TUTORING THE BAD BOY

Chapter 8: The Rival and the Invitation

Lydia stared at George across the cafeteria table, her mind reeling.

​"Go to the Homecoming Gala with you?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. "George, the entire senior class is already talking about us. If I show up to the gala on your arm, Chloe Montgomery might actually lose her mind and burn the school down."

​George smirked, leaning back in his chair with infuriating ease. "Let her bring matches. I asked you a question, Vance. What’s your answer?"

​Before Lydia could formulate a response—torn between the thrilling pull of her old feelings and the terrifying prospect of school-wide scrutiny—a clearing of a throat interrupted them.

​"Excuse me. Am I interrupting something?"

​Lydia looked up, blinking in surprise. Standing beside their table was Ethan Cole, the captain of the school debate team and one of the kindest, smartest guys in their senior class. Ethan had always been a steady, reliable presence, helping Lydia organize student council fundraisers and always offering a warm smile in the hallway. Today, however, Ethan looked unusually nervous, his fingers gripping the strap of his messenger bag.

​"Oh, hey Ethan," Lydia said, her cheeks dusting with pink. "No, you're not interrupting. We were just... finishing lunch."

​Ethan offered her a gentle, genuine smile that didn't reach his eyes—because his gaze darted over to George, noting the way George's knee was nearly touching Lydia's under the table and the possessive way he was looking at her. The air between the two boys instantly grew sharp, thick with silent, territorial friction.

​"Right," Ethan said, forcing his attention back to Lydia. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, neatly folded index card. "I was actually looking for you earlier, Lydia. The regional debate finals are next month, and... well, I was wondering if you’d want to go grab coffee after school today to review the preliminary briefs together. Just the two of us."

​Lydia opened her mouth to speak, touched by the invitation. But before a single word could leave her lips, George moved.

​In one fluid, deliberate motion, George sat upright. The casual, playful slouch vanished entirely, replaced by an imposing, cold rigidity. His dark grey eyes locked onto Ethan with a predatory chill that made the debate captain visibly swallow hard.

​"She’s busy," George said, his deep baritone cutting through the air like a blade.

​Ethan blinked, holding his ground despite the intimidating aura radiating from the school’s notorious bad boy. "I was asking Lydia, Sterling, not you."

​George slowly stood up from the bench, towering over the table. He didn't raise his voice, but the quiet menace in his tone was unmistakable. "And I'm telling you, she has tutoring sessions. Every afternoon, Monday through Friday, 3:30 to 5:30. She doesn't have time for coffee."

​Lydia looked between the two of them, her heart racing. She stood up quickly, sliding out of the booth to intervene before things escalated into a full-blown hallway brawl.

​"George, stop," Lydia whispered, laying a hand gently on his forearm. The moment her fingers touched his jacket sleeve, the rigid tension in his muscles softened just a fraction.

​She turned to Ethan, offering a sympathetic, apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, Ethan. George is right—my schedule is packed this week with calculus tutoring and student council. But... I'd love to look over the debate briefs over email tonight if you want to send them."

​Ethan’s expression softened, a hint of hope returning to his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds great, Lydia. I'll email them to you after fifth period." He shot one final, wary glance at George. "See you later."

​As Ethan turned and walked away, George’s gaze followed him until he disappeared into the crowd. The dark storm in George's eyes hadn't faded; if anything, it had deepened.

​George slowly turned his head back to Lydia, his jaw tight. "You were going to say yes to him."

​"Ethan is my friend," Lydia defended herself, crossing her arms as a flicker of annoyance flared in her chest. "He asked me to study debate. I'm allowed to have friends outside of my mandatory tutoring hours, Sterling."

​"He doesn't want to just 'study debate,' Lydia," George muttered, his voice dropping into a rough, low growl as he stepped closer to her, closing the distance between them. "I know the way he looks at you. He’s liked you since sophomore year."

​Lydia froze, her breath catching in her throat. "What?"

​George looked down at her, his expression a mix of frustration and raw, possessive intensity. "He thinks because I pushed you away three years ago, he has a clear path. But he doesn't." George reached out, his warm fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "You're going to the Homecoming Gala with me. And you're not going anywhere with Cole."