I know: I've been out of practice for so long. And no, this new story is NOT going to deter me from The Bite: Afterlife or The Hunted Sequel: Unlimited Eternity. This is just something to help get me back in the swing of writing because I haven't even touched my own personal novels, and I honestly had lost my writing drive. My mind has been blocked so I figure, why not write about something different - something that could possibly inspire you. Yes, this is a Nax fic (Nelson/Max) - No, I do not particularly ship them since im a die hard TAX fan but ya know sometimes writers have to expand their horizons and do something outside of their comfort zone. This is gonna be short, more than likely only four chapters since I don't PLAN any real drama but my fingers have a mind of their own. Wait...that sounded pretty gross. Anyways, I'm going to spend the majority of tomorrow coming up with new ideas for The Bite and be checking your notifications this upcoming weekend because there WILL be an update: whether I like it or not. Anyways, I love you guys.

And please excuse any punctuation or any other mistakes. I sorta kinda just did a fly by night on this.

THE TUTOR

Say Yes

He practically ran out of the front door, slamming it shut on the voice hollering at him. Worthless. Good for nothing. A debt. That was all his father saw him as. The teen couldn't believe that the old man actually thought he OWED him for his father doing his job: to raise a son. The teen gritted his teeth, jogging down the front steps and off the front lawn towards his car. To all of his "friends" at school it was the boy's baby; his everything. But in reality the kid didn't give two flying dicks about it. It was nothing but another payoff, another "insurance policy" from his dad. But he had to pretend – had to keep up the persona that everything was perfect, without blemish at all. He opened the car door, looked in the rearview mirror and practiced an artificial smile of wonder. Yep. He'd become real good at this. The gear was thrown into shift and without hesitation the anger was left behind…for now. But sooner or later he'd have to return to the Nash household…sooner or…later.

Life for Nelson Nash was, for a lack of a better word, complicated. It seemed impossible that someone so hot and talented like himself could ever have anything less than a 1950's television script of a life but appearances were not always as they seemed. "Stupid old man," he growled as he flew down the streets towards Hill High. The cell phone in the cup holder rang but he ignored it knowing it was only Blade calling again. They had got into an argument yesterday evening when Nelson couldn't make it over for a date. She had said she was done with his bum ass, tired of being thrown around in circles by him. Blade had sounded pretty convincing last night and Nelson had hoped that this time it was for real: the sex was great, and it always looked good to have a hot babe like herself on his arm but he knew: knew she only cared about what he made her look like. Nash knew that Blade was calling to apologize and invite him over after school to "talk" (which usually only meant stripping down and screwing the hell out of him) if he gave her a ride to school…so she could look good stepping out of his whip and be the envy of every other girl on campus. The super star jock clicked his teeth in annoyance. Her ass was walking like everyone else. He was done messing around with Blade – their relationship was starting to fall on the same level as McGinnis and Tan and Nash did NOT have the patience for a rollercoaster ride. There were enough ups and downs in his life. Was there no one who saw him for he was?

The car pulled into the parking lot speedily – and before the teen had a chance to shut off the ignition a crowd of groupies began to surround the sleek vehicle of the future. Nash took a deep breath and opened the car door with his infamous sneer wearing perfectly across his face, high fiving some of the team members and wrapping an arm around a cheerleader as she blushed and pretended to want him off of her…yet she leaned into him running her hand along his chest.

"By the way Nash," one of the team members, Allens, said, "Coach canceled practice tonight."

Shit. Now there was no reason for him to not go straight home after school. "Slaggit. Why would he do that? We've got a big game against NY High next week for State qualifications." The boys nodded in respect as the girls swooned. He always talked so big and important when it came to sports. If only they knew it was only an escape.

"I know man. But he spewed some shit about finals on Wednesday. Said if we don't get a decent grade then we cant play. So no practice all weekend."

Another teammate – Carter – chimed in insulted, "He wants us to study. What crap is that? Right man?"

All eyes fall on Nelson, expecting him to lead the rebellion like he always did. All of them were too idiotic to accept that Coach may have had a point; even Nelson perhaps was too blind to want to accept that. All he cared about was practice – knocking heads around to let off steam without blame. It wouldn't be seen as hostility, or a cry for help: but a guy taking the game seriously. Nelson high fived the guy and snarled, "Damn straight! Who needs to study? We need to win that State Championship trophy! Coach is dregged if he thinks I'm going to waste practice time studying."

"I don't know Nash," a voice from behind the group on the sidewalk added in coolly. "You've barely got enough brain cells as is – maybe you should build em up for cushion. Ya know, so you want be a complete idiot after high school."

Nash narrowed his eyes angrily at the guy he hated the most beside his father: Terry McGinnis, standing there acting all cool and tough with his hands stuffed into his pockets and giving the jock and taunting expression. Terry wanted a fight? He'd get it. Nelson unwraps his arm from the cheerleader and points a threatening finger at the reject. "You'd better watch yourself McGinnis, or I might have to stomp you back into the 20th century."

"Ooooo, I'm shaking in my boots Nelson."

