The Captains Tutor Girl.

Ivy

The first thing anyone should have known about me was that I didn’t have a backup plan. I had a scholarship, a part-time tutoring job, and exactly seventeen dollars in my bank account until Friday. I also had an overdue electricity bill sitting beneath my Radiography textbook because, apparently, pretending it didn’t exist counted as a financial strategy.

I sighed and pushed the book aside, revealing the bright red FINAL NOTICE stamped across the envelope. “Subtle,” I muttered, staring at the words with a tired frown.

The library was unusually quiet that morning. A few students occupied the tables around me, most of them buried beneath laptops and textbooks. Outside the tall windows, Westbury University was already alive with students rushing between buildings, cars pulling into the parking lot, and the occasional sound of laughter drifting through the open doors. I envied people who could walk across campus without calculating how much money they had left. For me, every dollar had a destination: rent, food, school supplies, my brother. There was always something.

I pulled my glasses higher on my nose and returned to my textbook, forcing myself to concentrate on the diagram in front of me. The human respiratory system had never personally offended me. My electricity bill, however, had.

I was halfway through highlighting a paragraph when my phone vibrated against the table. I glanced at the screen and frowned when I saw Unknown Number. I ignored it, hoping whoever it was would take the hint, but a few seconds later, the phone vibrated again.

With a reluctant sigh, I picked it up and answered. “Hello?” I asked, already wondering who could possibly be calling me from an unknown number this early in the morning.

“Is this Ivy Bennett?” a woman asked from the other end.

My stomach tightened. I sat a little straighter in my chair before answering, “Yes.”

“This is Mrs. Carter from the residential office. I’m calling about your outstanding electricity balance.”

Of course she was.

I closed my eyes briefly and rubbed the bridge of my nose. “I know. I’m going to pay it on Friday,” I assured her, even though the words sounded more like a desperate promise than an actual plan.

There was a brief pause on the other end. “You said that last Friday.”

“I know.” I lowered my voice, glancing around the library as though someone might somehow hear the shame in it.

“And the Friday before that,” she reminded me.

“I know,” I repeated, this time with a small sigh escaping my lips.

Another pause followed, and when Mrs. Carter spoke again, her voice was gentler. “Ivy, I’m not trying to give you a hard time, but you need to understand that we can’t keep extending the deadline.”

“I understand.” I swallowed and stared at the corner of my textbook. “And I really will have it by Friday.”

And I did understand. That was the problem. I understood everything. I understood that bills didn’t disappear because I couldn’t afford them. I understood that scholarships didn’t cover every expense. I understood that being independent sounded impressive until independence meant having nobody to call when things went wrong.

“I’ll have it by Friday,” I promised again, gripping the edge of the table beneath my fingers.

Mrs. Carter sighed softly. “All right. Friday.”

“Thank you,” I murmured, relief mixing with embarrassment as the call finally ended.

I stared at my phone for several seconds before placing it face down on the table. Seventeen dollars. I had seventeen dollars.

I leaned back in my chair and rubbed my forehead, mentally going through every possible way I could make more money before Friday. Maybe I could sell one of my textbooks. No. Absolutely not. I needed those. Maybe I could take another tutoring student, although I already had four. Maybe I could ask—

“Ivy?”

I looked up and found my academic adviser standing beside my table, holding a folder against her chest. “Dr. Miller?” I asked, quickly sitting up straighter.

She smiled at me. “Do you have a minute?”

I glanced at my textbook before looking back at her. Something about that smile made me suspicious. “I have five,” I replied cautiously, pushing my glasses higher on my nose.

“That will be enough.” She gave me a knowing smile before turning toward the hallway.

I closed my book and shoved my things into my bag, following her across the library. As I walked behind her, I couldn’t help wondering what I had done. My grades were fine. My attendance was fine. I hadn’t missed any assignments, and I certainly hadn’t broken any university rules. So why did I feel like I was being summoned to court?

We reached her office, and she opened the door for me. “Come in,” she said, gesturing toward the chair inside.

I stepped into the warm, painfully organized office and took the chair opposite her desk. Framed university certificates lined the walls, and a little plant sat beside her computer, looking suspiciously healthier than anything I had managed to keep alive.

Dr. Miller sat down and placed the folder on her desk. For a moment, she said nothing. I stared at her, and she stared back.

I hated moments like this.

Finally, she folded her hands on the desk and gave me a small smile. “I have an opportunity for you.”

I blinked, studying her expression. “An opportunity?”

“Yes.” She nodded slowly.

“That sounds dangerous.” I gave her a wary look, trying to figure out where this was going.

She laughed. “It isn’t.”

“That’s exactly what someone offering something dangerous would say.” I folded my arms, and her smile widened.

“You’re one of the best tutors in the department,” she said, leaning back in her chair.

I relaxed slightly at the compliment. “Oh.”

“You’ve maintained excellent grades, and your previous students have all given you very positive feedback.”

“That’s good.” I gave her a small smile, although I still had a feeling there was a catch.

“It is.” She opened the folder in front of her and glanced down at the papers. “I need you to tutor another student.”

I stared at her for a moment before nodding. “Okay.”

“He’s in Biomedical Engineering.”

“Okay.” I nodded again, still waiting for the part that would explain why I had been summoned to her office.

“He’s struggling academically.”

“Okay.”

“And he needs to pass.”

I nodded slowly. “Still not seeing the problem.”

Dr. Miller looked at me over the top of her glasses, and something about her expression immediately made me nervous.

“You’re going to be tutoring Ryder Knox.”

My entire body went still.

There were thousands of students at Westbury University. Thousands. And somehow, the universe had selected the one person I would have happily avoided for the rest of my life.

