A/N: Just to clarify, Georgia high school system allows for passing grades A-C where C- = 70% (lowest you can pass with). There is no D or E below 70%, only F. So when Bella gets a C or a C-, she is, in the truest sense of the word, barely passing.
(Also, unlike university GPA scales, high school GPA in Georgia often follows a 100-point scale.)
…
Scheduled for Friday
by Anton M.
27: Tutoring
…
Saturday, January 28 (cont.)
"Okay, I'm not sure this makes sense. Based on what you gave me, you seem to have gotten the highest GPA in the beginning of last semester when you claim to have been the most stressed and had the least time for studying."
"What's my result there?"
"89.05 for the first two credits that roughly fall in August, September, and October."
"That's a solid B!"
"That's almost an A, baby," Edward replied, locking eyes with me, clearly just teasing me with the baby even if I felt all aflutter at the moniker. We were both lying on our backs with our heads resting on throw pillows and our feet on top of the couch. Jake was sunbathing in the corner of the carpet beside us.
Edward had not only made me take some kind of online VAK test but also a separate test he made up. Meanwhile, he was calculating my GPAs per semester, splitting the semesters, and made me fill out yet another thing asking me about my work hours. His requests were so detailed I had to open my calendar and match my working hours with specific classes I'd taken at Willie W. Smith. Edward sometimes adjusted my results based on how strict he felt the teachers were (a C for Mrs. Alston was a B, but an A for Mr. Cowart may as well have been an F given how little Edward thought of him).
"Did you study in advance in the summer for the fall semester? Did you like the classes more? Or was there something else different those few months?"
"Mom!" I yelled. She appeared, upside-down from my view, and Edward shifted to sit properly but I gripped his knee to keep him from moving. I felt his sharp eyes on my face but he stayed still.
"Tutoring has changed since I was last in school," mom said with a smile in her voice.
"Don't question the methods until the results justify it," I replied. "Do you remember when we had on location shooting in Savannah? We definitely travelled back and forth in September but do you remember how long it went on?"
"Began in August." Mom tapped her forehead, thinking. "Ended in… early November? Charlie will remember."
My dad shouted his confirmation before mom disappeared into the kitchen again.
"How do you study on location?" Edward asked, turning his head on the throw pillow. His casual proximity made me fill up with warmth, and I spent a lot of energy ignoring how his elbow brushing against mine gave me the most breathtaking goosebumps.
"I don't know how you usually do it," I answered. "Our tutor hated it. We had lots of unexpected changes to our schedule and had to study on the go a lot. Sometimes we were literally outside, walking, standing, stuff like that."
"But did you enjoy it?"
"I never had enough time to think about whether I enjoyed it or not. I was just grateful I didn't fuck up those classes."
Edward licked his lips, a knowing glint in his eye, asking me to finish my quiz, and when I did and turned my phone towards him, he grinned.
Kinesthetic learner, my quiz result read.
"So smug," I accused, flicking my index finger against his bicep. His muscle was warm and hard and twisted my heart. "If you knew the answer all along, why'd you make me do seven thousand tests for it?"
"I… had a suspicion," Edward replied modestly. "You did not study for your first on-screen kiss, or read about it. You wanted to experience it."
I stifled my smile because I wasn't sure we'd ever touched the topic of our kiss together, but of course he was right.
"Dad! Edward has determined that my grades suck because I have all the kinetic energy!"
"It's kines—" Edward began to correct me before we locked eyes and he realized I did it on purpose. "The other thing is," he continued, ignoring my shout, "you should stop taking notes when you read. You're better when you don't."
"But I thought I'm a kinesthetic learner, not a visual one."
"Everyone's a mix. You just lean much stronger towards kinesthetic processing."
"Okay. I believe you, Fancy Words. But, everyone always says you learn better when you take notes."
"Yeah, everyone always isn't Bella, and I tested you. You're better when you don't take them."
Suddenly, Edward held his old laptop in the air as he turned and sat up, and I realized my parents were watching us from the hallway.
"What's a kinesthetic learner?" dad asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.
"It's someone who processes information through what they experience and feel rather than what they read or hear," Edward answered dutifully.
Mom watched me with kind eyes before she looked at Edward. "You could've just asked us how Bella studies her lines," mom said. "Walking around, sitting upside down, lying on the carpet, imagining all the scenarios, reciting and mumbling. Hell, I don't think she's studied on her desk once. I mean, look at her."
