One year later
Bliss
For a long time, I believed that couples who had big, beautiful, extravagant weddings would never last. That they spent all that money to make up for the love that they lacked. I thought I had it figured out, but then again my parents filed for divorce when I was young, and I knew it didn’t matter how much you spent on the wedding, not everyone makes it. My parents were married at the courthouse a year before I was born, and right before my dad made partner at his firm. For years, I thought they were madly in love. Mom is a modern-day hippie with her eccentric ways and her need to feel free. Dad is the complete opposite, he likes things a certain way. He collected a certain kind of control and my mom couldn’t stand it. I didn’t see it but, according to my parents, this had been coming for years. They claim they still love each other but are better apart. I lived with my mom in Palm Springs and visited dad in Los Angeles in the summer, but now, for the last two years, I live full time in L.A. near my dad while I start my third year at college.
A rambling voice brings me back to reality and I look at, Dex, my now ex-boyfriend. I mean, I really look at him as he explains why I found him with his pants around his ankles and a girl on her pretty little knees ten minutes ago in his living room. Why am I even listening to him explain? No idea. Maybe because I’m now seeing that we would have been a big wedding kind of couple. Definitely. I should have known better. My dad told me stay away from college boys, he really warned me about athletes. Dex is cute, with the whole American boy thing going on, all blue eyes and blonde hair. Baseball player, scratch that, he’s just a player in general, and a waste of my time.
I pick a piece of invisible lint off my cream tank top. “So, are we done here? Because I have a tutoring session in like thirty minutes.”
His eyes widen in surprise. “So, we’re good? I messed up, babe but just give me a chance.”
Yeah, I heard that before in all the movies where the guy cheats.
“Yeah, no. It’s still over. I just have to go. So, you can stop explaining now. Your button fell off and you didn’t have a belt, so your pants fell along with your boxers. You just happened to be hard and she was only helping you look for the button. Right? Am I missing anything?” I innocently tilt my head to the side, batting my eyelashes.
His eyebrows draw in confused. “I have a 4.0, Dex. Don’t insult my intelligence. It sounds stupid when you hear it back doesn’t it?” I take a deep breath. “Well, I must be on my way. Best of luck on finding that button!” Turning on my heels, I walk out his front door and into the L.A. heat.
Summertime is gorgeous in southern California, and I would die without the breeze. After visiting New York one summer, I will never take my hometown for granted ever again. Humidity does nothing for my hair.
I hurry down the staircase, before Dex has a chance to catch me, I’ll shoot myself in the head if he tries to explain any more than he has already. Does he really think I’m some airhead because my hair is blonde? I’m not even a real blonde, you can tell by my dark roots. Although, I have told him this fact a million times.
Glancing at the time on my phone, I see I barely have time to grab an iced coffee, before going to the library for my new tutoring session with some mystery guy. His parents are the ones who sought me out. After they realized I had no idea who their son was I was hired to be his tutor. Oh yeah, I was given three little rules also. One, never bring up basketball. Two, never bring up some guys name I don’t even remember, because I have no idea who he is. Three, tell them if he’s ever under the influence. I think I can manage the first two, but three is a little hard. They are paying me to get him caught up to graduate this year, not to be his babysitter.
Luckily, my ex lives near campus and I’m already half way there. Trekking across the grass fields, I see one of my favorite coffee vendors and, thankfully, he has no line. He sees me coming and offers a smile.
Nick is a nice guy, even after my best friend kicked him to the curb like yesterday’s news. India is one of those love’em and leave’em kind of girls, and poor Nick fell hard for her southern charm.
“Mocha double shot iced coffee coming right up.” Nick winks at me, as he scoops up some ice.
“Music to my ears, I have like five minutes to get to my tutoring session. Hopefully he’s running late.”
Nick laughs as he makes my drink. “Who’s the lucky soul this time?”
I smile, he knows everyone. “Cuba Knight, I think that’s his last name.”
Coffee splashes over his apron. “Shit, sorry.”
“You okay?” I frown as he cleans up the mess and starts remaking my drink.
“Yeah. Yeah, sorry.” He doesn’t look up.
“So, do you know this Cuba person?” I press. Nick usually tells me everything about my new clients, but he’s gone strangely silent.
Putting a top on my coffee, he looks at me, no smile. “Not much to say on that one, just be careful.”
“Careful how? Is he dangerous?” I hand him my card and he waves it off as usual.
