I don’t sit down, but I stop and turn around long enough to let him know I’m listening.
"Here's the deal," he said. "You tutor me. I keep Caleb off your back."
"That's not a deal. That's a hostage negotiation."
"It's an exchange of services." He leaned forward, elbows on the table. "You need someone between you and a guy who's spent four years treating you like property he forgot to put a fence around. I need someone who won't make me feel like a lab rat every time I misspell something."
"You could get any tutor–"
"I don't want any tutor. I want someone who's already seen me at my worst and didn't run." He held up a hand before I could respond. "The bar doesn't count. That was my best."
I didn't laugh. I wanted to. I didn't.
"Caleb won't stop," he said. Quieter now. "You know that.