The sports captain began to walk forward, glowering as his fist balled and McGinnis took the same course of action. But there was one thing that stopped him: the sensual voice of her trailing towards them. "Knock it off dregs," said the brown beauty putting herself between both boys. "We've got better things to do, yes?" Maxine Gibson. The hottest geek, and one of the hottest girls, on campus. Her large brain complimented her body rather well as Nelson took a slight step back looking her up and down. She was wearing something different today – a short sleeve golden colored crop top exposing and showing off a perfectly flat and toned mid-drift, tan cargo pants with a dark brown belt around the loops to hold them up and gold and brown throwback men's high-top gym shoes. It looked so…retro, so early 1990's, so tomboyish…and still somehow so sexy. Her neon pink hair had grown out a little and she wore it in a thick boyish crop that held a lot of body up top before trailing down to barely nothing at the nape of her neck, even grew out some curly bangs that nearly covered her brows.

Max, in spite of her "geekery" as the others called it, was who Nash considered a friend. He had a soft spot for her, a spot that turned into mush every time he saw her. Only Max was a good enough reason not to pummel McGinnis right here where he stood and lay waste to the freak. "Tell your best friend to keep an eye on his back, Gibby," Nelson warned her. "You can't save him all the time."

"Lay off it Nash," Max retorted, jabbing a finger into his chest without the slightest care in the world. Other kids may have been intimidated by the popular boy but not her.

Terry scoffed, folding his arms into his chest as the secret Batman teased, "Looks like she's worried about your safety, Nash."

"More like she's trying to hold me back from destroying your precious face, McGinnis. But then," Nash stated coyly, pulling Max into his arms and leaning in for her lips, "I wouldn't mind her worrying about me. Hmmm Gibby?"

Gibson pulled back from him as he tried to lean closer, exclaiming loudly, "Ewww Nash! No way!" She opened her mouth, pointing her finger towards the back of her throat and pretended to puke before Terry grabbed the genius's belt and guided her back into the safety of his arms.

"Yeah Max. Gag much." Terry's arm looped itself across his best friend's shoulder as they strutted back towards the building as the morning bell clanged noisily and the school parking lot began to empty; even Nash decided to attend classes today. But it wasn't for the education – he didn't understand a single thing that was being taught anyway – it was to see her.

It was safe to say that over the past couple of years Nelson Nash had been growing rather fond of Max Gibson. There seemed to be no end to her wit and carefree resolution of life. Do what you want because you can; and if there are consequences then oh well: you live and you learn. That seemed to be the intelligent female's motto and take on this teenage existence they were burdened with. She was different: complex and yet so simple. There was one problem however. One thing kept him away from growing closer to her the way he wanted. Her pitiful excuse of a best friend. Max was always on Terry's hip, even far more than Dana Tan was and Nelson couldn't stand it because Terry refused to let him socialize with Max – it was like he was some kind of disease and Terry was the white blood cells meant to protect the babe's body from infection. Nash paused. Huh? He actually remembered some science? Shway. But he had to get her by herself. He had to really learn about her…maybe even-.

"NASH!" Coach hollered from the front steps. "GET YOUR BUTT OVER HERE NOW!" Great.

It was an ordinary Friday – or at least it was supposed to be. Maxine Gibson, class brain, pink haired bad ass, and bomb bodied femme was walking down the hall towards her Electronic Software Management class after having left her textbook in her and Chelsea Cunningham's locker; not like she was going to need it anyway. Gibson smirked. It was the last class before lunch and Max dashed towards it speedily as if getting there faster would help her get some grubbage into her stomach sooner. It had been a busy night and early morning for her and due to all the chaos she had to skip out on dinner AND breakfast.

Damn Terry McGinnis to the darkest halls of the Bat Cave. Every time something went haywire he called on her. What was it last night? Two words. Mad. Stan. She could feel her head swirling just at the thought of it. The warning bell screeched as some students ran at top speed, others lazing about without a care in the world: damn drop outs. But Max could see her door directly up ahead and slowed down knowing that she'd make it in time. Their teacher Mr. Hardy Quinzel was a tough guy to please and made it a thing to lock all tardy students out of class once the final bell rang. Sometimes it was only for about ten minutes – enough to make the average student miss enough information to fail a test or pop quiz – other times the door never opened back up at all. Gibson had never been late before; needless to say she may have been a wild thing on the streets but she took her education rather seriously. She wanted to have options – to be somebody, to be whoever SHE wanted to be. And the only way to achieve that was with success.

Max stopped outside of the door preparing to take a step forward for the class when something large bumped into her, knocking Gibson backwards with a cry of shock before a loud, "SHIT!" and buff arm encased in the Hill High sports jacket thrust out, wrapping around the girl's lower back and catching her.

He had been watching her for quite some time now; always monitoring the girl's movements – the things she did, the things she avoided and in all honesty he couldn't resist the temptation to touch her body one good time and feel the warmth of her flesh, the scent of her, to mingle with his own. Call it desperation if you will but….he couldn't resist.

"What the hell?!" Max demanded, head spinning before coming face to face with her assaulter slash savior.

