The Goalie's Tutor

Jason's POV

I knew things were getting out of hand when Coach benched me at practice.

Actually benched me.

Me, Jason Monroe.

I stood there with my helmet in my hand, my mouth wide open, while Coach barked at some sophomore to sub in.

It was humiliating.

Yeah, my grades were terrible.

But since when did that matter?

I was Captain. Star goalie. MVP three seasons running.

This town had my face on every banner, every billboard, even on that weird cereal box they sold at the local grocery store.

Kids begged me for autographs after games. Grown men asked for selfies.

So, one D in a few subjects, and suddenly I was public enemy #1?

My parents weren't helping at all. Simon, the left winger, had worse grades than I did. Yet he was still on the ice because of his dad's money. I was sure his father cared less about his grades.

But my dad was acting like the world was ending just because I wasn't a straight-A student.

I told Mom outright when she suggested a tutor that I didn't need an overachieving know-it-all shoving flashcards in my face.

Clearly, she didn't get the memo.

As I lounged shirtless after my latest guest had been shown the door, Mom came back talking.

"No more girls, Jason. Don't test me. This time, I mean it. You will be good to Aria. She's here to help you."

Aria?

I blinked, glancing toward the fireplace where two girls stood awkwardly. The one with pink hair grinned at me. I winked, yeah, she had the whole troublemaker vibe. My kind of fun.

But I couldn't say the same about the other girl. She was smaller, dressed in oversized sweats that practically swallowed her whole body.

Was this Principal Bennett's daughter? The one meant to tutor me? Cute. Real cute.

But don't get it twisted. I don't do cute. Never have. My type was flashy blondes and girls in preppy short skirts. The ones who weren't afraid to show some skin. The ones who knew who I was and made sure I knew they knew.

And she didn't fit in any of the categories. Her eyes didn't light up like the others. Not even a slow once-over. She didn't even seem impressed that I was shirtless. Most girls would've been blushing or stammering.

"So," I said, clearly amused, "you're the bad influence." I narrowed my gaze at the pink-haired girl.

"She prefers the term 'best friend.' I'm Lily," she said cheerfully.

"Jason," I replied.

Lily laughed, flipping her hair back. "Yeah, I know you. Star goalie? Captain... You're impossible not to know."

Damn. Now that's my kind of girl. I threw on a charming smile for Lily and shifted my attention to my mom.

"Aria, Lily... this is Jason, our son."

"So this is the genius I'm supposed to bow down to?" My eyes landed on Aria.

Mom let out a small, exhausted sigh and handed Aria a folder. "These are his class schedules and recent test results. I figured you could go through them and set a plan."

"I don't need a babysitter," I cut in.

Mom's lips thinned. "Jason..."

"No, seriously. We talked about this, Mom. I told you I don't need a tutor following me around with a stick up her..."

"Enough. It's not your decision to make, so you should be happy your father and I are doing this." She turned to Aria and Lily. "I'm so sorry. He's... difficult lately."

"No kidding," Lily muttered under her breath.

"Aria, maybe you and Jason can sit and talk. Get to know each other. Lily, would you mind coming with me to grab those tutoring materials from the study upstairs?"

Lily hesitated, her gaze shifting to Aria, who gave a subtle nod. Go, I got this... Maybe? Once they were gone, it was just me and her.

I dropped onto the couch again, this time stretching my arms wide across the backrest as I watched her. Brown curly shoulder-length hair, grey eyes, and small lips? I couldn't deny that she was attractive. But then she still hadn't said a word. Was she mute?

"Let me guess," I drawled, "you've already got your flashcards alphabetised and your planner colour-coded?"

She didn't respond. She was too busy pulling the folder open and flipping through the pages.

I scoffed. "Seriously? You're gonna stand there like I didn't just insult you?"

"I've been called worse," she finally muttered.

Thank God. At least she could talk. I didn't have to learn sign language to communicate with her.

"Yeah? Daddy's a principal, right? Explains the straight posture and the whole uptight energy. Bet you call him 'Sir' at home."

I knew exactly what I was getting at. I was hoping to strike a nerve and see how far I could push her.

"First of all," she said, finally looking up from her folder, "my dad being the principal doesn't reflect on me. And second, I'm not here to be your friend, nor am I here to be your fangirl. I'm here because your parents asked for help."

I clapped my hands slowly. "Wow. You're tough."

She inhaled through her nose. Had I gotten through to her? I sincerely hoped so. "Look, I don't care if you hate tutoring. I don't care if you hate me. But you want to play hockey again, right? You want to go to college and go pro?"

My jaw twitched, and I didn't say anything.

"Then shut up, take the damn help, and let's both get through this. We don't have to like each other."

I stared at her for a long moment. "You talk too much."

She ignored my comment, pulled out the placement tests, and dropped them onto the coffee table. "Start these tonight. I'll come back tomorrow to see where you're at."

"Sure," I replied sarcastically. "Can't wait."

I watched her walk away, and when she was out of sight, I hurled the tests across the room and groaned. My life was a complete mess.