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Authors: Mary Smith

A Hockey Tutor

BOOK: A Hockey Tutor
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The Hockey Tutor

By Mary Smith

The Hockey Tutor

Copyright 2014 by Mary Smith

 

This publication is protected under the US Copyright Act of 1976 and all other applicable international, federal, state and local laws, and all rights are reserved, including resale rights: you are not allowed to give or sell this book to anyone else.

 

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it, and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

 

All rights reserved. Except for the use of short passages for review purposes, no part of this book may be reproduced, in part or in whole, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronically or mechanically, including photocopying, recording, or any information retrieval system, without prior permission in the form of writing by the authors.

 

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any actual places, products, or events mentioned are used in a purely fictitious manner.

 

Cover Designed by:
Bailey Ardisone

Table of Contents

 

 

Chapter 1 – Katie

Chapter 2 – Andrew

Chapter 3 – Katie

Chapter 4 – Andrew

Chapter 5 – Katie

Chapter 6 – Andrew

Chapter 7 – Katie

Chapter 8 – Andrew

Chapter 9 – Katie

Chapter 10 – Andrew

Chapter 11 – Katie

Chapter 12 – Andrew

Chapter 13 – Katie

Chapter 14 – Andrew

Chapter 15 – Katie

Chapter 16 – Andrew

Chapter 17 – Katie

Chapter 18 – Andrew

Chapter 19 – Katie

Chapter 20 – Andrew

Chapter 21 – Katie

Chapter 22 – Andrew

Chapter 23 – Katie

Chapter 24 – Andrew

 

Chapter 1 – Katie

 

Click. Click. Click.

I looked through the trees and snapped the picture. I smiled thinking about the beautiful fall trees. The bright oranges, reds, and yellows gleamed in the light, made me feel content, as did the camera that hung around my neck. I walked down the trail, listening to the leaves crunch under my feet, until I reached the edge of the pond. I took a seat on the bench, and stared out at the still waters.

The crisp autumn air filled my lungs as I took a deep breath. I loved being outdoors, especially this time of year. The changing of the season brought back so many memories for me: being a child, raking leaves with my dad and my brother, and then jumping in the pile; my mother calling us in to have hot chocolate. I shook my head at the childhood memories, fiddlinh with my necklace, thinking of how my life has changed.

I wasn’t sure exactly how long I had been sitting there, until I looked down at my watch and realized I needed to get back to campus. I put my camera and lens back in the case, and raced down the trail. I needed to get back to my apartment. I had one of my favorite classes tonight, and I had to work at the diner.

“Hey, I thought you would be studying on campus.” My best friend, and roommate, Lindsay was sitting on the couch with papers spread out all around her.

I fell into a nearby chair, and propped my feet up on the coffee table. “I was out taking some nature shots. What are you doing?”

“Trying to get a head start on a project.” She stopped writing and looked over at me. “What are you doing tonight?”

I took a deep breath and lay back in the chair. “I have class tonight, and then I have a short shift at the diner. Anything going on later tonight?”

“I know a few parties that are going on, but I haven’t officially committed to any. Oh, by the way,” she reached down and picked up a couple opened envelopes from the table. “It’s that time of month again.” She tossed them over to me, and I knew instantly that it was time to pay the bills. Even though I loved living with Lindsay, I dreaded this time of month.

I met Lindsay my first semester in college. She and I were paired together for a project in my very first class, and we became instant friends. We had a lot in common. We liked to have fun, liked going to parties and hitting on the occasional guy, and we were both raised in small towns, with strict parents.

I was raised in Malden, Illinois, a small farming town, with fewer than five hundred people. Everyone knew everyone, and everyone else’s business, and I didn’t like that. It was the main reason I wanted to go away to college. I really wanted to go to New York City, but my father flat out refused. When I got a scholarship to North Maple University, it took some convincing, and some yelling from me, but my father finally agreed. There was just one condition: if my grades dropped, I had to come home. I agreed to his term, and so far had been able to live up to it.

At the end of our first school year, Lindsay went back home to North Carolina to work in her dad’s law firm for the summer. I, on the other hand, returned home and worked on the farm. We remained in contact and decided to get an apartment together once the new school year started. My dad was skeptical I would be able to keep up my grades while living in an apartment, but my mom convinced him to let me give it a try.

