Why had his mother insisted he should sign up for this damn thing?
Robin's pulse rose the moment he stepped out of Statistics class. He dreaded the challenge that awaited.
New people. With new puzzled glares and new expectations on him. And new opportunities for him to embarrass himself.
Unable to contain nervous jitters in his body, he twirled a pencil between his fingers as he walked through the hallways of Vale University.
On account of his shaking hands, the pencil flew out of his grasp, soon disappearing among the colorful sneakers, smacking flip-flops, and comfortable flats of fellow students. Robin looked longingly after the monogrammed writing device but didn't bother trying to locate it. He had more in his bag anyway.
"Will you be all right by yourself, Robin?" His best friend Des swept a carrot-colored braid away from her shoulder. She skipped along beside him, without a care in the world. She always was so unfazed by everything, while the smallest obstacle stumped Robin."I need to head to my dorm and feed Pax before our next class."
"Of course. You can't let the poor bunny starve." After being friends for most of their lives, Robin was used to playing second fiddle to whatever fluffy animal was Des' current obsession. "And I'm supposed to be tutoring this guy for the whole semester. I think I can meet up with him by myself."
A wordless look and a raised eyebrow told Robin that Des wasn't convinced of his ability to meet up with a previously unfamiliar person, hold a conversation with them, and behave like a socially competent human being throughout. Truth be told, Robin wasn't convinced either. Just the thought of introducing himself made him draw a blank on his name.
Des usually served as his buffer in social situations. She could strike up a conversation with anyone, at any time, and make them feel at ease without even trying–a quality Robin envied. Maybe if he'd gotten more practice as a child—if he'd had more opportunities to interact with his peers during his formative years—then he'd be less inept. Totally non-inept probably wasn't within the bounds of his personality.
"I'll manage," he unconvincingly assured Des.
"Just try to be yourself and don't panic." Des gave Robin a bolstering pat on the shoulder, pulled up her hoodie—which made the cat ears on it flip up—and hurried down the stairs.
With a sigh, Robin pulled up his hoodie as well. It didn't have adorably floppy cat ears, but it did shield him from the scary outside world. Being a sophomore, he should be used to the hustle and bustle of college life by now. But the social intricacies of conversing with his peers still escaped Robin. So he spent most of his time outside class in his dorm room, with books as his only friends. A few times, Des had forced him to social outings, but he soon escaped home to his safe abode again.
A glance at his watch told him he had ten minutes before he had to be at the counseling office. And it also told him he would, without a doubt, get an intrusive phone call within the next two minutes. Because there was no way he would be able to escape the daily noon call from his mother. Not today.
Liza Erie was nothing if not punctual, and one minute later, as Robin walked past blathering and giggling students, his phone inevitably buzzed.
"Hi, Mom." He put the device to his ear and prepared for the barrage.
"Are you about to meet the student you're going to tutor?" Robin's mother wasn't one for cordial greetings or small talk. But she had memorized his daily schedule and also calculated exactly how long it would take for him to walk across campus to be able to keep tabs on her son during the day, despite him being in college two hours away. At least it was better than her coming to school with him, which she had sometimes done during his high school years—to Robin's mortal embarrassment.
"I am," he muttered. "But I still don't understand why you made me sign up for this."
"It will look good on your resume that you've been tutoring a poor disabled kid," his mother countered. "And I'd much rather have you do this than all the other stuff I hear college kids get into. Partying, drinking... other vile stuff. There's so much... trouble out there."
Trouble. The unspoken code between them for boys like Tristan Conway, the captain of Robin's quiz bowl team in high school. With thick curly hair and dark doe eyes, he'd made Robin's insides feel like he was on a roller coaster—or at least how he imagined one would feel, as his mother had never allowed him to partake in such thrills—every time their eyes met. Which they did often because Robin soon got addicted to the hair-raising feeling of falling. His mother must have noticed. Of course, she had. Liza Erie noticed everything. And she'd pulled him out of the quiz bowl team immediately.
