Free Tell Me When by Stina Lindenblatt

make more money.
    “She knows you’re not studying pre-law, right?” Jordan asks.
    I nod.
    She looks thoughtful for a moment, but I get the idea it doesn’t change anything. She still plans to keep the secret from her parents for as long as possible.
    “Anyway,” she says, “we’re not discussing my math grade. We’re discussing yours. You could get a tutor.”
    Inwardly I roll my eyes at her attempt to change the topic. But I can’t complain since I’m just as bad. “Except I don’t know any.”
    “What about him?” She jerks her chin at the dark-haired guy who just entered the gym. The same dark-haired guy who offered to tutor me in math. Who’s she kidding? I doubt he even knows what pre-calculus is. Sex seems to be his subject of choice.
    “Wouldn’t it be better if the tutor actually knows something about math?” I ask.
    “I’m guessing he knows a thing or two, considering he’s an engineering student.”
    I let out a choked laugh. “Where did you hear that?”
    “From the guy I was dancing with last night. He and Marcus are in a class together.”
    “You talking about Marcus Reid?” a girl on the treadmill next to me says, loud enough to be heard by half the people in the gym. Including Marcus.
    I shoot her a look at the same time Jordan says “Yes.” Just what I don’t need—Marcus thinking I’m interested in him. Which I’m not.
    “Do you know him?” Jordan asks, her voice competing with the loud hum of the treadmill and the pounding of our feet, while keeping quiet enough so Marcus can’t hear her.
    “I’d say.” The girl’s expression hardens. “He’s amazing in bed, but don’t expect more than that. The guy’s got a reputation a mile long. He’s not looking to settle down.”
    “Then he’s perfect,” Jordan exclaims.
    I stare at her, mouth open. “Perfect for what?”
    “Tutoring you. A hot tutor who’s great in bed—what more could you want?”
    “You’re not serious, are you?”
    Jordan laughs at my no-doubt shocked expression. “Of course not. You need a tutor who can help you with math, not one who’s so hot he’ll distract you from learning anything.”
    Oh, good. She hasn’t gone completely insane.
    “What about Brittany?”
    I take it back. She is insane. “You’ve gotta be kidding me, right?”
    “She’s pre-med and I’ve seen her calculus text in your room.”
    “You’re forgetting she hates me.”
    “No, she—okay, maybe she does a little.”
    “She tried to be transferred to a new room because of my nightmares. I’m pretty sure she hates me more than just a little.” I press the speed button and up my pace. “Any other suggestions?”
    “Sleep with your teacher.”
    She laughs at my expression. The same one I had when she told me a tutor who’s hot in bed is a great idea. I’m tempted to lean over and increase her speed just so she can’t keep talking.
    “I’m kidding,” she says, laughing again. “But you have to admit, being tutored by Marcus is better than sleeping with your instructor.” Especially since the guy is like fifty. I shudder at the thought.
    “Maybe I could study harder,” I suggest.
    “You’re already studying harder. How’s that going for you?”
    I pretend I didn’t hear her. “There must be someone else who can tutor me. What about the Chinese girl on our floor? What’s her name?”
    “Ann. And she’s poli-sci. So that would be a big no.”
    “There has to be someone who can....” Only the weak ask for help , Amber. Wasn’t that what Mom always said? The strong help the weak , not the other way around .
    “There isn’t anyone. Not unless your instructor can suggest someone.”
    Marcus selects a barbell and performs a combination of squat and overhead press. His shoulder muscles ripple under his gray T-shirt when he pushes the weight upward. The hem rises, revealing his taut stomach.
    “I’ll ask him.”
    She nods at Marcus. “Go now before he leaves.”
    I snort. “I meant my instructor.