I felt a bit self-conscious with all of them analyzing me like that, so I, too, sat up.
"So how do we fix me?"
The soft twinkle in Edward's eye lit me up from the inside. "You don't," he said. "That's the whole point. You have to work with it, not against it."
"You mean my parents have to let me hang from the ceiling when I learn my lines?"
He hesitated, clearly fighting not to go against my parents. "Would be better if they did," he admitted.
"Yes!" I shouted, high-fiving Edward before I jumped up and ran to my parents. "Validation," I said, squishing their cheeks, thinking of all the evenings they'd admonished me to sit still. "We're paying this guy a hundred bucks an hour."
"Bella, you can't—" Edward started before I cut him off.
"Two hundred bucks an hour," I corrected. "Getting higher every time you argue about it."
Edward shook his head. "You know I'm doing this for free."
"Not anymore you're not," I said, even though my parents and I had already agreed to pay him before he turned out to be some kind of savant. My parents, shaken but happy, returned to the kitchen, and I lay down on the floor again with my feet up on the couch, but Edward sat by me like a normal human with his laptop on his thighs.
I had a beautiful view of his jawline from underneath. I wondered if he shaved. He had a nick on the left side of his neck, just under his jaw, so he probably did.
"What's your learning style?" I asked, grateful beyond imagination for how seen he'd made me feel.
"What do you think?" he shot back, his eyes running over my face in a way that made me giggly inside.
"From what I've heard, you popped out of the womb in a library, took your first breath and sucked all knowledge out of everything within a fifty mile radius. Obviously normal human rules don't apply to you."
Edward's laptop almost slid off his thighs as he laughed, and I felt all warm and mushy inside for having caused it.
"What's your GPA?" I asked.
"Bella…"
"No fake modesty," I warned. "Is it, like, a hundred and twenty? You're so smart your weighted average passes a hundred?"
Edward grinned before he licked his lips, and my jaw dropped.
"No," I said. "Is it really?"
"It's not," he replied apologetically. "It's… 99.92."
"No!" I gasped. "Not a hundred and five? Disappointed, Edward. I am dis-a-ppointed. How do you live with yourself?! Did your dad make you sleep on the porch when he found out? He must've been devastated."
Edward covered his face with his palm as he laughed.
"You are ridiculous," he replied, eyes alight with humor.
"And you are far too happy for a guy who broke up with his girlfriend barely a day ago."
My stomach twisted when laughter disappeared from Edward eyes. Immediately, I wanted to take back my words. Was he still pining for her, even if he'd been angry yesterday? Worse yet, was he happy because they'd made up last night? The thought hadn't even occurred to me.
Dread filled me. If I returned to school on Monday and walked in on them making out in the corridor, I didn't think I'd survive that again. Had they made up? Or, almost as bad, had he forgiven her and figured out a plan to get her back? Did he want to get her back?
"Sorry," I squeezed his shin. "It's none of my business."
Stop touching the boy.
"Bella," Edward said, voice normal and giving nothing away, but I didn't want to look at him. I was preparing to show him my most convincing smile, like one a supportive friend would've given him rather than a stupid girl who harbored an unrequited crush on a senior.
"Did you work things out with her?" I kept my voice level and eyes on my screen.
"Why would I do that," Edward replied, somewhere between a snort and a laugh. He pulled my ankles to him and tucked them under his armpit, his sparkling eyes not leaving the screen.
"What're you doing?" I asked, ridiculously relieved by his denial.
"I'm holding your feet hostage until you stop asking stupid questions," Edward replied, stifling his smile. I was so charmed by his playfulness and how warm my feet were against his muscles that I couldn't find a properly quippy response to him.
"What happened with you two, anyway?" I asked, my quiet voice at odds with how eager I was to hear his answer. "Why're you so mad at her?"
Edward paused, watching me in silence with this simmering, calculating energy in his eyes before he shrugged. "Don't think I ever really knew her."
Ugh. Tell me your secrets, you frustrating boy.
I was reminded of Mike's words from only a few days ago about how dating someone you'd had a crush on for a long time could end in disappointment because you'd built them into a different person in your head. At the time, I'd thought about my own crush on Edward and how I didn't feel that Mike's words applied to me at all, but I hadn't even considered that this was what could've happened with Edward and Lauren. Was it? Was that what happened? But what did she do that he stayed so royally pissed at her for the entire Friday and yet, here he was, totally fine?