Nick frowns as if he's thinking on how to explain it. “I wouldn't say dangerous, he's been kind of MIA for a while. Just don't ask about anything personal. Keep it strictly tutoring.”
Taking a much-needed sip of my coffee, I nod. “Yeah, I have a few rules to follow. No talk of basketball and some guy, I can't remember his name.”
“Jackson.” Nick looks away. “Don't bring him up. Look, just don't get personal with Cuba. Trust me.” He looks behind me. “You need to get moving, and I have more coffee to make.”
Turning my head, I see a line forming, oops. I turn back to Nick and tip my coffee to him. “Until next time.”
Taking his advice, I keep on my short journey to the library where I will soon meet this mysterious man. I just need to do my job tutoring him this summer and I'll probably never see him once classes start in the fall. That's usually how it goes.
Entering the front doors, the smell of books and stale coffee hit me, and I feel at home. I lived in the library growing up, always reading random things. I love history, more like, I’m obsessed with it, learning how history was shaped and molded. The little pieces that fit together from all over the world. How wars started and finished. It's all awesome in a way. Guess that's how I became a history major. My parents didn't blink an eye when I told them that I was going to be a history teacher. My dad hoped I would have changed my mind and go into nursing school, or law school, hell, even medical school but nope, I'm a year away from being a teacher.
Ms. Scott, the librarian, gives me a warm smile as I walk past her to the conference room I usually use. I find being out in the open is distracting and most of the times friends would stop by and interrupt my sessions. And that shit is annoying. So, I sign up to use a private room for fewer distractions.
The door to my room is cracked open and I take a deep breath and pray to the stars that this doesn’t go horribly wrong. Dammit Nick, I should have never told him.
Rubbing my arrow charm on my necklace, I push the door open and stop dead in my tracks. He wasn’t lying when he said be careful. This man in front of me, tapping away on his phone, is trouble in the flesh. Taking in his smooth, light mocha skin, lean built frame, I swallow. A white t-shirt clings to his broad chest and toned tattooed arms, a thin gold chain hangs from his neck. Light, distressed jeans clad his long legs that stop at some very expensive white sneakers.
“Bliss?” A smooth voice brings my eyes up. Oh god. He’s speaking. The chair scrapes back, and my eyes follow as he stands to his full height. Now I get the basketball rule. He has to be six five, at least. His strong jawbone ticks, and his hazel, almond shaped eyes squint at me.
Blinking, I fumble with the flap to my messenger bag, pulling out the paper with all his information on it. “Um, Cuba?” I look back to him. “Yeah, I’m Bliss.” I hate my hippie name. Why my dad agreed is beyond me.
He smirks and I almost swoon. “They sent some Coachella chick to tutor me?”
Swoon stop. What the hell did he just say?
I jerk my head back. “Excuse me?”
Cuba shakes his head and grabs his book bag. “Are you seriously a tutor or just some groupie? I told them I wanted someone who didn’t know me.”
Heat rises to my cheeks. “First of all, I’m not a groupie. So, thank you for insulting me. Second, I don’t know who the hell you are or why you feel entitled to speak to me that way, and third, I have never been to Coachella. So, do you want to learn about Alexander the Great or not, because I hate to waste my time.”
Swoon is completely over. Who the hell does he think he is? I search his eyes but they are clear as day. Unfortunately, he is a real asshole and not under the influence.
Placing a hand on my jean shorts covered hip, I narrow my eyes and stare him down. His eyes stare right back at me, and I raise an eyebrow.
“So, what is going to be?” I press. My other hand tightens around my coffee, and I take a deep breath to calm down and loosen my hold, because if I spill this, I’m going to be crabby.
He pulls his head back and tilts it, his eyes no longer narrowing at me. “You really don’t know who I am?”
“No,” I huff out. “And I’m really not in the mood. I just caught my boyfriend cheating and my coffee is diluting by the minute. I need this caffeine strong.” I move past him, setting my coffee and now wet paper on the table.
Pulling my messenger strap over my head, I fall onto the wood chair. I look up to see Cuba staring at me with wide eyes, his book bag drops to the floor, and he takes the seat across the table from me.
“Want me to beat his ass?” he asks casually, as he pulls out his MacBook from his bag along with his history book, note pad, and pen.