We found a decent apartment, and moved in, right before school started. Dad helped me with the deposits, but said that I had to cover my bills from that point on. To cover expenses, I got a job at a local diner. Just a few days a week, so that it didn’t interfere with my studies and I still had time to hang out with Lindsay and maybe go to a party or two.

“Okay, I’ll get you money before they’re due.” I threw the bills back onto the table, hoping I made enough money this weekend to cover them.

Lindsay continued to shuffle through work. “Who knew becoming a doctor would lead to a mountain of useless projects in an English class?”

I watched Lindsay push her hand in frustration through her long dark brown hair. I knew that she would be the world’s best doctor. Lindsay was on track to be at the top of the class, and even though her family wanted her to be an attorney, she followed her dream instead.

I laughed at her as I got up from the comfortable chair to get ready for class. “If you’re going out tonight, wait for me to get off work, okay?”

She nodded, as I walked past her to my room to go and get ready for work. I slipped into my green t-shirt with the words ‘The Diner’, scrolled across the front. I wiggled into a pair of black skinny jeans, and tied my black converse on.

“You’re going to be late,” Lindsay sang out as I put on the finishing touches of my makeup.

“I’m aware of the time. Thank you Ms. Obvious.” I yelled back to her. I checked myself one more time and grabbed my purse.

“Okay. See you after work,” she said as I raced past her.

“Yep, see you around nine,” I yelled, slamming the apartment door.

The apartment was two blocks east of campus. Even though my class was on the west side, I decided to hoof it. I had a car, but it was a piece of junk, and I didn’t have a lot of money for gas.

I made it to class right before Professor Williams started his lecture. This class, Digital Photography, was my favorite. I had always loved taking pictures, and wanted to major in photography, but my dad thought it was a soft career option, that I would never find a decent paying job taking pictures. I was grateful to my mom for helping me convince him to let me get a Digital Photography Certificate if I majored in business.

I took out my notebook, book, and got ready to take notes. Professor Williams began to talk about the colors, the lighting, and the significance of the slide on the projector. The picture was of a small child, playing in the mud. I couldn’t help the smile on my face. It reminded me of when I was younger. I was always outside, running through my mom’s flower garden, or my brother and I would be climbing up the large oak tree in the front yard. I had a great childhood, until I was a teenager, and then it all changed.

I turned my focus back to the class, trying not to think of the heartache. I took diligent notes, and hung on Professor Williams’ every word. That man knew what he was talking about when it came to photography. With each slide he told us the elements of the pictures. You could hear the passion in his voice as he talked about images on the projector.

At the end of class, Professor Williams gave us the next week’s assignment and then asked me to stay after class.

Had I done something wrong?

Was I in trouble?

I walked up to the podium, where he was gathering his papers.

“Ms. Miller, I haven’t really talked to you since the semester started. How was your summer?”

“It was good,” I said at him.

Professor Williams was a kind man. He had been my academic advisor since I first enrolled in classes and had always been very encouraging. I remembered his reaction when I told him my dad was going to let me get my photography certificate. He beamed at me and said, “Well, of course. Because you are a very persistent young lady.”

“I have a question for you. How would you like to make some extra money this semester?”

“Extra money is always a good thing. I’m working at the diner on the north side of campus right now.”

“An opportunity might be open for you to make some good money tutoring a student. If you’re interested, meet me at the dean’s office tomorrow morning at eight.” He stuffed everything into his briefcase and walked out.

I stood there for a moment. Tutoring? I’m not sure if I’m a good person to be someone’s tutor. I mean, I do well in my classes, but I don’t have any tutoring experience. Would I have time to tutor
and
work at the diner? A tutoring job
would
make my resume look a little better. I’d have to think about it later, because I had to get to the other side of campus, for work.

I was so thankful for work right now. My brain wasn’t in the mood to think about Professor Williams right now, or his vague invitation. I walked in to the diner, inhaling the smell of greasy burgers and fries. I threw on my apron, locked my bag, clocked in, and started working.

Four hours later, at nine o’clock, I clocked out, grateful to leave the smell of the diner behind me.

The brightness of the moon lit my way to the apartment, casting shadows on the sidewalk from the trees. Even though it was Thursday, there were a lot of students out, heading to parties.

I walked into the apartment and hollered to see if Lindsay was there.