How long did it usually take to get over a break-up, anyway?
I definitely wanted to pry but I felt like he needed time to tell me what really happened, so we turned our attention to Biology and Physical Sciences. Edward was a patient and supportive tutor—just like Jasper had said—and he didn't mention how I switched positions every few minutes even if I now felt crazy self-conscious of doing it. He made me write a short essay on Antigone by Sophocles for World Literature and Composition for Monday and pulled a throw pillow under his chest as he lay down next to me on the carpet to check it. Watching his eyelashes move as he read, I wondered if I could've gotten away with touching the spiky silver barbell on his eyebrow.
Edward pulled his bottom lip in his mouth as he finished reading.
"It's a solid B," he said.
"But…?"
Edward rubbed his neck, smiling apologetically.
"You can say it," I encouraged.
"It's a bit… generic."
I hid my face in my throw pillow as I laughed.
"What?"
"Edward, if I had something to say about a play written hundreds of years BC that hasn't been said already, I should've already been appointed professor in some fancy university." I pointed at him, struggling to hide my laughter. "Also—"
"Also…?"
"I didn't write that," I admitted. "ChatGPT did."
Edward's eyes went comically wide as he turned and poked my elbow, but his eyes were teasing. "You cheater."
"Hey—"
"You cannot—"
I put my palm against his mouth, shutting him up. "Better," I said, grinning, giddy inside at holding his warm mouth in my palm. "Now, listen to me. First off, I have no business developing a skill a computer can do for me. If my best skill was writing essays I'd kill myself, but it's not, and if you want to see my analysis skills, just talk to me. Second of all—" I switched the windows to my own essay. "I wrote this one. Okay?" I let go of his mouth. "I'm not a cheater. I just wanted to see what grade I'd get if I used ChatGPT. Good to know it's a solid B."
Edward gaped, his eyes drinking in my face as he digested my words before he took a breath and grinned at the computer.
"What?" I asked.
He swayed towards me, nudging my shoulder and tilting his head towards me. His eyes were lit with admiration. "Smart," he said, all signs of arguing gone.
His compliment tugged at my heart.
"I thought we agreed that my current GPA of 74.70 is a pathetic excuse of a GPA."
"I don't think your grades are a good reflection of your type of information processing."
Edward found my own essay to be more reflective of an actress writing about a play, and Jake hopped on Edward's back as we bantered about it. Given his inexperience with cats, Edward hesitated while my grey one-eared fur ball made himself comfortable on his upper back and began to… lick Edward's neck.
You smug sonofabitch, Jake. Getting more action with my crush than I am.
"What is wrong with your cat?" Edward asked, smiling but frozen in his position.
No, Edward. The question is, what is right with my cat. My cat has impeccable taste, you see, just like his owner, and if I could get away with lying on top of you and licking your neck I'd do it in a heartbeat.
"Give the poor Mr. Bahati some credit," I replied instead. "Gay cats have feeling too, you know."
Jake shook up and down as Edward laughed but he kept licking Edward's neck as if nothing was happening.
Can't blame you, Jakey. Bet the man smells amazing.
"Why's he called Mr. Bahati?" Edward asked, holding himself up on his elbows. I petted Jake on his back and ignored how Edward's gaze on my neck gave me goosebumps. He was so close I could feel the hair of his forearm tickle my knuckles.
"It's my middle name," I explained. "Means luck or lucky in Swahili. Very cheesy."
"I like it. Did your birth father give you that name?"
"No," I replied. "My mom did. She wanted to put a click in my name, like you'd sometimes have in the native language of my biological father, but even with her linguistic prowess she just could not find names in that language, and my biological father has Swahili roots, too, so… yeah."
"What's the language?"
"Rumanyo," I replied.
Edward squinted, searching my eyes. "Never heard of it."
"Not many people have."
"Does he know you exist?"
"No. My mom was fifteen and the guy was twenty five when I was conceived," I replied quietly. "Mom lied about her age, but that doesn't change the fact that, technically… that's statutory rape. He must know of the possibility of my existence since mom did tell him she got pregnant, but she told him her real age and he freaked out. He gave her money for an abortion but obviously she never had one, and… nine months later, I was born. He's not on my birth certificate, either. It's blank."
"Whoa, that's… complicated."
I shut the lid of my laptop and rested my cheek on my crossed arms, looking at him.
"Do you blame him for freaking out?" Edward asked.