I almost smile but shake my head. “Not worth it.” I pull my things out my bag, opening my MacBook and turning it on. “So, your parents said it was up to you on how many times we meet.” I look up over the edge on my laptop.
He shrugs and rubs the back of his neck. “Um, I’m not sure. Maybe twice a week?”
I nod. “Sure, whatever is better for you. How about you go over the workbook and let me know if you have any questions.”
He nods and starts flipping through the book as I pull out my phone. Dex has been texting nonstop, and I end up blocking his calls and texts. Next, I text India, letting her know that Dex is dead to us.
I don't wait for her reply and slip my phone back in my bag. I try not to have it out during my sessions because it's rude.
Pulling up Google on my browser, I debate whether to look up Cuba. Apparently, he wanted someone who didn't know him, but why. Was he really such a big deal to think I would be some groupie? Would looking him up be an invasion of privacy? I mean, if it's public knowledge, it should be okay right? Then I think back to the rules. If I read something, then it will make me want to ask questions. Questions I'm probably not supposed to ask. Curiosity killed the cat and all.
“What's up with all the arrows?” Cuba asks, and my eyes fly to his. It's like he knew my fingers were itching to type in his name.
Confused I tilt my head, “What?”
He nods to my laptop, then me. “You have arrows everywhere. Your necklace looks as if you never take it off the way you keep rubbing it. You have them on your laptop, your bag, and there's a small tattoo behind your right ear.
How the hell? Self-consciously my hand flies to my neck and rubs the small charm at the base. Swallowing, I clear my throat.
“For someone that asked that I don’t ask any personal questions, you sure can't follow your own rules.” I arch an eyebrow.
His full lips pull into a sexy smirk. “Touché, Arrow.”
“Did you just call me Arrow?”
Another sexy smirk. “Yeah, Bliss doesn’t really seem to fit you. You’re sharp just like an arrow.”
I jerk my head back slightly. “Why? Because you called me a groupie and I’m no longer impressed by you?”
His smirk turns into a full-on smile showing off his perfect teeth. “You were impressed by me?”
“Was, past tense.” I roll my eyes. “And I was slightly impressed until you opened your mouth.”
Cuba’s smile falls, and he rubs his neck. “Yeah, sorry about that. Just been a rough year, and I haven’t been around much, so I wasn’t sure what I was coming back to. I just want to be low key right now, so if you could keep our sessions on the low I would really appreciate it.”
Squinting my eyes at him, I tap my fingers on the table. “Can I Google you? I feel better asking than going behind your back.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.” His eyes lock on mine.
“Why?”
“Because I’d rather you not judge me by what is written about me. They think they know me, they don’t. After this summer, you won’t even know me, either.”
I ignore the hit to my soul; he made it very clear that he didn’t want me to know anything about him. Fine, as if I would want to get to know him anyway. He’s an asshole. Flicking my eyes away from him, I take a long sip of my deluded coffee.
“So, what do you know about Alexander the Great?” I don’t look back up at him as I shuffle through my notes.
“He’s gay right?”
I snort. “Most Greek men were, tell me something else.”
Silence.
I look up at him. “Seriously? Did you not take world history?”
Cuba shrugs. “I think I was out sick that day.”
Huffing, I set down my notes. “Alexander the third of Macedon, greatest commander of his time.” I try to jog his memory, but he shakes his head. “But you remember he was gay, shocker.”
He shrugs again. “Well, that’s why we are here, right?”
“What are you even majoring in that you are taking this class?” I’m taking it because I’m a history major, and I have a special interest in ancient civilization.
“Does it matter?” His jaw ticks and he leans back. “I need the class, so here we are.”
We stare at each other. How is this going to work when I can’t even ask him a few simple questions? We have one month until the next semester starts, eight sessions. I’m going to have to cut this short today, I need to go home and regroup, come up with a game plan on how to approach our sessions. I can admit that Cuba is sexy, but he is an asshole. I see why they wanted someone who didn’t know him. Also, he made it clear that I would never know him.
Checking the time, I see that we have been here for barely forty-five minutes. “So how about we meet on Thursday, same time?”
“That it?” He scoots his chair back. “We barely did anything.”
Standing, I place a hand on my hip. “This was just one session, I was seeing where you were,” I lie. “How about you read pages ten to forty-seven and we can discuss on Thursday?”
He stands and shrugs on his book bag. “I guess, same time?”
I nod as I gather my things. “Sure. I’ll see you then.”
