Page 25 of Tutored in Love
I never tire of this view. Looking out over the Colorado Plateau to the west, I fancy I can see the curvature of the earth from this height. Below me, Oak Hills Reservoir has adopted a bluish tint in lieu of its usual green, thanks to the cloudless sky. A bead of sweat trickling down my back reminds me that I need to get moving, so I loft a prayer of gratitude heavenward and start back. Maybe I can get past the lower-lookout group before they return to the main trail.
Watching my footing, I avoid the worst of the loose rocks and push my pace on the glorious downhill. I don’t hear the group until we nearly collide at the intersection of trails. With a smile and an apology for startling them, I make my way past several pairs of ill-chosen footwear and some giggling before I hear a deep voice say my name.
“Grace?”
Trail shoes skidding to a full stop, I turn and find Noah watching me.
“In a hurry?” he asks, a cute little blonde sidling up to him.
A bright, fake smile takes possession of my face. “Nah, just getting a run in.”
“Yourunthis?” the blonde asks.
“Sometimes,” I say, noting that she barely reaches past Noah’s shoulder, even in her thick-soled, spindly strapped flip-flops.
“I thought I was going to die coming this far, but Noah insists we have to go to the top.” She pouts and gives him a shoulder bump that hits his elbow.
“Oh,” he says, “Amy, this is Grace. I’ve been tutoring her in math.”
Amy grins knowingly. “Noah’s an absolute genius, isn’t he?” She looks back to Noah and nudges him again. “Too bad I didn’t know you whenIwas taking calculus.” She laughs, high-pitched and annoying, and I feel my endorphins slipping away. “Isn’t it awful?”
Noah’s brows furrow as I consider how to respond to that. As if I’d ever attempt calculus. Ha.
“I’m not—” I begin, but Noah talks over me.
“We’d better get up to the top before it cools off anymore.” He motions Amy and her fashionably useless shoes up the trail ahead of him and tosses an unreadable glance over his shoulder as he follows. “Enjoy your run.”
I mumble a thanks as Amy bids an enthusiastic farewell, and I resume my descent.
I get back to my apartment in record time, but somehow the post-running rush is AWOL.
Chapter 12
Dave’s Deal
After another uneventful weekend spentstudying and wondering why people crave alone time, I’m still trying to figure out what Dave’s deal is. I watched him and Ivy at church together a few days after I cornered him, and they’re as attentive as any real couple—minus the nauseating PDA. I did see him steer her through a crowd with his hand on the small of her back, and I can’t help but think that Ivy’s happier-than-usual mood after church was related. So what’s holding him back?
The benefit of having so much alone time is that I’ve finally been forced to work on my life story project for human development. I’ve summarized my infancy and toddlerhood, recapped elementary school, and painfully relived every I’m-taller-than-every-male-my-age moment of junior high. High school wasn’t quite as bad, as my peers finally started catching up to me and my height became an asset, thanks to sports. It was much more socially acceptable to be the tall girl who was decent at sports than just plain tall.
The downside of progress is the early-twenties chapters that loom ever nearer. I vowed never to relive some things, and now I’m going to have to.
Luckily, I can procrastinate that since Tuesday equals math lab. It’s too cool today to sit under a tree and wait, so I go into the lab with thirty minutes to spare and sit at an empty table. Editing the early chapters of my life story keeps me occupied until Noah appears, five minutes early, as usual. If only I could go back and edit my early twenties.
He sits down without salutation and taps the table for my assignment.
“I am having a great day, Noah,” I say with a grin. “Thank you for asking. How are you?”
“Fine,” he says. “Your assignment?” He taps the table again, and his words are a little clipped, but something in his eyes tells me he’s... not quite joking but also not entirely serious.
I hold out my assignment—more than half of which I was able to solve on my own—and narrow my eyes at him. “You know what I think is odd?” Our eyes meet and hold for a moment. My breath catches, and now I’m almost sure he’s pulling my leg with his dogged stoicism.
He breaks the connection and takes the paper. “Numbers that can’t be divided by two,” he deadpans.
It takes me a second to catch on to his words, and then a loud laugh breaks free before I can stop it. This earns me a number of stern glares from the other occupants of the lab, including Noah.
I get a handle on the volume, but I’m still laughing. “Noah! You made a joke!”
“I stated a fact,” he says, still deadpan, and returns to my calculations.