“Absolutely not.” I shook my head immediately, my answer coming before she could say anything else.

Dr. Miller sighed and closed her eyes for a second. “You haven’t even heard the details.”

“I don’t need them.” I leaned back in my chair, folding my arms more firmly across my chest.

“Ivy.”

“No.” I shook my head again, refusing to budge.

“He needs help.”

“He needs a help?” I repeated, staring at her. “I thought he needed a personality transplant.” I raised my eyebrows at her, completely serious.

Her lips pressed together as she tried not to laugh. I wasn’t joking.

Ryder Knox was the captain of Westbury’s hockey team, and he was also one of the most irritating human beings I had ever encountered. He was tall—obnoxiously tall—six-foot-something of expensive clothes, messy dark hair, arrogant smirks, and an attitude that suggested the entire university had been built specifically for his convenience.

I had spoken to him maybe three times. That had been more than enough.

The first time, he had walked straight past me in the hallway and knocked my books out of my hands without apologizing. The second time, he had called me—

I frowned, searching my memory.

What had he called me?

“Bookworm,” I remembered aloud, my expression souring at the memory.

Yes.

Bookworm.

The third time, he’d taken the chair I had been sitting in at the student café because, apparently, he hadn’t noticed that I was already there. Or he’d noticed and simply hadn’t cared.

Neither possibility made me like him.

“He doesn’t want a tutor,” Dr. Miller continued, drawing my attention back to her.

“Then we’re in agreement.” I gave her a small, satisfied smile, as though we had just solved the problem.

“But the university has made it mandatory.”

“Congratulations to the university.” I shrugged, completely unimpressed.

“And you’re the best person for the job.”

I stared at her.

She stared back.

Slowly, I leaned forward, lowering my voice as I asked the only question that suddenly mattered. “How much?”

Her eyebrows lifted. “I beg your pardon?”

“How much does it pay?” I repeated, sitting back in my chair.

A knowing smile appeared on her face. “Enough to make you reconsider.”

I hated that she knew me so well.

“How much?” I asked again, unable to hide the curiosity in my voice.

She told me.

My mouth fell open.

That was not tutoring money.

That was rent.

That was electricity.

That was groceries.

That was—

I swallowed hard, suddenly aware that my principles were being severely tested.

“When do I start?”

“Today.” Dr. Miller answered so casually that I almost groaned.

My shoulders dropped. “Of course.”

She slid the folder across the desk toward me, and I stared down at the name printed across the front.

RYDER KNOX.

I stared at it for a long moment before letting out a quiet sigh. “I’m going to regret this.”

Dr. Miller smiled, looking far too pleased with herself. “Probably.”

I opened the folder and began scanning his academic record. His grades were terrible. Actually, terrible was generous. I frowned as I moved through the pages.

“How did he even get into Biomedical Engineering?” I asked, looking up at her with genuine disbelief.

“He’s intelligent.” Dr. Miller said it as though that should have been obvious.

I looked back at his transcript. “That’s debatable.”

“He’s capable. He just doesn’t apply himself.”

I flipped another page, my frown deepening. His attendance was inconsistent. His assignments were late. His exam scores were barely scraping the required average. And somehow, despite all of that, he was still the captain of the university hockey team.

I couldn’t understand it. How could someone be so talented at something and so careless about everything else?

“He has one condition,” Dr. Miller said.

I looked up from the file. “What?”

“He refuses to work with anyone who treats him like he’s stupid.”

I almost laughed. “I wouldn’t have that problem.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because I don’t think he’s stupid.” I closed the folder halfway, a small smile tugging at my lips. “I think he’s lazy.”

That time, she actually laughed.

I stood and slipped my bag over my shoulder. “Fine.”

“Fine?” she repeated, watching me closely.

“I’ll tutor him.” I sighed, already regretting the decision.

“Good.”

“But if he fails, I’m not taking responsibility.” I pointed a warning finger at her, making sure she understood.

“You’re not going to let him fail.”

“I might.” I gave her a stubborn look.

“You won’t.” Her smile told me she knew exactly how this would end.

I headed toward the door, shaking my head. “Have I mentioned that I don’t like you very much right now?”

“Several times.” She laughed as I opened the door.

I was halfway out when she called after me.

“Ivy?”

I turned around. “Yes?” I asked, waiting.

“He’s expecting you in the hockey academic room at four.”

I stared at her. “Today?” I asked, my voice rising slightly in disbelief.

She nodded.

I looked down at the folder in my hand, then back at her. Four hours. I had four hours before I had to sit across from Ryder Knox. Four hours to prepare myself mentally. Four hours to convince myself that I could survive tutoring the most arrogant man at Westbury University.

I should have known I was wasting my time.

Because at four o’clock, when I walked into that room and found Ryder Knox sitting alone at the end of the table, his hockey jersey hanging loosely against his broad shoulders, his dark hair still damp from practice, and his eyes lifting slowly toward me, my entire body seemed to tense.

He smiled.

Not a friendly smile. Not even a polite one.

It was a slow, irritating smile that made my stomach twist for reasons I immediately refused to examine.

His gaze dropped to the folder in my hands before returning to my face. “Well,” he said, his deep, lazy voice carrying across the quiet room.

He leaned back in his chair, looking entirely too comfortable as his eyes traveled over me once more. “Looks like they finally found someone desperate enough to deal with me.”

I tightened my grip on the folder, refusing to let his arrogance intimidate me. “Looks like they did.”

His eyebrow lifted slightly, as though he hadn’t expected me to answer.

I walked toward the table and pulled out the chair opposite him, forcing myself to remain calm despite the uncomfortable flutter in my stomach.

I already hated him.

And I had a horrible feeling that Ryder Knox was going to make sure I hated him even more.