A/N: Disney owns the characters and the backdrop. I only own the angst and this piece of the hypothetical road these characters are unwittingly following. So there.

Hour 10 of what looks like a 12 hour day begins with me sighing in my car as I drive to…what's her name again?

'Andrea R.'

I have no idea who that is, since the last name is confidential, and I probably only know the last letter since there is apparently also an 'Andrea S.' in the Hillridge High freshman class that signed up for tutoring. Larry got 'Andrea S.' oddly enough, who needed algebra help. My Andrea needs biology help, and I'm not entirely psyched about that, since bio is tougher to teach without ready made worksheets and word problems.

But I signed up for this, despite my better judgment, since soccer and the film workshop were all about me. I was beginning to feel too self-centered, like I wasn't giving back, and so I signed up to be a tutor. When I explained this to my parents, they gave me a very straightforward 'You're crazy!' but said tutoring was fine (and noble, if not crazy), as long as it wasn't going to be too much with everything else I had. Then I would have to drop one of the extra-curricular activities.

So here I am at 'Andrea R's' place. The house is nice, looks a bit like Lizzie's house actually, and is probably the same model for all I know. After tossing my soccer equipment bag in the backseat and pulling my backpack off the passenger side floor. I grab my cell phone from the cup holder and yank my keys out of the ignition, and walk up to the front door.

I ring the door bell and start to straighten myself out. My outfit of a Hillridge Soccer T-shirt, track pants, and flip-flops won't exactly impress any parents, but all that matters if she pulls it together by the time the test happens.

I ring the doorbell, and here a muffled 'Just a minute' from inside the house. As soon as the door swings open I look up and my heart practically stops from the shock.

'Andrea R.'…is in fact Andie from our junior high days.

"Andie?" I ask, trying to compose myself. After all, I'm the sophomore, she's the freshman.

"Gordo? Are you my tutor?" she says with a blush and a smile.

"I…I am…how weird is that?" I ask, Andie has grown up quite a bit since she all but disappeared from view halfway through our eighth grade year. A couple inches taller, hair is back to its natural brunette way, the voice is a little deeper, and um…how do I put this without sounding like such a guy?

I give up.

Andie has breasts.

I barely have a moment to look down and make sure Andie can't notice me noticing her…you know…breasts…when she practically runs at me and throws her arms around me.

She smells nice too…I…I'm just saying.

"I can't believe it's you!! I was fighting myself about signing up for tutoring, but if I had known it was you…anyway…come in…come in," she pulls away smiling and leads me inside. My eyes linger down to her jean shorts. I think I'll have to upgrade Andie's status to 'phenomenal looking'.

She leads me to the kitchen where there is a circular breakfast table. Andie already has her textbook and notebook open as well as a cordless phone and a cell phone next to her bag. This girl clearly means business.

"How long do I have you for?" she asks as we sit at the table. I have to resist the urge to say something even mildly flirtatious, but the way she looks makes it really tough.

"I already told my parents to get started on dinner without me. So really? However long you need more for," I answer.

Ugh, that still sounded slimy.

"I can make us dinner afterwards, I mean if you want. I'm a fair cook," she suggests, and I'm all about food that I don't have to cook.

"Sure, but what about your folks? Aren't they going to be back before then?" I ask, unsure how it's any of my business.

"My mom is out of town on business, and my dad works for the local FBI field office and has already told me he'll be working late. Wish I could say this didn't happen very often, but hey, there are worse parents out there," she explains, and I get a brief glimpse of my parents nodding their heads and writing this all down. Andie's role model issues back in junior high would make a lot of sense if her parents are always gone.

But I'm not here to provide really amateur psychiatric help. I'm here to provide really amateur biology tutoring.

"Anyway, I don't want to waste any of your time, how about we get started?" she suggests.

"Sure thing," I say hoping that a brisk round of studying will get my mind out of the gutter to which it is rapidly descending.

The hour and a half or so spent on the studying came and went with little drama, interrupted only by two calls for me that went to voicemail (Tudgeman "Where are you? I finished tutoring an hour ago." and Miranda "Tutoring? God your golden boy routine is so old. Don't you owe me dinner?") and passing glances at Andie's um…shirt. Her unreasonably tight shirt, mocking me with it's…tightness.

Deep breaths…David…deep breaths.

Anyway, the material wasn't awful, but was hardly exciting for either of us. Mostly on genetics, and I'm already bored thinking about it. Biology is important, and a thrill for some, but not me, and apparently not Andy either. But she seemed to pick everything up reasonably well.

"Spaghetti and meatballs okay with you?" she asks and starts over to the kitchen.

"Sounds great. How can I help?" I ask because I just don't want to sit like a lump while she cooks for me. It would be too weird.

She opens the fridge and pulls out a package of hamburger meat, and tosses it to me. Thankfully my catching skills are still sharp even after all this time on the soccer field.

"You're on meatball making duty," she orders with a smile as she begins to pull tomato paste and other cans from a nearby pantry.

She makes the sauce from scratch? Wow…

"Fine, but no jokes about how well I can handle meat…or balls," I reply.

She looks back at me and laughs.

"No promises," she replies as she starts opening cans and dumping things into a nearby mixing bowl.

To be continued…