Robin had kept away from trouble ever since. It was easier that way. It wasn't like he had any idea of how to act on his confusing emotions anyway, and he certainly couldn't see anyone returning his affections. Because who would want a skinny guy with lacking social skills dressed in clothes his mother bought him?
"But surely this poor crippled boy won't be trouble," his mother concluded. "Were you told anything about him?"
"Just that he was in some kind of accident last semester." It was what the counseling office had told Robin, anyway. "Which is why he missed a lot of classes and needs someone to help him catch up."
His mother sighed at the lack of intel. "Just tell me everything afterward, Robin."
"I will," he promised.
He probably wouldn't. Robin had long ago mastered the art of only telling his mother what she needed to know. "I need to go now, Mom. I'm at the counseling office. I'll talk to you later."
Before his mother could protest, Robin hung up on her. He needed to gather courage for what was to come.
He'd stopped right outside the door to the office. Walking through doors was always a scary prospect to Robin because you never knew what awaited on the other side or how you were expected to react.
A deep breath. Then he pushed the door inward.
"Are you my tutor?" Robin turned to locate the voice and found himself peering into green eyes.
Green like leaves in spring. Green like crisp apples. Green like freedom.
"I-I'm..." Robin stuttered, lost for words–a condition that wasn't uncommon for him. "I think I am..."
The words weren't very eloquent, but at least he got them out.
"Good." The boy with the green eyes smiled widely and blew a few blond ringlets away from his face before he lifted his right hand from his crutches—which Robin hadn't even noticed until then—and offered it to Robin. "I'm Tyler Caster. You can call me Ty."
"I'm..." What was his name again? Anxiousness and pretty green eyes had wiped the information from Robin's brain. He looked down to center himself. Tyler had given him a nickname, did he have a nickname too? "...Robby," Robin said, even though no one in his life had ever called him that. He took the outstretched hand in a brief greeting.
"I guess you're supposed to tutor me. Not that I need it..." Tyler sighed and looked down as he once again grabbed the crutch handle. "I can study perfectly well by myself. Well, at least just as well—or not well rather—as I could before this... whole situation."
A hand gestured vaguely toward his leg. That's when Robin discovered the reason for the crutches. The fabric of Tyler's jeans was tucked just under his left knee, secured with a safety pin to prevent the pants from dragging on the floor. The lower part of his leg was missing.
Terrified to say something wrong, Robin said nothing, instead, he just stared. Although he soon realized staring was highly impolite, so he quickly looked away, toward the generic landscape paintings on the office walls before he realized that was probably also impolite. So he looked down at the floor, cheeks flushed with shame, feeling like he should say something. Anything. But he didn't know what.
Des would have known what to say.
"Mr. Erie?" A peppy voice saved Robin from himself. "That's you, right?"
A young woman, who looked like she had sprung right out of a sitcom, appeared out of one of the office doors. Her long hair was pulled back by a hairband with a bow, her dress was sprinkled with yellow polka dots, and she held a giant bowl of lollipops in her hands.
Robin turned toward the perky woman, who seemed not much older than a student herself. "That's me, Miss."
"I'm glad you're here!" she exclaimed. "I'm Miss Horn—although you can call me Tallulah—the student counselor in charge of disability services. I see that you and Tyler have already gotten acquainted. Have you decided which days you'll meet for tutoring sessions yet?"
"No..." Tyler interjected. "I don't need-"
Miss Horn gave the student a stern look."You promised your aunt you'd give tutoring a try, Tyler. She just wants to make sure you're cared for."
Tyler sighed and mumbled something Robin couldn't make out.
"What did you say, Tyler?" Miss Horn asked, still as cheerful as ever.
"Thursdays," Tyler repeated grumpily. "I can do tutoring on Thursdays, I guess. After class. If I have to."
"Great!" Miss Horn's enthusiasm seemed to be endless. "Are Thursdays good for you, Robin?"