"Oh hell no," I replied. "Anyone would've. I would've. Mom was just young and stupid and didn't know there was an actual law against having sex with a fifteen-year-old, now we're just making sure the guy doesn't have to face legal consequences for something that was technically not his fault."
"How did your dad come into the picture? Your current one?"
"Dad was best friends with mom, all the way from childhood. Fell in love as teenagers but both were too chicken-shit to do anything about it. Then, dad got testicular torsion. Do you know what that is?"
"Never heard of it."
"I don't know the details but he was too embarrassed to go to the doctor even with crippling pain. Lost both testicles. So, at fourteen, he started getting testosterone shots and was told he'd never have children, and, I mean… you don't know shit at fourteen, but he knew he could never tell mom he was head over heels in love with her because my mom always knew she wanted to be a mother at some point. He didn't want to take that away from her, so when mom gathered her guts to tell dad how she felt a few months later, dad broke her heart. Didn't tell her why.
"Mom already had this stifling upbringing where she was constantly accused of lying and having sex when she was doing neither, so, broken-hearted as she was, she decided that if she's being accused of all the things she'd better live up to the accusations. Got pregnant, told dad, considered having an abortion, but dad broke and told her why he rejected her, both dropped out of school and had me. Dad wanted himself on my birth certificate but mom wanted to give him a few years to make sure he was really in it, and… they got married and started paperwork on my adoption as soon as both turned eighteen. And we all lived happily ever after."
"Holy shit. That's… complicated. Would make a great movie, though."
"I know, right?"
It was always such a wonder how easy it was to share stuff with Edward, and I petted Jake just as mom walked in the living room and stood by the armchair.
"Did you guys fall asleep?"
I turned. "Nah, I was just telling Edward the story of how I came to be."
Mom raised her eyebrows. "The whole story?"
"The whole story."
Mom knew that the whole story did not include revealing the identity of my biological father or the fact that Edward technically knew who he was, and I'd only really shared the whole, whole story with Alice.
"You are quite determined to have your friends hate me, aren't you?" mom said with a smile in her voice.
"No, ma'am," Edward replied, twisting his body to see my mom as he struggled to get up with Jake on his shoulders. "I assure you—"
"It's okay, honey," mom cut off his apologies. "If I had issues with Bella talking about it I wouldn't have told her the mistakes I made. It's a good cautionary tale and… I was a stupid little shithead. Wouldn't blame you for judging me."
Edward blinked at my mom calling herself names in front of him, but mom just shot him a 'whatcha gonna do' kind of smile before she turned towards me. "Sweetie, didn't you want to start getting ready for your date? Peter's picking you up in half an hour—"
"Oh shit I thought I put an alarm!"
Jake hopped off of Edward's shoulders when I jumped up. Mom left to get money for Edward, and Edward looked taken aback as he watched me clear the floors and shove notebooks in my backpack. He sat up.
"That was today?" he asked in a low, distant voice.
"What a friend you are," I teased, nudging him. "Forgetting my first date. Of course that was today."
"I thought…" Edward cleared his throat. "Are you doing this for the series you're in?"
"What? No!" I denied, realizing only a moment later that his suggestion would've been a fantastic excuse to go out with two guys. "No. I like Peter," I admitted, quieter, shrugging. "And Emmett's great, too. They just both asked me out at the same time. It's a good point, though. Maybe I should get a proper make-out session in before my first on-screen make-out. Definitely also need to lose my V-card before my first on-screen sex scene, so… not a bad idea. Thanks, Edward."
Edward stared at me with open-mouthed unease.
"Relax." I laughed at his expression. "I won't make you do it this time, so no reason to look quite so alarmed."
Dad tapped the edge of an envelope against his palm as he entered the living room. Edward, always respectful around my parents, stood up.
"Here." Dad handed it to Edward. "For tutoring."
Edward held his hands behind his back and shook his head. "No, sir. It's okay. I'm doing this for free."
Dad groaned. "Please. If your tutoring is the only thing keeping Bella in school, so be it, but you must allow us reward you. We know she's a handful."
"No, sir, that's really not necessary—"
I took the envelope from dad, opened Edward's sweatpants, and slid it in his pants. Edward gaped.
"I don't have time for this," I said, grinning. "Take it before I grow old."
