Chapter 41 – Wesley
“Wesley Reynolds?”
“Yes?”
I’m sitting on the patio of the campus cafeteria a few days later, waiting to meet my new algebra teacher that Coach Thompson lined up for me. I was sure it’d be some nerdy dude with horn-rimmed glasses and a stutter.
But this tutor has a female voice. And when I turn around to face the voice who called my name, I’m greeted with something altogether different than the tutor I’d imagined.
She’s model-pretty: tall, slim, and with a smoking hot body. But she’s dressed a little inappropriately for a tutoring session, in a low cut tank top that reveals her stunning cleavage, and tight fitting short shorts that show off her ass.
I can’t help but think it’s nothing compared to Chelsea’s ass. She has a naturally curvy ass, with an hourglass body to boot.
While this girl is definitely very attractive, and I wouldn’t have hesitated to hit on her pre-Chelsea, it’s like Chelsea messed up my brain. Now I can’t even look at another girl without comparing her to Chelsea.
“Yes?” I ask again, incredulous that this could really be the tutor assigned to me. Perhaps she’s here for some other reason.
“I’m your algebra tutor,” she says to me, putting her hands on the table and leaning over, giving me a further glimpse of her ample cleavage. “I heard you were in need of some motivation in the… math department.”
“Uhhh, yeah, I guess,” I tell her, knowing that I sound like a damn idiot.
I’m sure she’s used to guys falling all over themselves for her, but my amazement comes at the fact that she’s been assigned as my tutor. Right when I’m still crushing on a girl who doesn’t even fucking want me.
Life can be so unfair.
“No one told me you looked like this,” she says bluntly, staring me up and down.
My thoughts exactly.
Normally I’d be jumping all over the fact that she looks ready to jump all over me. But I need to stay on the straight and narrow, for the sake of my football contract.
Besides, I just don’t feel like pursuing anything with her. She’s definitely not giving me any kind of a chase.
And she’s definitely not Chelsea.
When I’m honest with myself, I know that the old me would have taken the risk and returned her flirtations at the very least. But the new me only wants to risk going out of bounds with one person, and that person doesn’t tutor math. Unfortunately.
“Well, let’s get down to work,” my new tutor says, and sits down on the same side of the picnic table bench that I’m on.
I look around. Everyone is staring at us.
The last thing I need is for this to get back to Chelsea. If I have any chance left with her, this obvious scene would totally blow it.
“Shouldn’t we, like, go to the library or something?” I ask her.
“Or maybe my house?” She looks at me through thick, long lashes she’s batting at me.
She even puts her hand on my thigh.
“I… ummm…”
“Just kidding,” she says, and lays her head on my shoulder as she opens my algebra textbook with her other hand. “I think better when I’m outside. And I need more breaths of fresh air after finding out that my new student is a total stud.”
I try to scootch over a bit, but her not-Chelsea ass quickly follows.
“Okay, I know you’re a bright guy who can catch on to these concepts,” she tells me, as she points to a problem in the book. “And I know I’m just the girl who can offer you extra motivation to do so…”
She reaches her hand close to my dick, as if she’s about to grab it, and I practically slide off the end of the fucking bench.
“Look, umm…” I realize I didn’t even ask her name. “Miss.”
It sounds so formal, but I don’t know what else the fuck to call her, and perhaps formal is good in this situation.
“You’re right, I’m a bright guy,” I tell her. “And I don’t really need a math tutor. I just need to not let my supposed friend teach me the wrong way to solve these problems.”
“You need me for your football scholarship…” she sings out, in a gloating tone.
I stop in my tracks, realizing she’s right. What will Coach Thompson do when he hears that I ditched my very first tutoring session, which is part of the plan to save my ass?
He definitely won’t think I’m taking the plan very seriously.
“What?” she asks, sensing my weakness. “Do you have a girlfriend or something?”
“Or something,” I answer her, as I walk away. “Something like that, yes.”
I’ll just have to take my chances with Coach Thompson. I hope he’ll understand, even though I have no idea what to tell him. She was too hot to be my algebra tutor? She sexually harassed me?
I’ll figure it out. I just couldn’t stand that woman’s touch.
This is not the Wesley Reynolds I used to be.
What’s happened to me?
Chelsea Thompson has ruined me.