College Tutors

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Adult Romance  |  House: Booksiesilk Classic Group

A switching male to female perspective written when I was a senior in High School 3 years ago.

Male Perspective:

 

The silence of the library comforts me as I walk through the cramped aisles of book-filled shelves.  Weaving in and out of the different sections, searching for the person that I was supposed to meet for tutoring, I try imagining what he will be like.

Having met all the other tutors and finding that none of them had the patience to deal with me on this particular subject, I wonder what I should expect of him, not to mention how long he will be willing to work with me.  I muse to myself with a slight smile on my face.

 

Finally, coming upon the opening between the bookshelves to a dim corner of the college library that smells of old and musty books, I breathe in deeply, my eyes closing with satisfaction as I luxuriate in the smell of the boundless knowledge surrounding me.

 

Then, stepping forward toward a medium sized table laden with books, flash cards, and countless empty coffee cups, I find a woman sitting at the table with a book in her hands which she’s reading.

 

Reaching it I look at the female who seems possibly my age, though she seems to be slightly frail for a twenty year old. I frown, not only because this woman is taking a place that was supposed to be reserved for me and my tutor, but also because she has completely ignored me. She didn’t look up when I arrived, didn’t tense or shift from someone new entering her presence. And as I ask whether she knew that the spot she is sitting in was reserved for other people, she doesn’t even bat an eyelash. Furthermore, she doesn’t say a thing.

 

I need to try a new approach to this situation, otherwise my tutor is going to think that I brought my girlfriend to the tutoring session. As if anyone here would actually want to get to know me first before dating me. I add as an afterthought to myself.

 

“May I sit here?” I ask as I point to a chair across from where she’s sitting. Her eyes flicker up to meet mine before going back to reading the book she’s holding in her hands. She then lifts her finger to point at the chair diagonal from her.

 

“Sit there. I’m supposed to be meeting with someone who is actually three minutes late, she says dismissively before going back to her book. I sit where she tells me to before checking my watch, which reads 2:27 pm, which is when I’m supposed to meet with my tutor.

 

After a long period of silence, I look around the peaceful library alcove expecting to see my tutor walking up, only to find the endless walls of towering bookshelves surrounding us. The silence was only broken by the sound of her turning the pages of her book as she finishes them.

 

“How often do you work out?” She suddenly asks, though she sounds disinterested.

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Um, not that often, maybe twice a week, on Saturday’s and Sunday’s.”

“Hmmm.” Is her only reply.


 

Female Perspective:


 

I lean back in my chair to check the time on my watch, my eyes narrowing in irritation as I find that the guy I was supposed to tutor today breaks my “arrive half an hour early to everything” moral code. But just as I start reading again I hear footsteps coming towards the secluded college library alcove that I’ve made my usual haunt.

 

A few seconds later a muscular man who looks to be slightly older than me walks into the area wearing dress clothes like he’s preparing for a job interview. Only to stop for a couple of seconds once he’s entered to breathe deeply, his eyes closing, and a small smile playing on his lips. Without looking away from my book I watch him as he walks up to the table, examining everything on it, giving me a once-over. He then gives me a flat out stare as he frowns at me as if I’m ruining something for him.

 

“Did you know that this area was supposed to be reserved for other people?” he asks in a surprisingly soft and melodious voice.

 

Making no outward reaction, I internally laugh at him. He must have a girlfriendhe wassupposed to meet in the library. He’s probably been looking for her all over the place so that they can go at it before their next class. He must be a jock. He’s built like a running back, yet the lean strength in his muscles and quick ease with which he moves suggests that he might also be a boxer in his free time, as well as a yoga specialist. But I don’t recognize him from any of the football team members, nor have I seen him at any of the weekly boxing matches I attend to cheer on my brother, either. He must be a hockey player.I think to myself as I use my peripherals to watch him closely. 

 

“May I sit here?” He asks suddenly as he points to the empty chair across from me. I’m unable to keep from glancing up at him in surprise. Confusion fills me, but I remain outwardly unchanged. So I point to the chair diagonal from me and I keep my answer short and to the point.

 

“Sit there. I’m supposed to be meeting with someone, who is actually three minutes late,” I reply as I turn the page I just finished reading. Why did he ask? I wonder to myself. Jocks don’t ask, they do and they take, not to mention he used proper grammar in the question by using “may” instead of “can. He sat there. But that still doesn’t explain why he asked to sit across from me either. Jocks sit the closest to any girl they can so they can look them over better. But since he’s sat down, he’s barely even looked at me. He just looked around at the various entrances to this area as if he’s still expecting someone. I think to myself as I puzzle over this new development. But as I continue thinking about it, he suddenly pulls out his backpack, which I had thought was holding sports equipment. Instead, he removed some textbooks and starts reading them and doing homework. Out of reflex I move some of my stuff so that he can place his things on the table instead of precariously leaning them off the edge of the table onto his lap.

 

“How often do you work out?” I ask as I write him off as one of those jock’s that make it appear to other students as if they are good students, so they can get whatever girl they want. He looks up at me in surprise as if he wasn’t expecting that question. Pshhh, 'cause you totally didn’t want me to ask that question from the very beginning. I spit sarcastically inside the quiet of my mind.

 

“Me?” He asks in an even stronger facade of surprise. Who else would I be talking to? We’re the only ones back here! I scream inside my head with exasperation at his playing dumb act.

 

“Yes.” I reply with one word only.

“Um, not that often, maybe twice a week, on Saturday’s and Sunday’s.” For some reason I find his answer to be actually genuine despite how physically built he is.

 

“Hmmm.” I say as I contemplate the discrepancies in this conversation and situation overall.


Submitted: December 17, 2019

© Copyright 2021 Spyro the Eternal. All rights reserved.

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