The Tutor's Clause

Chapter 8

The storm cleared sometime after midnight, but the lockdown didn't lift until morning.

Simona woke stiff and cold, curled in a library chair, a hoodie draped over her shoulders that definitely wasn't hers.

She sat up. George was across the table, arms crossed, head tipped back against the chair, asleep.

"George."

He startled awake. "What. Are we on fire?"

"No. Lockdown's over. They just announced it."

He blinked at her, then at the hoodie on her shoulders, then rubbed his face like he was trying to remember how it got there.

"Did I give you that?"

"You did. Around two in the morning. I don't really remember agreeing to take it."

"You were shivering. I wasn't going to just sit there."

"Chivalrous."

"Practical."

Simona handed it back, though some small part of her almost didn't want to.

"We should get back to our rooms before someone notices we spent the night in the library together," she said.

"Separately in the library. There's a difference."

"Try explaining that to Petra."

George stood, stretching, wincing at the stiffness in his neck. "Exam's in two days."

"I know."

"Do you think I'm ready?"

"Ask me after we finish page eighty."

"We never finished page eighty."

"Then that answers your question."

---

They met again that evening, back in the empty classroom, notebooks open, the events of the storm sitting quietly between them, unspoken but not forgotten.

"Can we talk about last night," George said, halfway through a problem.

"We are talking about last night. Currently. Right now."

"You know what I mean."

Simona set her pencil down. "What part."

"The part where I told you about my father. And the part where you said you were glad I told you."

"I meant it."

"I know. I just." He paused, searching for the words. "I don't usually let people see that. Any of it."

"I noticed."

"So thanks. For not making it weird."

"I'm making it slightly weird right now by discussing how not weird it was."

That got a real laugh out of him, short and genuine. "Fair."

They went back to the problem set, but something had shifted, easier now, less like two people forced together and more like two people who'd chosen to keep showing up.

"Can I ask you something," Simona said, echoing his own habit back at him.

"Go ahead."

"If you fail this exam. Not the whole program, just you. What happens?"

George's jaw tightened slightly. "Rowing's gone. My father pulls back from the school entirely, which means the program's gone too, eventually, once the current scholarships run out and nothing replaces them."

"So it really is everything."

"Yeah."

"No pressure, then."

"None at all."

Simona reached over and tapped his notebook. "Then let's make sure it doesn't come to that."

"You keep saying things like that like you actually believe them."

"I do believe them. You're not the disaster everyone thinks you are, George. You're just someone who never had a reason to try before."

He looked at her for a long moment. "And now I do?"

"Now you do."

Something passed between them, quiet and unspoken, the kind of moment that could have gone somewhere if either of them had leaned into it.

Neither of them did. Not yet.

"Page eighty one," Simona said instead, breaking it before it could become something neither of them was ready for.

"Right. Page eighty one."

---

They worked for another hour, steady and focused, George's answers sharper than they'd been all term.

"You're actually good at this," Simona said, checking his work. "When you're not sabotaging yourself."

"High praise."

"Don't let it go to your head."

"Too late."

She smiled despite herself, packing up her notes as the session wound down. "Same time tomorrow. Final session before the exam."

"I'll be there."

"On time?"

"I'm always on time now. You've corrupted me."

"That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me all week."

George grabbed his bag, then paused at the door, the same way he had before.

"Simona."

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. For all of it. Not just the tutoring."

"You already thanked me for that."

"I know. I'm thanking you again."

Something about the way he said it settled in her chest, warm and a little unsettling, the kind of feeling she didn't have a category for yet.

"You're welcome," she said. "Now go get some actual sleep before the exam, not library-chair sleep."

"No promises."

He left, and Simona stood there a moment longer, telling herself the flutter in her chest was just relief that tomorrow was the last session, that soon this would all be over.

She didn't quite believe that either.