her chair.

“We actually need to talk about this fake dating thing.”