Tutoring the Bad Boy: A Fake Relationship Romance (Port Crest High Romance Book 1) Read online

  Tutoring the Bad Boy

  A Fake Relationship Romance

  Bree Livingston

  Edited by

  Christina Schrunk

  Tutoring the Bad Boy

  Copyright © 2020 by Bree Livingston

  Edited by Christina Schrunk

  https://www.facebook.com/christinaschrunk.editor

  Proofread by Krista R. Burdine

  https://www.facebook.com/iamgrammaresque

  Cover design by Bree Livingston

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  Bree Livingston

  https://www.breelivingston.com

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Tutoring the Bad Boy/ Bree Livingston. -- 1st ed.

  ISBN: 9798694123556

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Epilogue

  Also by Bree Livingston

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Ginny

  Kaleb Quinn.

  Even with a mouthful of braces, he’s downright mouthwatering. Eighteen, tall, sandy-blond hair, and eyes so blue they make the Port Crest, Texas, sky jealous. At one point, when my mom and I first moved here, I crushed on him. Honestly, there wasn’t a girl who didn’t. At the time, he had a reputation for being a superhero, like rescuing kids from bullies and sitting with the kid who had no friends.

  He was the catch of the century until our sophomore year when his mom left his dad for the football coach. In the last two years, while he’s become even more attractive, he’s also been put on the do-not-date list. Granted, all boys fall into that category, but him especially.

  Not that I’d even think about anything with Kaleb. I wouldn’t dare. At least not anymore. My mom—the principal—would k-i-double-l kill me. My life is mapped out. The path marked like it’s MapQuested and the coordinates set in stone so solid it’s got rebar in it.

  Two days ago, I turned seventeen. As a senior and the captain of the volleyball team, recruiters are on my horizon this year. I’m no prodigy or anything, but I’m a beast on the volleyball court.

  So my foreseeable future is set, and to tell the truth, I’m not even mad about it. I just wish my mom wasn’t so militant about it.

  “Stop, Ginny,” my best friend and cheerleader co-captain, Veronica Mars, says as we’re eating lunch in the courtyard. Yeah, her parents totally knew what they were doing when they named her that. They aren’t even coy about it. She was a cool character, and with a last name like Mars, there was no other choice, and Ronnie rocks the name.

  After skipping a grade, she’s now a senior but still a year younger than me. Her parents have her future planned too. Well, her mom does. They’ve made a deal. She gets to be a normal teenager until next summer, and then she’s heading to California to become an actress.

  I glance at her, squinting as the midday Wednesday sun hits me in the eyes. It’s breezy today, and I’m grateful; otherwise, I’d be melting in the September heat.

  “Stop what?” I ask as Kaleb leaves the courtyard.

  Ronnie pierces me with a knowing look, and I know exactly what she’s thinking. Kaleb and I were friends before we hit eighth grade, but just a few weeks into school that year, he changed. At the time, I was more than crushing on him a little. He’d saved me from a bully on my first day of school when I was a new kid in fifth grade, which fueled that feeling. The crush died when I caught him kissing a girl at the water fountain two days into our eighth-grade year. We went from talking during lunch to him hardly giving me eye contact.

  Dixie Jones, a junior and one of the cheer squad flyers, shoots me a look. “She asks like it’s not obvious.”

  I’ve known Dixie about as long as I’ve known Ronnie, but she doesn’t spend the night as often. She has two brothers. One’s a freshman and the other is a senior Ronnie crushed on for a while, but he met Mandy French a year ago when she moved to Port Crest and hasn’t given another girl a second glance since.

  Ronnie gives me a like-you-don’t-know look, her eyebrows lifting as she blinks. “That rabbit hole you like to fall down. Look, he’s cute…and he has a chest that could make David cry, which means he’s probably got other areas that would have the statue in tears as well…”

  My cheeks burn.

  Dixie gives Ronnie a playful pop on the arm and then fans her face with her hands. “Oh my word, stop that. Ladies don’t say things like that.”

  Out of everyone I know, she’s as prim and proper as they come. Etiquette lessons, junior debutant ball, and cotillions. I’ve missed the last few events her parents have hosted. She’s been begging me to ask my mom if I can come to the next one her parents are throwing.

  A chuckle pops out of Ronnie. “Please. Don’t even tell me your minds haven’t wandered that path.”

  “It hasn’t. I keep my mind and my path above the waist,” Dixie says.

  I level my eyes at Ronnie. “Exactly. Plus, he’s off-limits. I heard he got in trouble again this weekend. If his dad wasn’t a lawyer, his butt would be in jail by now. Besides, guys like him don’t date girls like me.” Or more like, can’t date.

  Ronnie takes a quick glance over her shoulder and turns back to me, popping a grape in her mouth before saying, “Agreed. Do you guys know what he got picked up on?”