"Sorry Gibby," he chirped, a strand of red hair falling over his perfect face, teeth glistening, face just inches from hers. Cocky bastard.

"Nelson, get off," Max huffed, flustered by how close their faces were and feeling strange about the way Nash was looking into her eyes, shoving him back as she stood up straight and dusted herself off, shaking her cropped hair wildly until it settled perfectly on her head, accenting her brown skin rather beautifully.

Nelson Nash – captain of pretty much every cool sport at Hamilton Hill, hottie, jock, and all around playboy smiled, holding his hands up in surrender with a mock grin. "Sorry Gibby," Nash repeated; his smile turning a bit more lusting as his dark eyes overlooked her body – that tiny waist, those wide hips and plump ass, the delicious mountains on her chest. "Wow Gibby, you look nice…even if the pants and shoes are for boys."

Max slouched her hips to the left – Nash smirked some more – and held up a finger, rotating it to match her attitude. "Yeah well, I make boy clothes look good baby. Now if you'll excuse me-."

"Actually Gibby-."

"Booooooooy!" Max threatened with a death stare.

"Max," Nelson corrected, leaning forward and placing his weight on the hand he had on the wall behind her. "I was wondering what you were doing tonight?"

Gibson's brows narrowed after her heart performed a spiral death drop. Was he – asking her out on a date? Max's heart pounded heavily in her stomach or wherever the hell it had fallen down to. Ooooooh no! "I'm going out with Terry."

"McGinnis the Menace?" Nash scoffed, insulted. "I mean what are you doing tonight that's actually meaningful?"

"Like I said, I'm hanging with Terry tonight."

"Well change of plans: I need a tutor."

A tutor? What was this strange feeling of disappointment? Naturally he would need a tutor: there was no way he could want anything more out of her, right? And yet the way he gazed at her sometimes somehow had her under the impression that he felt differently. Oh well, back to normal. "Psh, as if Nash!" Max exclaimed – walking around him towards the class door just as the bell rang. One foot was inside, one foot right on her perfect attendance record…until the jock had to screw it up.

"Why not?" Nelson demanded as he grabbed her wrist and yanked her back out to talk to him. He hated being ignored. Didn't she know who he was? Mother fucking Nelson Nash! Captain, State Champion, the sex god of this city. No one walked away from him, not unless they wanted him to chase them. Girls liked to be chased, and even though most of the time they came flocking to him, he found the ones you go after are the best…especially in the bed.

The classroom door closed, Mr. Quinzel giving Max as look of disappointment as she looked at him terrified before wheeling an angry gaze back at the Sports Captain. "God damnit Nelson! What the hell is your problem?!"

"Me? I need a tutor!"

"I said forget it! I know your track record. You can't stay focused, no amount of rearranging and adjusting the teaching method seems effective on you, your cell phone is a sin even for Satan himself, and when you're 'bored' aka horny, you decide to take it upon yourself to screw the tutor."

Nelson grinned innocently. "It's not that bad," he counters.

Max snatches her wrist from him and glares, counting on each finger. "Jessica, Britney, Samantha, Margot, even precious little Becky."

"Nothing happened with Becky."

"Trust me, something happened with Becky. Look Nelson," Max added, folding her arms across her chest, "I'm not going to risk it. I've got better things to do with my night than waste hours on someone who really doesn't want to learn and have to beat them off with a stick."

"Sounds rather uncomfortable."

"Being in your presence IS." Gibson turned to knock on the door, hoping that her brilliance and puppy pout would appeal to Mr. Quinzel's better nature. But Nelson grabbed her again – this time gentler, more timid as he looked into her eyes with the most pathetic and heart-wrenching gaze she'd ever seen. Only Matt could have that effect on her!

"Max…please. If I don't pass Logistics with at least a C then coach is kicking me off the team for the remainder of the year. He said I'm one hell of a player, but even players have a brain to use. He called me dumb." Max felt tempted to agree but decided to keep her lips shut. "Anyways," Nelson continued, "you know how much I love sports. I've got nothing without them. Please Max. You're the only person who can help me. I'm begging. You're one of my few true friends and I need you; you wouldn't abandon me now in my dire time of need – would you?" Oh yippy – a guilt trip. He was just as bad as Terry if not worse. Why was she surrounded by such selfish idiots who couldn't go piss without holding her hand? Max stood there, avoiding the gaze he consistently unleashed upon her until she sighed.

"Fine. But you come ready to actually LEARN something Nash or I will push you off my balcony."

"I swear," Nelson exclaimed cheerily, throwing his arms around Gibson in a strong embrace, pausing for only a brief moment to place his lips near enough to brush against her throat. He could feel her arms around him as well in the hug and groaned internally. Why did her touch have to feel so comforting? So right? Mr. Popular finally sets her down and playfully slides his palm downward towards her buttocks until Max's hand reaches back and stops him. "Can't promise I won't try to get in your pants though."

"NASH!"

Nelson licked his lips and winks. "They look like they have such nice things underneath them." And without another word the jock was off at the end of the hallway smiling to himself in excitement, leaving Maxine stranded…Quinzel never did reopen the door.

To Be Continued…