bxeckersz

You were supposed to be Paige’s tutor.

Key words: supposed to be.

Paige, however, had no interest in being tutored or learning any of her English 201 skills. Instead, she preferred to use her time with you, flirting or grilling you about your personal life.

Ergo, you were supposed to be her tutor, but you were positive that in the last three weeks, she had learned nothing about rhetorical writing, which leads you to your current predicament.

It was a Monday afternoon at UConn, mid october, leaving everyone right on the cusp of fall. The air was crispier with a slight chill, and the leaves fell from the trees, decorating the pathways in orange hues.

You’d love to be enjoying said orange hues, but instead youre trapped inside a study room in the library, sitting across the table from Paige.

“Paige,” You said flatly, staring at her across the table.

She grinned. That cocky Paige Bueckers grin where her eyes gleam, and her teeth snag her bottom lip, trying to contain it. Leaned back in her chair, making two of the legs hover cautiously in the air. Her long legs were spread open in a confident slouch, her sweatpants sat low on her waist, revealing glimpses of the Nike Pro Band sitting underneath.

“Tutor,” She replied, mocking your tone in a condescending way that still came off attractive, frustratingly so.

“Did you even bring your English textbook?” You sigh deeply, your head tilting as you stare at her.

Her amused grin widens, and she shrugs both her shoulders underneath her tight dry-fit UConn long sleeve, “Huh.” She hums as if she just remembered textbooks exist, “I forgot. Guess we cant study,” She lets the legs of her chair fall forward abruptly, and when they hit the ground with a thud, she lands her elbows on the table, smiling at you. The lines of her toned biceps stretched under the tight long-sleeve, the muscles flexing where she rested her arms.

You close your eyes momentarily to inhale, pushing down the brief idea of murdering the star athlete Paige Bueckers. You open them and give her an unimpressed, frustrated look, “You are not taking this seriously”

“Oh, believe me, I am”

“You didn't even bring books. That’s not serious”

“I didn't say studying was the thing im taking seriously.” Her smirk widened, if possible, into a Cheshire cat grin. The look of someone far too profoundly proud of every word she speaks.

You groan helplessly, “Paige, you have an exam in three days”.

Paige shrugs, unbothered by the statement, her eyes roaming over your face, “So do you have a girlfriend?”

You blink, your body physically glitching at the abrupt change in topic. “Wha- Paige!” Your tone is incredulous and slightly flustered.

Paige doesn't flinch, leaning forward with her elbows on the table, her brows furrowing, “A boyfriend then? Don't tell me you date men, mama, ain't no way they can handle allat” Paige's tone dripped with flirtation and a slight genuine edge as if the idea of you with a man disturbed her.

You blink, sputtering because what is wrong with her? And also youre positive there is a flush creeping up your neck, and you have nothing to blame it on. “We are supposed to be studying the-”

Paige cut you off with a careless flick of her wrist and an eye roll that had far too much sass for such an intimidating woman, “You’re studying, im prying into your personal life”.

You stared at her blankly.

She stared at you, grinning.

Finally, after the standoff between you and the most stubborn girl you ever met ended with your inevitable loss, you huffed. “No, I don't have a girlfriend.”

Paige’s eyes literally gleamed with satisfaction, and her stupid little smug grin returned, “Ah, so you do play for my team.” She licked her lips, her teeth biting into her own bottom lip softly as she stared at you with those damn aqua blue eyes.

“This is inappropriate,” You sniffed, lifting your chin.

“Ion see how”

“Im your tutor”

“Youre a student”

“That's irrelevant”

“It's the entire relevance”

The standoff began again. You stared at her, your brows pinching slightly in that stubborn, irritated way that Paige just found cute. Paige stared at you with that look that said she was completely content doing this for the rest of the day.

You groaned again, always the first one to lose a staring stand off with her, “Youre insufferable”

Paige chuckled, a soft melodic sound, her smile turning wide and gummy, “Im charming”

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched upward slightly, fighting an amused smile you refused to let free. You opened your binder and pulled out a piece of paper, handing it to her, attempting to appear stern, “Write two paragraphs on rhetorical writing.”

Paige picked up her pencil and smiled proudly, “Aight, watch”.

The next ten minutes passed in silence, as Paige wrote on her paper, her plush lip caught between her teeth in focus. You worked on your computer, occasionally looking over to make sure she was still working, which usually resulted in you getting distracted by simply staring at her.

Finally, she lifted her head, her eyes were gleaming with something knowing as she lifted her paper and slid it across the table to you, “Aight mama, read it and weep”.

You picked up the paper and began reading it in your head, only to pause three lines in, your brows scrunching together immediately, “Wha- this isn't a rhetorical analysis. Paige! These are the words to a fantasia song.” You looked back up at her incredulously.

She smirked proudly and lifted one hand, “Yeah, but which Fantasia song?” she challenged raising her eyebrows.

“That's not-”

“Ten, nine, eight-” she cut you off counting down. Your eyes widened, glancing down at the paper, then back up at her.

“Im supposed to be quizzing you!”

Paige's smirk widened, and she shook her head softly, “Five, four, three”

You gaped and looked back down at the paper, scanning it quickly, then gasped, looking up, “Oh oh! Without you!”

You blurted the answer proudly, and Paige's smirk broke out into a wide smile, “Atta girl, mama.”

You smiled, shaking your head ruefully, and put the paper back down. “Stop pulling me into your games.” You tried to chastise her, but it came out weakly.

Paige just smiled, but this one was softer, realer; her eyes were warm as she dropped her chin into her hand, leaning casually on the table, “Nah, you love my games.”