  Shrugging, Dixie pulls a nail file out of her purse and goes to work on one of her nails. “Nope.”

  Shaking my head, I take the last bite of my sandwich and shrug. Holding my hand over my mouth, I say, “Just rumors that may or may not be true. All I know is, if he doesn’t stop, he’s going to be stuck in Port Crest for the rest of his life. No one wants that.”

  “Tell that to the tourists.”

  Dixie crosses her legs, holding her hand out and spreading her fingers to check her nail. “I’m certainly not staying here.”

  I nod in agreement. “If I was a tourist, I’d know I wasn’t stuck here.” I laugh. “Really, it’s not that bad. I just hate to see someone so cute end up as prison bait.”

  “Plus, let’s face it, a bad boy hits all the right notes.” Ronnie gives a dramatic sigh her mom would be proud of.

  I duck my head as I smile. Ronnie does have a point. I don’t watch Grease just because Danny wears a leather coat. “Okay, I need to get to class. If I’m late, Mrs. Yat
es will try to hold me after school, and my mom will not be happy. I don’t know if I can handle another yelling match between the two of them.”

  “No joke. I don’t think I’ve ever seen your mom’s face so red in my entire life.”

  Ronnie isn’t kidding. The last argument my mom got into with my Shakespeare Studies teacher was the worst to date. If there’d been mud, I could have charged admission. No need for a full-ride scholarship after that, for sure. “Right?”

  Dixie drops her file back in her purse and stands, shouldering it, and picks up her books. “Mind taking my trash?” she asks, and I point to my tray. She tosses it on and smiles. “I gotta fly. See you two later.”

  We say bye, and she floats to the music annex. She’s been spending more and more time over there. Ronnie and I have asked about it, but when she dodged it, we stopped pressing her. Everyone needs their…thing.

  It’s my turn to leave too. I stand and shoulder my bookbag. “You’re spending the weekend, right?”

  “Yeah. Dad’s working late, and mom is flying to LA to audition for a commercial.” Ronnie’s lips turn down for the briefest of seconds. If there’s one thing she’s good at, it’s hiding the fact that she wishes she had a mom who wanted to be a mom.

  I smile. “Okay. Mom just wanted me to make sure. It’ll be Friday, so you know what’s for dinner.”

  “Cauliflower-shell spaghetti tacos? Really? Is she ever going to give up?”

  I lift one eyebrow. “I’m not sure she knows how. Just bring provisions, and we’ll both make it out alive.”

  She pats her gym bag. “I’ll stop for donuts on the way over.”

  My mouth waters. I know Ronnie hates her mom flying off, but I can’t say it doesn’t work in my favor. “That’ll work. See ya later.”

  As I head inside for class, I chuck my trash into the bin on the way in. Walking the halls this year feels weird. It’s felt weird since senior year started three weeks ago. I know it’s my last year. I know college is on the horizon. Things are changing, and while I’m excited, I’m also scared.

  My mom has controlled me for so long that I wonder what life will be like without her twenty-four-seven influence-slash-surveillance. What will it be like to make my own choices? What will it be like to live my own life? What will freedom feel like?

  Not that my mom is horrible. She’s not. As a single mom, she’s worked hard for everything she has…we have. Starting when I was just a baby, she worked to get her degree and fought for every step of success. I know she just doesn’t want me to struggle as she did.

  Part of that is falling for the wrong guy, which is how I came to be. Mom thought he was the love of her life—and my dad isn’t a bad guy, either. He just didn’t know how to grow up. His dreams were always over-the-top and out there. When I came along, he didn’t know how to deal. But who knows how to deal with things when their head has never been anywhere but in the clouds?

  As I reach Mrs. Yates's classroom, I get a handle on the things weighing on my mind. Apparently, I finished lunch earlier than I thought, and I’m the first one to arrive at my AP Shakespeare Studies class. “Hi, Mrs. Yates.”

  “Ms. Gray, nice to see you on time for once.”

  “I really am sorry for being late last time. I went off campus for lunch, and I got a flat tire. It wasn’t planned; I promise.”

  “That wasn’t the point. You were late the entire week, and I told you the consequences. And yet, it didn’t matter. I’m not even sure why you show up for my class. It isn’t like your mother won’t make sure you pass.”

  Deep breaths. She’s not mad at me, necessarily, she’s mad at my mom…and, to be honest, I don’t blame her. “I like your class. In fact, it’s my favorite this year so far.”

  My teacher eyes me and then gets this sparkly glint. “Is that so?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I cross my heart with my finger. “Not that I’m a scout, but totally and honestly.”

  “Prove it.”

  My mouth drops open slightly. “How?”

  “Tutor one of my students. He’s whip-smart, but he’s in my afternoon regular Shakespeare Studies class and it seems to be eluding him. He wants to be an architectural engineer. He’s decent at math, but with his dysgraphia and dyslexia, he struggles. You have dogged determination and patience, and if you really mean what you say, you’ll do this. He needs someone in his corner. Someone unexpected.”

