The Goalie's Tutor

Aria's POV

"For the love of God, Mama!" I groaned, half-asleep, rolled over and buried my face deeper under my covers like I could hide from the voice chasing me into the waking world. My pillow muffled my scream as I yelled into it, "I swear, if this isn't about someone dying..."

"Aria, come down." Another call came. This one was more urgent. Mama's Serious Voice™.

There is no pain like being dragged out of a perfect sleep under a mountain of warm blankets while a Minnesota snowstorm rages outside.

I was in the middle of a dream... something about winning a national math award and eating warm brownies with Lily when I heard my name.

I huffed loudly, flung my arm out dramatically, and threw off my blanket cocoon.

The cold slapped my skin instantly.

I winced as my feet hit the ice-brick hardwood floor and immediately cursed all of Minnesota.

No mercy.

Not even for innocents like me.

I grabbed a pair of the thickest socks I could find on the floor... okay, they didn't match, sue me... then yanked my oversized hoodie over my head.

Still half-dead and cranky, I zombie-marched my way downstairs, the cold biting at my ankles.

But the second I stepped off the last stair, I froze.

Standing in the living room were two people I'd never seen before.

A woman with the kind of poise that screamed "expensive taste" in a sleek grey coat, and a tall guy with kind eyes wearing a hockey team jacket.

My mom stood next to them.

"And Good morning to you Aria," Mom said sweetly.

"Uh... hi," I muttered, trying to force a polite smile even though I was mentally in bed with Lily. "Um, can I help you?"

The woman smiled back. A little too tightly. "We're the Monroes. Emily and Grant. Your father recommended you. He said you're the best."

I blinked, not sure where this was heading. "For what?"

Mom gently placed a hand on my shoulder like she could sense I was about to bolt. "They want to talk to you about tutoring."

And just like that, the polite smile dropped from my face. "I'm not a tutor."

Emily took a step forward, smoothing her coat like she was trying to stay composed. "We know. We're not asking for anything long-term. Just... help. For our son. He's a transfer student and..."

"No offence," I cut in, my arms folding instinctively, "but I'm not about to become someone's homework babysitter just because my dad made a promise. Whatever he said, that's on him."

Grant let out a low sigh, and I could tell this wasn't their first attempt to fix their son's academic issues. "He's a hockey player. A good one. But his grades dropped, and he's been benched. Your dad said if anyone could help him get back on track, it's you."

"And we'll pay you," Emily added quickly, her tone almost pleading. "You'll also earn extra credit."

My arms stayed crossed, but now my jaw clenched too. This screamed of one of Dad's pet projects-rescue the failing athlete, save his dream, slap a gold star on his parenting report card.

I was opening my mouth to shut the whole thing down when Emily's voice dropped.

"It's been more than grades," she said softly, almost like she wasn't even talking to me anymore. "Hockey is Jason's dream. He was drafted for the NHL before the transfer. But since his girlfriend broke up with him six months ago, he's been closed off. He barely eats. He doesn't talk to us."

Her voice cracked a little. "He needs help. Not just with school. He needs someone to reach him."

I blinked. That hit different.

I hated hockey and its players with a passion. Most of them were loud, cocky, and about as emotionally available as a brick wall.

But something in Emily's voice made me hesitate. The way she said "he doesn't talk to us"...

"How long's it been?" I asked quietly.

Emily blinked. "Since she left? Six months."

I swallowed hard. Silence hung heavy between us. I looked from her to Grant, to Mom, then back to Emily.

"Fine," I said quietly. "I'll take the job."

And just like that, I unknowingly signed up to meet Jason Monroe-who I'd later call trouble in a hoodie with eyes like winter and a heart buried under snow.

🏒🏒🏒

"I still can't believe you said yes," Lily, my best friend, said dramatically, lying upside down on my bed like she lived here (which she basically did), her legs kicked up against the headboard, and her face halfway buried in a family-size bag of chips.

"I couldn't say no," I muttered as I sat in front of my mirror brushing out my hair. "His mom looked like she was about to cry."

"So? You don't even know the guy."

"I know he's failing."

"Exactly. Which means he's probably hot."

I turned slowly and stared at her. Flat. Blank. "That makes zero sense."

Lily sat up, chip crumbs dusting her leggings, eyes practically glowing with excitement. "Aria. Come on. When has a hockey player not been hot? It's practically part of the sport. The abs are built-in."

