Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 65683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
I cocked my head to the side. “How many do you have?”
“Like, maybe twelve.”
I nearly fell out of my chair. “Tru, that’s way too many. You have your own workload on top of that. How many credits are you taking?”
“Don’t pretend you care about me or my workload.” She cleared her throat and looked away. “Now, open to chapter one. We’re going to go over the basics of the—”
“Tru.” I waved a hand in front of her face. “You don’t need that many students.”
She shoved my hand away and started reading the first chapter. “Okay, so with chem, you have to understand that…”
And that was literally how my next hour went. She ignored anything personal and talked about organic chem like I was a fucking idiot. Which apparently, I was. No professor explained it the way she did, and I was thrilled I was getting it right. I solved almost every problem after she explained it in words I could understand.
“Alright.” She stood and then stumbled backward. I grabbed her before she could fall.
“When did you eat last?” I asked.
“I hate you.”
“Same.” I smiled. “But when did you last eat?”
She shook her head. “I had a lot of students and classes today, okay?”
“You still haven’t answered my question.”
“I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve eaten today.”
It was seven at night.
I bit back my curse. “Okay, so now, as a thank-you, let me feed you.”
“I don’t need you.”
“Tru…”
“I’m serious. I can feed myself.”
“Yet you haven’t eaten today. You need to eat. You look like you’re going to pass out.” She was already too thin.
“I’m not your problem.”
“Cinderella, just let me fucking feed you.”
“No.”
“You’re so damn stubborn.”
“Says the man who won’t take no for an answer.”
She swayed in my arms. “That’s it.” Before she could say another word, I leaned forward and threw her tiny ass over my shoulder.
“Vaughan!”
“You can yell at me later.” Trust me, I enjoyed it more than I should.
“If you don’t put me down right now, I’ll—”
“Hey, Tru, you ready?” a random guy asked her.
“Yes. As soon as this asshole puts me—”
“You’re her next student?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“It’s not happening tonight.”
“Oh my God! He already paid me!”
Grabbing my wallet, I threw a couple of bills on the table. “She won’t be tutoring you now or ever. Find someone new.”
Her gasp was so loud it was hilarious.
I smacked her ass. “Let’s go.” Instantly, I spoke with conviction, “She’s mine, motherfucker. Make sure you tell anyone else she’s tutoring that she’s now closed for business.”
I meant every last word.
CHAPTER 11
VAUGHAN
My parents weren’t bad people, but they were overachievers. They always needed the best of the best and wouldn’t settle for anything less, especially when it came to their only son. My parents had to have nice things. They lived in a big house in a high-end, gated community when it was only the two of them.
They were VIP members at the country club.
They bought new cars every year.
We went on expensive vacations.
The whole nine yards.
To me, they were just keeping up with the Joneses. Everything had to be about them and the latest gossip. It really was like living in a movie with nothing but rich people who smiled all the time in the creepiest way possible and tried to outdo every friend they had in their social circle.
They didn’t own our things; our things owned them.
At the end of the day, I knew they wanted what was best for me. Not thinking that maybe I already knew what that was. They were suffocating me, and they didn’t even realize it.
In their eyes, everything was the way it was supposed to be. It was normal for them to act like they did, and I was the outlier for looking at them like they were crazy half the time. I played by their rules because I had no fucking choice but to be a part of their world. I understood I was crying rich-boy tears, but at the same time, pain was pain, and there was so much of it that I was smothered.
All my life, I felt like my parents tried to mold me into something I wasn’t. Something they wanted me to be. I never felt accepted or good enough, and that killed me the most. That ate away at me, piece by piece. Day after day.
At the end of the day…
I needed to make myself happy. Life was too short, you only lived once, and all that other Hallmark bullshit.
I wanted to make the best of it.
For the first time in my life, I was almost done with college, and I just hoped they loved me enough to let me come into my own. Whether that be part of their trust fund agreement or not. If I wanted them to accept me for who I was or who I wanted to be, I guess I should start by giving them a chance.