Dad, laughing, left to the kitchen to tell mom what I'd done, but I stayed and politely looked away as Edward dug out the envelope (that had travelled to his thigh) even if I did notice his snug maroon boxer briefs and his happy trail leading to the attractive bulge at the front. Stifling my smile, I felt hair in the back of my neck rise at the sight.
Get a grip, you idiot. Going out with another guy in literally half an hour.
"Bella," Edward said, amusement and annoyance merging in his eyes as he, once again, held out the envelope in front of me. "You are in no place to afford—"
I took the envelope from him and put it down his pants again.
"I can do this all night," I said, winking before I hesitated. "Well, actually, I can't, which is the whole point. But thanks for tutoring me. It was fun, which is a small miracle. Math and Biology on Wednesday evening?"
"Sure thing," Edward said, softly, with almost sadness in his eyes that made me feel like pressing myself against him. I hugged him, shot him a smile, and disappeared in my room to get ready for my date. I hadn't expected to have so much fun with Edward or to share so much of our past with him (although I should've known better because he was phenomenally easy to get along with). I was proud of myself for not getting too distracted by my fiercely attractive tutor, and I couldn't help but feel like… I was going from one date to another, only this time, the guy probably wanted to kiss me instead of the other way around.
I did my hair and make-up in a rush. I wore mom's light green tweed mini dress with a houndstooth pattern, black tights, knee-length boots and a slightly-too-blueish scarf that did not tie the outfit together but had a picture of a lion on it. I liked it. If Peter and I ran out of topics, all I had to do was open up my fake silk scarf and put it on my face.
Aflutter with anticipation, I twirled dramatically when I entered the living room in the golden hour. Mom was curled up on the couch with a glass of wine and whistled when she saw me.
But I had not expected Edward to be crouching by a drawer with dad, searching for tools. Edward's mouth fell open as his eyes ran over my body, almost hungrily, and I felt alight and beautiful in his gaze. I loved how his Adam's apple moved when he swallowed, and his eyes, torn or guarded, briefly locked with mine before he clenched his jaw and turned his attention back on the tools laid out on the floor.
I was about to ask what he was still doing here when dad looked up.
"Absolutely not," dad said, lifting a metal box of tools in front of Edward.
Mom laughed.
"You think you can stop our daughter from going out like this?"
"Definitely."
"Aw, honey," mom said, with the voice of a southern woman who had no intention of allowing me to follow dad's orders. "Aren't you the cutest. But the moment you forbid that dress is when she will hide it in her bag and put it on in the car."
Dad narrowed his eyes at mom. "Speaking from experience, are we?"
Mom did not even hesitate. "Absolutely." Mom put down her wine glass. "Very cute, sweetie. Do you have your phone?"
"Check."
"Pepper spray?"
"Check."
"Condoms?"
"One pack from you and one from dad," I replied, grinning. "If Edward gives me a third one I'll have enough to start up my own shop."
Edward gaped at us, mouth slightly open, looking pale and mildly ill.
"That's the spirit." Mom chuckled. "Remember you can get a nasty UTI having sex outside in this cold."
"Only in the warmest backseat of the car," I replied. "Gotcha."
Mom got up to hug me, gushing about my first date, and dad, even if he was a bit grumpy, joined our group hug. The two left to look for something in the kitchen. Now alone with me in the living room, Edward stood up. His jaw was set, his eyes lingered on my lips, and I felt a kind of guarded energy in his gaze.
"How're you still here?"
"Bike won't start," he explained. "Have to check the ignition and charging systems. You dad's just helping me find a few tools."
"That sucks. Anything I can do?"
Towering over me, Edward shook his head. His eyes followed the contours of my curly hairdo and my bright red lips, and he seemed restrained, almost sad. Did my date remind him of all the lovey-dovey stuff he didn't get to do now that he didn't have a girlfriend anymore?
He stepped closer and pulled his bottom lip in his mouth as he searched my eyes. "He tries anything at all you're not okay with, he so much as breathes on you wrong, you call me, text me, anything. Okay? I'll come get you."
"With what?" I had to ask even if his words squeezed my heart.
"Jasper's bike, obviously. We'll get you out of there if needed. Just say the word."
I couldn't tell Edward that Emmett, too, was going to be just next door from us. He promised not to interfere, but he'd be close.
"That's sweet. Peter's a good guy but thank you. I appreciate it."
The doorbell rang. I sent my parents and Edward an air kiss before I headed for the front door, determined to have a beautiful first date as I beamed from ear to ear.
…