I rolled my eyes so hard. "I'll be meeting him and his family at three. Wanna come?"

Her grin stretched ear to ear. "Do I ever say no to watching you suffer? Let's go."

By 2:50, we were bundled up and ready. I kept it chill with a grey sweatshirt tucked into my black sweatpants, a chunky scarf, wool mittens, and sneakers that had seen better days. Comfort was the only thing on my mind.

Lily, being Lily, rocked a soft pink cotton dress with floral leggings and boots. Yes, in this weather. Apparently, she had an immunity to frostbite and an obsession with dressing like it was mid-April in actual spring.

I called out down the stairs, "Mom, I'm off!"

"Be back before dinner!" she yelled back.

When we pulled into the neighbourhood, Lily slowed her car and glanced around with raised brows.

"Uh... are you sure this is the address?"

I checked my phone again. "Yeah. Why?"

She gestured out the window. "Because these houses look like they came straight out of a millionaire's fantasy. Like, HGTV after dark."

She wasn't wrong. The street looked like it had been curated by a luxury architect.

Every house was like its own little museum, perfectly trimmed lawns, fancy gates, and enough glass panels to make any burglar weep with joy.

We parked, stepped out into the cold, and followed the stone walkway up to a modern, two-story glass-panel mansion.

Tall black double doors.

Trees trimmed like it was their full-time job. Everything screamed "money lives here."

"Okay, now I'm nervous," I muttered.

Lily looped her arm through mine and grinned. "Relax. Rich people love you."

I squinted. "What does that even mean?"

Before she could answer, the massive door creaked open.

We stepped inside.

And stopped.

The interior was simply jaw-dropping.

A chandelier the size of my entire bedroom sparkled above from a skylight, and the floors were this smooth, glossy marble that probably cost more than my college tuition.

The scent was warm vanilla mixed with expensive wood polish, like the inside of a fancy hotel lobby. A staircase with glass rails curved upward like we'd walked into a palace.

Minimalist paintings hung perfectly spaced on the walls, and just below the main entry was a sunken living room with designer couches circled around a sleek stone fireplace.

Lily's mouth dropped. "Are we in a house or a Pinterest board?"

Then we heard a soft, muffled moan.

Lily's head whipped toward the sound. "Um... what was that?"

Another moan. Louder this time.

We both exchanged wide-eyed glances, then slowly tiptoed closer to the sunken living room.

And there, on the couch, was a shirtless guy with tattoos snaking down his arms, muscles flexing as he kissed a girl like he didn't care who was watching.

Well, this was his space and he hadn't noticed he had visitors.

My jaw dropped.

Lily let out a breath. "Well... at least we know he's hot."

I couldn't even speak. My brain stopped working.

Footsteps echoed down the hall, and suddenly Emily Monroe appeared from around the corner holding a file folder.

Her eyes zeroed in on the couch.

Her face went full mom mode in 0.2 seconds.

"Jason!"

The guy broke the kiss, jaw tightening as he looked up at his mom.

This was Jason? This was who I was supposed to tutor? Oh no.

I was so screwed.

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.

Aria's POV

"I'm in my room!" I yelled as I slammed the door shut behind me, shrugging off my coat and hanging it on the hook by the door.

The house was eerily quiet, except for Mum's mid-rant in the living room with my older brother, Drew. Once she got into that zone, it felt like everyone else in the house ceased to exist.

I sighed and trudged into my room, letting myself flop face down onto my bed.

Ugh! School was getting worse with each passing day now that we were in our senior year.

But I was looking forward to the winter break, especially Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Rubbing my temples, I reached under my bed, my fingers finding the cool, smooth wood of a small lacquered box.

I pulled it out; it was an old music box, a gift from my grandmother.

Inside, a tiny porcelain ballerina, poised on one leg, began to twirl as the faint melody of "Claire de Lune" tinkled out.

Next to it sat my silver ring, which meant much more than met the eye.

I stared at it until a voice made my heart jolt.

"Is Dad home?" I whispered to myself.

I pushed the box back under the bed, shut it quickly, and dashed out of my room.

My father stood in his usual thick coat with a brown leather principal's bag.

"I saw what you did with the Monroes," I said, crossing my arms.

He grunted without looking at me. "Be grateful, Aria. I was helping you."

"Helping me?" I scoffed. "You should have consulted me first. It's my time, my schedule. You can't just volunteer me for things without asking. I'm not part of your school supplies!"

"Don't raise your voice at me."

