Private Lessons
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Chaotic Soul
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Riley Adams is what high schoolers would call a nerd: booksmart and shy, with zero fashion sense. Tristan Harris is the exact opposite: captain of the football team, and the hottest guy in school by far. To say they don’t get along is putting it mildly… But then Riley starts offering private lessons to make some quick cash. Sure, they might despise each other, but it’s a thin line between love and hate.
Lucy's Mall Haul
RILEY
“God, stop that racket!” I groaned, eyes still closed.
I reached out to silence my annoying phone, but it slipped from my grasp and hit the floor with a thud.
“Just great.”
I flung the covers off in frustration and picked up my phone from the floor. A small crack marred the top left corner, and my best friend’s name flashed on the screen.
“Lucy! It’s Sunday!” I practically shouted into the phone. I hated being woken up, especially on a Sunday.
“Morning to you too, sunshine!” she shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
I rolled my eyes. “This better be important,” I yawned, flopping back onto my bed and brushing my chestnut brown hair from my face.
“School starts tomorrow, and we’re officially seniors. We need to shop, Ri.”
“You mean you need to shop,” I corrected her, trying to burrow back under the covers.
“Riley Adams, get out of bed. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes to haul your lazy ass to the mall.” She hung up before I could respond.
I adored Lucy, but she could drive me nuts.
After a fair amount of sulking, I dragged myself out of bed and took a quick shower.
I pulled on my ripped jeans and my favorite Gryffindor hoodie, then tossed my hair up in a bun before heading downstairs. My dad was on the couch, engrossed in the newspaper.
“Wow, you’re up early. It is Sunday, isn’t it?” he asked, adjusting his glasses to double-check the date on the paper.
“Lucy’s dragging me shopping,” I complained, grabbing a bowl and a box of cereal from the kitchen shelves.
“But that’s good, right? You could use some new clothes.” He reached for his wallet to give me some money.
“I’m not buying anything for myself, Dad. And what’s wrong with my clothes?” I pouted, glancing down at my hoodie and jeans.
“Nothing, sweetheart, but if you want new clothes, ask me for money. Don’t hesitate.” He gave me a warm smile.
I sighed, carrying my bowl of cereal over to him. “I know, Dad, but I’m fine.”
“Alright, then. I’m off to the store for dinner supplies. Lock up before you leave, okay?” He kissed my forehead and stood to leave.
“Okay.”
It was just me and my dad. My mom wasn’t around.
She and my dad divorced when I was five. She left him for another man. We didn’t keep in touch with her, and she didn’t try to reach out to us.
My dad was a carpenter. His pay was decent, but not always enough, so I worked part-time at a library near school.
Dad didn’t like me juggling work and school, but I’d convinced him.
I could be pretty stubborn.
We managed to pay the bills, but I worried about college. I was an average student, so scholarships were out of the question.
My thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.
“Coming!” I called, setting my half-eaten cereal on the coffee table and rushing to answer the door.
I opened it to find my best and only friend, Lucy Wilson.
She was my polar opposite.
Beautiful. Smart. Wealthy.
Every guy in school was smitten with her. Sometimes, I wondered why she hung out with a nobody like me.
She never flaunted her wealth, unlike other rich girls. That was one of the reasons I liked her. We’d been friends since first grade.
“Ready to go?” she asked cheerfully, jingling her car keys in front of my face.
I locked the door behind me. “Yeah, but why shouldn’t I kill you right now?”
“Because you love me, babe.” She winked and climbed into her car. I slid into the passenger seat.
“I hate you, Wilson. You owe me,” I grumbled, sinking into the seat. Soon we were on our way.
“Quit complaining, Ri. It’ll be fun.”
“Fun for you. Boring for me.”
“Let’s get you some new clothes, too. Something hot and sexy. It’s senior year, Ri, and you’re still a virgin,” she whispered the last part.
I scowled. “Do I look like I care?” I shrugged.
She ignored me. “But I care, and as your best friend, it’s my duty to make sure you get a boyfriend this year. You are so getting laid before we go to college.”
Easy for her to say. She was dating Andrew Simmon. He was on the swim team, and he was perfect. They’d been together for nearly a year.
“I have more important things to worry about, Lu,” I said quietly.
She sighed heavily. “I told you, my parents are willing to pay for your college, babe. You can pay them back whenever.”
I shook my head firmly. “No way! I’ve told you a million times, I’m not okay with it. I can find a way to earn extra money and save for college.”
I stared out the window.
“You’re so stubborn,” she muttered.
But I was already lost in thought.
***
“What about this one?” Lucy asked, emerging from the dressing room in a purple skirt.
“Eww! No way,” I grimaced. She shot me a dirty look.
We’d been at this for hours. In the end, she bought the dress she’d picked out first.
“Who’s on the other end of that text?” I asked, my stomach growling as we made our way to McDonald’s.
“Andrew. He’s back from his trip, and I can’t wait to see him,” she replied, her voice filled with excitement. I couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. They were adorable together.
The idea of having a boyfriend did intrigue me from time to time. I wasn’t a total bore. I’d been on a date or two, but they hadn’t exactly been successful.
I wasn’t the kind of girl guys typically fell for. I was the nerdy type, always in hoodies and loose-fitting clothes. But honestly, I was okay with that.
I wanted a guy to like me for me. I didn’t want to change who I was just to snag a boyfriend.
“Hey, Adams! Still can’t afford to shop at the mall?”
The voice was familiar and grating. I turned around to see a face that was annoyingly perfect—a face I absolutely despised.
Tristan-freaking-Harris!
Football team captain.
Popular.
Good-looking.
Irritating.
Smug.
Insufferably arrogant.
I detested him with every fiber of my being. Our feud started back in seventh grade when he began tormenting me for no apparent reason. It had only escalated since then.
All the popular guys needed someone to pick on—to flaunt their supposed coolness—and it seemed I was Tristan’s chosen victim.
“Back off, Tristan. Leave her alone,” Lucy snapped at him. But he just laughed with his buddies as they continued to approach us.
“Always a joy, Adams. Can’t wait to tease you at school tomorrow.” He smirked, and I flipped him the bird as he sauntered past, his idiotic friends in tow.
“God, I can’t stand that jerk,” I muttered.
Lucy draped an arm around my shoulders. “Don’t let him get to you, babe. Just one more year.”
“Yeah. Let’s head home. I’m not hungry anymore,” I said, my mood deflated. I tugged her toward the exit.
