Morgan
"What's your family like?"
Trevor seemed taken aback by my sudden question, his form noticeably tensing up.
"Did I hit a nerve?" I asked with furrowed eyebrows. "S-sorry, I—"
"Nah, it's okay," he immediately replied, cutting me off. He waved me off dismissively. "I, uh... Well, it's a sensitive topic."
"You don't have to..." I trailed off, unable to find the right words. "You know."
"My, um... My dad's in jail."
My eyes widened upon hearing that, my heart dropping into the pit of my stomach. I didn't expect him to open up after he shot me down, but hearing that his father is a convict just shocked me to my very core. I was expecting him to maybe come from a broken home—at least that'd explain the way he is—or something of that caliber.
I never would've guessed in a million years that there was an even more tragic backstory behind Trevor Parks.
"Before your mind goes places," the boy chimed in, holding a hand up, "he's wrongfully imprisoned. His lawyer was crap, but you know, it's hard to find a good pro bono lawyer."
Unsure of whether or not I should pry further, I asked softly, "W-what was he convicted of...?"
"I don't know. They said he stole from his boss, but he didn't. I know he didn't," he answered, his gaze glued to the ceiling of The Brew and away from my intent stare.
I didn't have the heart to point out that he could very well be biased because, duh, he's his father, after all.
"Can... Can we drop this?"
"Oh, yeah, of course," I instantly replied, my face burning up with embarrassment. I shouldn't have asked. Quickly changing the topic, I rested my head on my palm as I asked, "So, uh, why did you start talking to me?" Before Trevor could say something like 'you intrigue me' or something of the sort, I raised up my hand and added, "The truth, please."
At that, the older boy shook his head and let out a breathy chuckle. "Alright, fine," he said with a sheepish smile on his face. "I was at Archer's, and... he suggested I come to you."
"For what?"
"Well, erm, this is embarrassing, but—" he paused to nervously fiddle with the loose thread on his white tee, playing with the string as if it was the most interesting thing in the world "—my math grades are down, and Principal Higgins told me to find myself a tutor else I won't graduate next year." As he finally revealed his true intentions of befriending me, for the first time ever in the span of the four years I've known him, he was shy. At last, he looked up and met my eyes. "Archer suggested you."
"M-me?" I repeated. Archer suggested me? He barely knows me. Does he think I'm smart?
"I-it's cool if you don't want to, but yeah," stuttered Trevor, and for once, it was him who was the nervous wreck. "This is why I've been bugging you."
This is a bad idea.
This is a bad idea.
This is a bad idea.
I've already dreamt about the boy, imagined his hot lips devouring my own, so it was safe to say that this was a slippery slope. If I had any self-respect, I'd turn him down; sadly, that wasn't the case. Just seeing Trevor with his walls down like this sort of... I don't know, touched me, made me feel things.
I was delusional, but he made me feel like I was the only one who's ever seen him like this, witnessed this... rather vulnerable side of him.
"It's just tutoring, I promise," he was quick to add on after I had remained silent, remained stuck in my own thoughts. "No qualms."
Ignoring Trevor almost completely, something else came into the pro list: I needed a distraction from Archer and Hanna, by extension. This could be the perfect thing—the perfect distraction—to keep me grounded, to keep me tethered to reality. So, I looked up at him with a bright smile plastered on my face.
"You know what, Trevor? I'll be happy to tutor you."