  Tutor? I did a little of that my sophomore year, and I was okay at it. I’d had to cut it because of volleyball practice.

  As my silence lingers, and the glint in Mrs. Yate’s eyes dulls. “Exactly what I thought. All talk.” My teacher stands and holds herself with one arm while she waves the other. “‘My daughter is absolutely subject to the same rules as everyone else, but she’s a great student. She had a flat tire. There was no way she could’ve planned for that. As for the other tardiness, a girl must eat lunch. Her team depends on her to be healthy.’” She mimics my mom’s voice so well, and I hold in a giggle.

  Tutoring. It’s the only thing that will get me into the good graces of my Shakespeare Studies teacher, and I’m desperate. “I’ll do it.”

  She eyes me a second. “Really?”

  “Yep, I’ll tutor your student.” I pause. “I can do this.”

  “Great,” she says as she leans over her desk, scribbling something on one of her sticky notes before handing it to me. “That’s the name of the student. I told him I’d have someone get in touch with him as soon as I could.”

  A few students trickle in, and I fold the note. “Great. I’ll get it set up as soon as possible.” I smile.

  The glint in Mrs. Yate’s eyes turns devilish. “I can’t wait to hear how it goes.”

  I walk to my seat as more students come in. When Mrs. Yates is distracted by two guys rough-housing, I take the note and open it.

  Oh. Crud.

  Kaleb Quinn.

  I’m so dead.

  Chapter Two

  Kaleb

  I snatch the keys off the counter. “Yeah, Dad, I’ll be back before ten.” Way before ten, but I like to make him sweat just a little.

  My dad turns on his heels and faces me. “I mean it, Kaleb. I bailed you out, but you have a curfew now. It’s Thursday and a school night. One minute after nine, and you’re looking at military school. You’re lucky you aren’t in jail this time, and lucky the judge owed me a favor.”

  More like my dad wants to make sure I’ll be able to follow in his footsteps. “I was there, Dad. I think I remember.”

  After talking to that college recruiter two days ago, I need to shape up despite the intense desire to stick it to my dad. I turned eighteen four weeks ago, and that magical number changes things. Arrests, warrants, jail time—all those things add up now. If I really want to be an architectural engineer, I need to keep my nose clean and my eyes on the prize.

  At no point in my life did I want to be a lawyer. The only reason I’ve made it my mission to get into trouble is to make it impossible for me to get my license. Maybe that way my dad will get off my back. It’s a fine line that I balance. Keeping myself out of enough trouble to really hold me back and getting into enough that my dad’s law-school dreams are crushed.

  “Kaleb, I’m not the bad guy here. I know law isn’t your favorite thing, but I thought…I thought you’d keep an open mind. That was what we agreed to. I’d keep an open mind about architectural engineering, and you’d keep an open mind about law school.”

  “Only, you didn’t keep an open mind. You slammed a fist down and decided for me. I don’t want to go to law school. I’ve never been interested, and as much as you want me to do it, I can’t.”

  My dad swears under his breath. “We come from a long line—”

  “And it dies with me,” I say as I snatch the back door open and slam it behind me. Not that I’m trying to be dramatic, but I’ve got a tutoring session in Groves, twenty-minutes north of Port Crest, with Ginny Gray.

  Color me shocked.

&n
bsp; I laugh as I get in the car and start it up, catching the ocean waves in the rearview mirror as I back out of the driveway. Before my mom left, I loved the beach. Now it’s only a reminder that just because things look nice doesn’t mean they are.

  It’s taken a week for Ginny’s schedule to open enough to tutor me. Ginny Gray tutoring me? The words scroll through my brain, and I still can’t believe it. And I’m meeting her at the library the next town over? What sort of lie has she sold her mom? It has to be a lie, because there is no way her mom would be cool with Ginny being anywhere near my gravity. Which is fine by me. The only thing my parents’ divorce taught me was that relationships aren’t worth my time.

  They started fighting just as I reached seventh grade. By the time I reached eighth, even hiding in my closet, I could still hear them screaming at each other. That was around the time things began changing for me too. I didn’t want everyone to know my life was falling apart and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Most of the friendships I had dried up. Looking back, I can’t blame them. The tension between my parents was rubbing off on me, and I did my fair share of yelling too. Even when I had no reason to.

  I’m surprised Mrs. Yates pulled this off, but knowing the tension between her and the principal, most likely my Shakespeare Studies teacher saw it as a way to stick it to Ginny’s mom.

  The last screaming match they got into carried through the whole school, and those who couldn’t hear it heard about it from those who were eyewitnesses. From what I understood, tickets could’ve been sold and the new football stadium would’ve been paid in full twice over.