Tutoring Mr. "Bad" boy.

Chapter 18

I stare hard at the hanger in my hand. It's the pink floral print sundress which mom got me last year, in an attempt to get me to wear anything other than black sweatshirts and sweatpants.
Of course, I disappointed her...I never wore the dress.
Can't actually blame me, the color pink has just never really stood out to me.
I contemplate whether or not to wear the dress. I mean, while the dress is beautiful and would
good on me, I fear it may be too fancy to wear around the house.
Besides, am I really willing to go this extra for a boy? Is this what I've become??
Not to mention, mom and Miranda would probably put two and two together and tease me forever.

After what seems like forever, I decide to stick to my regular sweatpants and a tank top.
I'm not about to let him influence what I wear in my own house.

No sooner had I finished dressing up than I heard a knock on my door.

Mom.
That's one persistent woman.

"I'll be right down, mom," I yell.

"It's me, Randy!"

The person I don't want to see, yet I want to see so desperately. Great! Just great!

What is this, a let's-get-Mandy-out-of-her-room party?

"Come in!" I call out after quickly fixing my hair again for the third time this morning and double checking in the mirror to see if I look okay.
I busy myself with making the bed when he walks in.

"Hi."
I pause to look at him briefly. He had less sleep than I did, yet he still looks surprisingly refreshed. And very happy too.
The big smile on his face is so contagious, it triggers me to smile back even though I really don't want to.

"Hi," I respond with a big smile.

"Here, let me help."
He immediately moves to the other end of the bed before I can even protest.

"Sleep well?" He asks, smoothing out his side of the sheets.
"I did, actually, all thanks to a very good storyteller who put me to sleep."
"He sounds like a very nice person."
I fake a gasp.
"You're just going to assume that the storyteller's a 'he'?" I go on dramatically.
"Oops. I forgot all about female empowerment and gender equality."
I burst out into laughter and he does too.

"Did you sleep well?" I ask after we calm down.
"Well, the study desk and chair are no 5-star hotel plush oversized bed, but I felt surprisingly comfortable."

Ooops!

I'm literally screaming within me right now. I got carried away last night and messed up the sleeping arrangement.
I made him sleep on my study desk!!!
My STUDY DESK!!!
I'm such a terrible host!

"And now I feel bad," I admit, arranging the pillows and teddy bears on the bed.
He moves to sit on the study desk and I perch on the edge of the bed, careful not to ruin it again.

"Hey, come on. I'm only pulling your legs."
"But I should have at -"
"Shhhh," he cuts me off.
"I'm all good. Okay?"

I sigh wearily and finally look up at him.
"Okay?" He pushes when I don't say anything.

"Okay," I respond reluctantly and look down again, feeling even more terrible.
"Watching you sleep was the most beautiful thing ever and if I had to sleep on a desk to make that possible, then I'm content with every second I spent on this desk."

I can feel my heart swell with joy and gratitude as his words wash over me, leaving me feeling seen and recognized in a way I never had before.
This is by far the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.
His words echo and re-echo in my ears and I feel my lips curve up into a smile.