Cuba turns to leave, but stops and looks back at me. “Should we exchange numbers or something, what if I can’t make it Thursday?”
Usually I have no problem giving my number for tutoring reasons, but something is telling me that giving him my number would be disastrous. Biting my lip, I quickly pounder it. I mean, I could always give him my email, but I rarely check it. I inwardly groan. “Yeah.” I give him my number and he quickly programs it in his phone.
“Cool, so I’ll see you Thursday then.” He adjusts his backpack awkwardly. “I’m sorry about what I said earlier, I haven’t been back on campus for a while, and I’m just trying to stay low key.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Yeah, calling me a groupie is staying low key. You’re just an asshole.” My eyes widen slightly. I did not just say that out loud. But the surprised look on his face tells me I did. I just called my client an asshole.
His hazel eyes narrow slightly, and his full lips pull into a smirk. “Yeah, that was the asshole in me, hopefully you won’t hold that against me. Again, I’m sorry about that. You aren’t a Coachella groupie.”
His eyes roam my body, his teeth pulling his bottom lip in as his eyes finding mine again. “I’ll see you later, Bliss.” My name slides off his tongue as he disappears out the door.
I let out a large breath. What the hell just happened? Of course, I have tutored hot guys before, but none like Cuba. The air in the room is different with him gone, and I breathe a little lighter. Every bone in my body told me to Google everything about him, or squeeze the information out of Nick, but the look in his eyes yielded me, gave me a warning not to push too far.
Shaking my head, I pull myself together and head out of the room. Cuba is nowhere in sight, no doubt he hauled ass out of here hoping no one caught a glimpse of him, being low key and all. I wave to Ms. Scott on my way out, she raises a grey eyebrow but smiles. Does she know who Cuba is and that I’m his tutor? Probably.
Smiling back, I hurry out the doors. I must come up with a master plan. Mission Tutor Cuba is now in process.
The moment I walk into my apartment, I smell the burning of something, I think it’s cheese. Oh no.
“Dammit India, don’t burn the place down.” I set my bag on the couch and walk around to the kitchen where my best friend is hopping around holding her fingers.
Her green doe eyes water. “I have a boo boo.” She lets go of her hand to show me her red finger-tips.
Looking to the stove, I see what looks to be a burnt grilled cheese still in the pan. “So, you forgot to use a spatula again?”
I love my best friend and roommate, I really do, but sometimes I wonder how she got into college. Sure, she’s here on a cheer scholarship but sometimes I wonder how she made it this far through life without any broken bones. She’s a sweetheart though, and cute as hell with her long brown hair, caramel skin, and bright green eyes. She’s petite with killer curves, that the boys go crazy for.
She sighs. “I can’t find it.” She grabs the pan and tosses the sandwich into the trash and the pan in the sink. “How was your session, and what the hell happened with Dex?”
Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, it was my turn to sigh. “I caught Dex in a compromising position, with a very busty brunette.”
“Fuck him, you’re better off anyway. You deserve someone who can at least hit your g-spot and make you come, girl.” She waves him off. “And the session, who’s the latest victim, anyone I know?”
I play with the cap of my water bottle. “Probably, but if I tell you, you have to promise not to say anything to anyone and not tell me anything about him,” I say slowly.
Indi frowns confused. “Okay, promise.”
“It’s Cuba Knight.”
Her eyes go wide but quickly return to normal. “Shut up,” she whispers in shock. “He’s back?”
My eyes draw in confusion. “Back? When did he leave?” I pause. “You know what, don’t answer that. He is dead set on me not knowing anything about him, and I think asking about him counts.”
Indi pulls her dark hair into a messy bun. “Well, he hasn’t always been an asshole.” She shrugs and starts to clean the mess she made. “If anyone can handle ‘Post Jackson’ Cuba, it’s you.”
There’s that name again. Jackson.
Cuba said he’d rather I didn’t look him up, because he doesn’t want me to judge him off of what’s written about him. They don’t know him, and I wouldn’t either. Then there are the rules, I can’t ask. These walls he has built will make tutoring hard. I’m not trying to date the guy, just make sure he catches up. Having some friendly chatter or just some kind of familiarity would make this so much easier, maybe be able to breathe around him.
Pushing off the counter. “Thanks, I definitely love a challenge.”
Tutoring Cuba Knight is most definitely going to be a challenge.