Tutoring The Player Novels & Stories

She gestured me to make my first move for our seventh match this time. “That’s true, though,” I said. “Maybe they could ask for a tutor or someone who excels in academics just like Tux Yu from section A. But seeing Audi talked with Tux is impossible. That nerd guy is just so hard to spoke with,” I added, moving my piece forward.

Then, as if I were just another student watching practice, he turned his attention back to his teammate. “Alright, good. Switch legs.” The dismissal should have stung. But it didn’t. Because in that brief, silent look, I saw something else. A flicker of recognition that went deeper than words. He was compartmentalizing. On the field, he was the ace. But the look promised that later, in the shadows, the tutor would return. My train of thought was shattered by a voice that now brought a complicated mix of a flutter and an ache. “Elliot?”

“And ?” “And I’m sorry for the way I acted last time towards you, i promise to never do it again”. He replied in a robotic tone as if memorizing a speech. “I’ll do my best to give you the respect you deserve for helping me with my studies. There? Done. So be my tutor “. She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t hear a please in that impromptu speech “. “Oh my geez!”. He groaned running his hands through his hair ruffling it a bit before continuing to speak. “Please, April, can you be my tutor ?”.

In the end, I didn't move. Luca had picked up on my internal struggle and hesitation. Instead of getting mad, he pulled me into his arms. "Are you feeling ill?" I shook my head and replied, "I had a nightmare." As though something had suddenly popped into his mind, Luca's arms tightened around me, looking extremely anxious. "Believe me, Elena. To each other, Celia and I are nothing more than a parent and a personal tutor. Please don't misunderstand us." Parent and tutor? To him, was it appropriate for a tutor and her student's parent to get down and dirty in the wine cellar?

He kissed my head and packed up his stuff, leaving the room reluctantly. As the door closed behind him the teacher started to pack up some papers while mumbling. "As you know there's an exam coming up soon." I nod and respond with a yes, knowing he hadn't seen when I nodded. He looked up from the stack of papers. " We need someone to tutor this student who has been a little behind and I believe you're the perfect one for the job. I would have given it to Kaleb, however he is training for the football finals."

“Because she’s shy and hates when people read her stuff, but they are really good. Trust me when I say that. And oh, hey! Are we finally getting Tutor Jerome?” “Jerome?” Stacy asked, pinning me on the spot. “You don’t need my extra lessons.” I tried to get out of this one. “When you are trying to be the best, you kind of do.” Stacy shrugged as she blew her tea. She took a large swig of it and proposed a deal. “Okay, if you promise to Tutor me, which is something you’ve owed me for ages now, I will show you, my book.” “You really want us to do this?”

“I’m your tutor.” His smirk faltered. His eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. guess he didn't expect this to come. Professor Ambrose Mills had warned me last week that I’d be assigned an athlete for tutoring, something about a scholarship requirement and academic probation, since I could only depend on my scholarship and not screw this up, I had been hoping for someone who at least cared about school. Logan leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs in front of him. “Well, that’s awkward.”

"It's not the same setup. You read something different out there." "Maybe," he said. "Felt the same to me. Patient, then sudden." "That's the whole philosophy in two words." "I had a good teacher," Torres said, and the way he said it, simple and direct, without performance, told me he meant exactly what the words said and nothing more complicated underneath them. In the middle of it, Jax found me. "Can you play tomorrow?" he said, quiet enough that it cut through the noise around us. "Yes."

It was a victory lap in a single expression. "I need a tutor," he said. "Someone who knows the material. Someone who is going to make sure I don't lose my eligibility while I’m sitting on the sidelines. You’re going to meet me in the library every single day after my rehab sessions. You’re going to do my prep work. You’re going to make sure I pass." "I hate you," I spat. "I don't care," he said, turning back to the window. "Meet me in the library tomorrow at four. If you’re even a minute late, I might accidentally mention that pink skirt to my mother over dinner."

“Relax, Bookie. I came to talk.” “Bookie?” I repeated, frowning. “My nickname for you. That’s all you do, isn’t it? Read.” “Then talk,” I said flatly. “What do you want this time?” He sighed dramatically. “I need a tutor. I’m failing history. If I don’t pull my grade up before finals, Coach benches me. No team captain, no state championship, no scholarship. No scholarship…” His eyes narrowed slightly. “No future.” I hugged the books tighter to my chest, pulse quickening. “And you expect me to care… why?”