“In the bathroom. Come here.”

I walked over to our shared bathroom and leaned on the doorframe. Lindsay was in a pair of tight skinny jeans, with a low-cut top. She had her brown hair in loose curls and was finishing up her makeup. She looked ready to party.

“Okay, so the hockey team is having a huge party before tomorrow night’s exhibition game. You want to go?” Lindsay looked at me brightly.

“Sure. Give me a few minutes to get ready,” The North Maple University hockey team was one of the best in the league. I knew that because it was on every banner and bulletin board on every corner of the campus. Plus, I had seen a couple of the players around campus, and they were
cute
.

“Hey, you won’t believe this; Professor Williams wants me to meet him tomorrow morning at the dean’s office to talk about some tutoring job,” I told her going back to the bathroom.

“Yeah. He asked if I wanted to make extra money, and if I did, to be there.”

“Are you going to do it?” she inquired.

I sighed. “Considering that I only made fifty bucks tonight, I need to.”

After a hot shower, I put my outfit together. I straightened my dress in the mirror. It was gray on top, but at my waist it faded into a deep purple. I slipped on my matching purple heels, and a layer of makeup. Now, I was prepared to go party.

Lindsay whistled at me. “You look hot. Maybe some hockey guy will sweep you off your feet.”

“The night is young, my friend, and a girl can hope,” I teased, reaching for my purse and keys.

“Yeah. Then you can tell Mister Summer Guy goodbye once and for all.”

“Hey,” I gave her a stern look. “Brandon is a nice guy. I’ve known him my whole life.”

“Katie, you dated him in high school. Now all he is, is a booty call when you go home.”

“Are you ready to go?” I asked, ignoring her. I guess she was right. Brandon was my high school boyfriend, and when I went home this summer, we did hook up a few times. It was nice, and familiar.

“Yeah, let’s go.” She hurried past me, and out the door.

There was no need for us to take a car. The party was about four blocks from our apartment, and we just followed the crowd of students heading that way. We were about a block away when I heard the bass of the music.

When we walked into the house, we were flooded with the smell of stale beer, sweat, and perfume.

“Let’s grab a drink,” Lindsay shouted at me, pointing to the makeshift bar in the corner of the living room. The music was so loud, I thought it was going to knock my heart out of rhythm.

Lindsay grabbed a beer for me and whipped up a drink for herself. I quickly chugged the beer, and grabbed another. I wasn’t a heavy drinker, but I liked to at least get a buzz on before I started to mingle and dance. It makes it more fun.

Lindsay looked around for a second and I didn’t know what she was doing, but the she pointed towards the make shift dance floor. Thanks to the alcohol I joined her on the floor, shaking my hips to the beat of the music. We stayed out for a couple of songs before Lindsay checked her phone.

People were packed like sardines in this room, too. I watched as Lindsay strutted over to a couple of guys. They were leaning against the counter, talking, as she pushed her way in between them. Even with her wedge shoes, they were still a head taller than her.

The shorter of the two guys smiled, and wrapped his arms around Lindsay. “You’re late,”

“I had to wait for Katie.” She reached for me, yanking me closer and making me slam into the other guy. I saw a flash of red fabric and felt rippling pectoral muscles beneath a tight cotton shirt. “Sorry,” I said loudly over the music.

“Katie, this is Franks. Franks, this is my best friend in the whole, wide world, Katie.”

“Hi, Franks.” I waved to him, unsure who he was.

“Nice to meet you, Katie. Lindsay has told me a lot about you.”

I had the urge to say, “She hasn’t said a thing about you," but I kept my mouth shut.

“I’ll catch ya later, Franks,” his friend said from behind me.

Now I was standing behind Lindsay like an unnecessary second wheel on a unicycle. Immersed in a story Franks was telling, laughing and flirting, she didn’t notice. How had she even met this guy? Who was I kidding? This was Lindsay. By no means did she sleep around, but she always had a guy or two she was talking to. My beer bottle was empty, so I headed over to the alcohol-laden table that in the kitchen.

I looked over my shoulder at Franks to see him better. He was wearing a green North Maple Bears hockey team shirt that paired well with his brown hair and brown eyes. He wasn’t bad looking, but not my type. It made me think about Brandon.

BOOK: A Hockey Tutor
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