“Not on my end either.”
“Good.” He lets go of my wrist. “Glad we got that cleared up.”
He gestures for me to follow him. I assume we’re going inside the house, but he opens the garage door.
I take in the microphone and stand, keyboard, amp, and drum set as I enter.
“Are you in a band?”
I mean, if he isn’t, he definitely should be. Despite being an asshole, he has the voice of a god.
He walks over to the futon on the opposite side of the garage. “Yeah. It’s just me and Storm who’s the drummer, but we make it work. This is his house, by the way.”
That’s…surprising. “Oh. Are you sure—”
“It’s fine. He said we could chill here.”
I don’t know much about Storm. Other than he’s pretty scary looking, and Phoenix’s friend…but it was cool of him to offer up his place.
It’s even cooler that they’re in a band together.
I’m about to suggest they hold auditions to find a guitarist, but then Phoenix sits on the futon. “Let’s get this shit over with.”
Opening my bag, I take out the same essay from yesterday so he can read it and answer a list of questions about it after.
Our English teacher isn’t a heartless bitch who’s looking to fail him. She just wants to make sure he’s able to do the bare minimum in order to graduate.
Once he answers this set of questions, and a different set from another essay—in addition to writing a short essay of his own—his extracurricular project will be done.
Then we can focus on studying for the final.
“I’ll give you a few minutes to read this.”
He snatches it out of my hand.
His brows knit and I watch the way his lips move as he reads.
“Can you stop staring at me?” he snaps a minute later.
Geez.
Getting off the futon, I make a beeline for the instruments.
They aren’t expensive. In fact, everything looks second—maybe even thirdhand—but they do keep them in good condition.
I’m so absorbed in imagining what it would be like to watch him perform, I don’t realize how much time has passed until I glance at my phone. It’s almost ten-thirty.
I walk back over to him. “Sorry. I kind of zoned out.”
Phoenix doesn’t look up. “I need more time.”
While I admire him wanting to do everything on his own, the reason I’m here is to tutor him and make sure he’s on the right path.
“It’s okay. I’ll look over your answers and give you feedback. This way, I can see what you’re struggling with and come up with a game plan to get you back on track.”
His jaw tics. “I haven’t finished reading this shit yet.”
I don’t know whether to laugh because he’s pulling my leg…or be concerned because he’s been reading for over an hour now.
It’s a five-page essay. Not a book.
“Um—”
“I need more time,” he grits through his teeth.
Holding my hands up, I back away. “No problem.”
I wander back over to the instruments, only now I’m solely focused on watching him as he reads.
I have no doubt he’s concentrating, it’s obvious by the way his face scrunches as he looks over the paper.
However, I also notice that he never moves on from the first page.
An awful feeling comes over me, but I shake it out of my head because that would be ridiculous.
Of course, Phoenix can read. He’s a freaking senior. Surely someone would have caught on to him being illiterate by now.
And yet…he’s still scanning the very same page. Looking like he’s trying his absolute hardest to make sense of it.
I glance at my phone. It’s after eleven now.
Nerves bunch in my stomach as I approach him again.
I’d never in a million years make fun of someone with a learning disability. However, I need to know what I’m dealing with so I can help him.
If I even can still help him at this point.
Sitting beside him on the futon, I gently touch his knee. “Phoenix?”
His deep voice is laced with hostility. “What?”
I hold his gaze. “I need you to understand that I will never, ever judge you.” I pry the essay from him. “But you’ve been reading for a very long time now.”
I expect him to give me an explanation, but that’s not what happens.
“Fine. Let’s do the questions.”
Looking down at the paper, I read the first one. “What exploration was the sixteenth century great for?”