Free Easy by Tammara Webber Page A

games people played in pursuit of love—or the next hook up. The whole thing
was a competition to see who could get how far, and I could never figure out if
there was more luck or skill involved, or some unknowable combination of the
two. People rarely said what they thought, or revealed how they felt. No one
was honest.
    Easy for me to
say, from my high horse of the perfect relationship with Kennedy. Erin had
called me on that months ago, when I told her she was being ridiculous over a
guy—plotting to decipher what he wanted from a girl before systematically breaking
down his defenses. I had to admit she was right. I had no idea what it was like
to be a young, single adult, so I wasn’t entitled to judge.
    Until now.
    This angst was
absurd, but I couldn’t shake it. He’d stared at me in class. I felt confident
when I left economics, and miserable now. Why? Because he hadn’t shoved the
redhead out of his way at the end of econ to come after me? Because he hadn’t texted
me at some point during the barely three and a half hours since I’d seen him? That
didn’t even make sense.
    By the time I was
heating soup in the microwave for dinner, I’d resigned myself to having failed
at keeping Lucas’s interest. I pushed the pretty girl who’d rushed up to him at
the end of the class from my mind, once I started imagining him leaving the
class holding her hand, or more. “Dumbass,” I muttered at myself.
    From the end of my
bed, my laptop dinged an email alert, and an answering flutter came from my
stomach. It was probably nothing—a notice about flu shots from the health
center, or another note from one of my old high school friends, who were all “so
devastated” that Kennedy and I were over (which they all figured out when he
changed his Facebook relationship status— twenty minutes after he’d
broken up with me).
    I’d disabled my
account immediately, and had yet to reinstate it. The thought of seeing his
glib status updates and having photos of him pop up in my feed was demoralizing.
Even if I hid him, we knew too many of the same people. There’d be no hiding
his activities completely. I began getting sympathetic and condescending emails
and texts the next day, so I was justifiably apprehensive whenever I checked my
inbox.
    Cringing, I pulled it up… and smiled.
     
    Jacqueline,
    Are you going to make it to the session tomorrow (Thursday)? In case you won’t,
I’ve attached the worksheet I’m planning to go over. It’s new, separate stuff,
and you needn’t be completely caught up to get it. (Speaking of, you should be
all caught up within a week or so.)
    LM
    PS – I’ve been thinking about that proof I spoke of last time – that you’re where
you’re supposed to be. And it occurred to me, can you prove you’d be better off
somewhere else? If you’d have left the state, your relationship would have ended
still. Maybe you’d have even blamed yourself, not knowing that it was doomed
because of him, either way. Instead, you’re here. You got dumped, skipped class,
and met the best econ tutor at the university! Who knows, maybe I’ll make you
fall in love with economics. (What’s your major, btw?)
     
    Landon,
    I’m a music education major. I hate
that saying: "Those who can, do , those who can’t, teach ." As a
tutor, I know that’s BS. Still. I wanted to do . I imagined joining a
symphony orchestra, or a progressive jazz band… And instead, I’m going to
teach.
    I won’t be at your session – I have lessons with my middle school boys tomorrow. (I
think I’d be more impressive to them if I could fart the scales instead of
plucking them on the bass.)
    Sorry to inform you, but I plan to make it through this class and be done with econ.
No reflection on your genius tutoring skills, I swear. Thank you for the
worksheet. You’re too kind.
    JW
     
    Jacqueline,
    If you want to do, then do. What’s stopping you?
    So I’m kind, huh? Never heard that before. People usually think I’m a