"Thursdays after class work for me." Robin's gaze lifted to once again get a glimpse of those green eyes. There was a hint of embarrassment hiding among the brisk greenery of Tyler's irises, telling Robin that Tyler abhorred all this attention on himself.
"Perfect!" Miss Horn looked down at her colorful watch. "If I'm not mistaken, you two have Psych 101 starting soon. You should hurry so you're not late." She held out the sweets-filled bowl toward the boys. "You guys want a lollipop for the road?"
Robin hesitated. His mother had never allowed him to have treats when growing up. Once she'd even scolded a well-meaning parent of a classmate who'd let him have cake at a birthday party. Robin wasn't invited to any more birthday parties after that. And even though his mother wasn't around, it always felt like she was watching him. So he shook his head.
Tyler did not display the same hesitation when faced with the candy bowl. Balancing precariously on one crutch, he reached out a hand and grabbed not one but two lollipops.
"Thank you, Miss Horn," Tyler muttered before stuffing the treats into his jeans pocket.
The counselor shoved a pile of books in Robin's arms before rushing the boys out of the office. About two seconds later they stood side by side in the corridor.
"Let's go then." Ty shrugged and started to hobble away. Robin hurried after, trying to not drop the precariously balanced book tower in his arms. Apparently, he was now Tyler's manservant, responsible for carrying his belongings.
By the time they got to the stairs leading down from the second floor to the lobby, Robin was a few steps ahead of Ty. He started down the steps but suddenly noticed the other boy wasn't following.
Robin turned.
Ty had stopped just above the stairs. He surveyed the staircase, worry on his face.
"I'm not too good at stairs these days." A flush rose to his cheeks. "Let's take the elevator instead." Using one of his crutches, he pointed toward a metal door at the end of the hall.
Cursing his thoughtlessness, Robin hurried up the stairs. Chivalrously, he held open the elevator door to let Tyler in.
Once they were in the elevator, Ty seemed to finally relax a little. He leaned against the wall of the elevator and peered up at Robin, his mesmerizing green eyes simultaneously sad and happy.
"Sorry about Miss Horn," he said. "She thinks I'm a baby bird that fell out of its nest who she needs to save and coddle."
Robin looked at the guy in front of him. He certainly didn't look like a baby bird. In fact, if Robin had had to compare Tyler to anything, it would've been to some kind of Greek god. Blond curls danced around his shoulders, muscular arms bulged as he clasped his crutches, and the sharp cheekbones bore a resemblance to chiseled marble.
He looked like trouble.
Tyler must have realized Robin was looking at him. "I didn't fall out of a bird's nest." He shot Robin a soft smile that seemed to light up the whole elevator. "I fell off a bridge... or rather drove off it."
Robin wasn't prepared for that revelation. He must have been gaping. He wanted to know more, but it felt rude to ask. So he stayed quiet. Although he was starting to worry that his quietness appeared rude.
As if sensing Robin's anxious spiraling, Tyler broke the silence once again. "Can you believe she actually keeps lollipops on her desk?" he asked, with a smile that bordered on mischievous. "Miss Horn, I mean. Like we're children who can be plied with candy."
Robin smiled back, cursing his awkwardness. Because he still didn't know what to say.
As silence filled the elevator, Ty rummaged through his jeans pocket to present his loot of candy."Do you want one?"
Robin couldn't say no to those eyes. His mother be damned. So he took the offering. Balancing the tower of books on one arm, he ripped off the wrapper and put the candy in his mouth. The sweet strawberry flavor made his insides tingle from the sugar rush. Or perhaps his body was affected by green eyes and a sweet smile.
"Thank you... Ty," Robin mumbled, finally finding his words again.
"You're welcome, Robby," Tyler replied. With the aid of his teeth, he unwrapped his lollipop and popped it between his lips.
Robby. The name sounded oddly... right when spoken by those sugar-sticky lips.
Robin's mother had been wrong. So wrong.
Because this guy was definitely trouble. Sweet, sweet trouble. The kind of trouble Robin would never tell his mother about.