I bit down on my lip, trying to suppress my anger, and retreated to the kitchen where Mum was scooping white porridge onto plates.

"Here," I mumbled, grabbing the ladle from her.

Helping with dinner was safer than arguing with Dad.

We were halfway through setting the table when the doorbell rang.

Loud greetings followed.

Curiosity got the better of me, so I peeked out from the kitchen.

An unfamiliar boy stood in the foyer, smiling and laughing with my dad. He was tall, with bright blonde hair and grey eyes... just like mine.

I stepped out as my father waved me closer. "Aria, come help him with his things."

I walked toward him, brushing past my grinning brother, who leaned over to whisper, "Don't drool."

"What?" I hissed back, elbowing him.

Outside, the boy handed me a small bag and smiled. "Name's Kevin."

"Aria," I replied, matching his smile.

He repeated my name, then casually said, "It's a bit early to ask, but there's a party tonight. I'd love for you to come."

My mouth fell open. "Oh, um... I don't do parties."

Kevin raised an eyebrow. "No one 'just' has a social life. They make it."

I blinked, then grinned slowly. "I'll think about it."

He nodded and pulled out his phone. "Can I get your number?"

We exchanged digits, and when he smiled at me again, I felt like maybe my life didn't completely suck. I could make a social life. That would mean attending the party tonight.

He waved as he drove off. I was still standing there, giddy, when I whipped out my phone and dialled Lily.

"Girl," I whispered as soon as she picked up, "you will not believe what just happened."

🏒🏒🏒

I was halfway through smudging eyeliner on my upper lash line... badly, I might add, when I finally gave up, dropped the pencil into the makeup bag, and stared at my reflection.

"I look like I've been crying," I mumbled to myself, dragging my fingers through my hair.

They puffed out in different directions as if they had minds of their own.

I gave up on trying to tame them, too, and just fluffed the ends, hoping the curls would pass for 'effortless'.

I tugged on a dark sweater and paired it with yoga pants and ankle boots. Comfortable and cosy... perfect for the light snow that had begun to fall.

"Aria!" Mum's voice rang from downstairs. "You've got someone here!"

My heart thumped in my chest. Oh my God. Was it Kevin? I had texted him earlier to come pick me up. I checked my breath before rushing to the top of the stairs. But instead of Kevin, I found...

"Lily," I blinked.

Lily stood with one hand on her hip as she stepped into the hallway and looked me up and down.

"You are not wearing that," she said flatly.

I stared at her. "Um... I was going for comfy?"

"You look like you're going to a sleepover, not a party with boys. And possibly... Kevin boys." She dropped her purse and stalked right past me into my room. "We are fixing this."

"I don't..." I started to protest, but she was already flinging my closet doors open.

"No offence, but you dress like a soft pretzel," she muttered, flipping through hangers. "Cute, safe, and too twisted for your good."

She finally pulled out a fitted black top with long mesh sleeves and a pair of high-waisted jeans that had just enough rip to toe the line between 'trying' and 'hot'. She threw it at me and pointed. "Put that on."

I hesitated, holding up the outfit. "I don't know..."

"Trust me," she said, already plugging in my curling wand.

"I can't curl my hair. It never holds," I protested weakly.

"You're lucky to have me," she said with a wink, already sectioning my hair with her skilled fingers. "Besides, you want him to stare, don't you?"

I froze. "That's not why I'm going."

Lily snorted. "Sure. You're going for what, then?"

I rolled my eyes but sat obediently as she curled my hair into waves and dusted a little shimmer across my eyelids.

"You're glowing," she said, satisfied. "Now let's put some gloss on those lips, and... done."

I glanced at the mirror. I looked good... not like a different person, but like a more confident version of myself. A slow smile spread across my face.

Lily grinned at me through the mirror. "You're welcome."

Just then, we both heard a knock downstairs. This time, I was sure it was Kevin.

"Coming!" I called, practically flying down the stairs. And yes... it was him. He leaned casually against the porch rail, his hood down. His hands were tucked into the front pockets of his black jacket, and his eyes met mine the moment I opened the door.

"Hey," he said. "You look... different."

I blinked. "Good different or 'you tried' different?"

His lips twitched. "Good. Definitely good."

I resisted the urge to touch my cheeks... I was blushing, and I knew it. Behind me, Lily let out a low whistle. "Okay, wow. Hello, tall and..."

I cleared my throat, stepped outside, and shut the door behind me. "Kevin, this is Lily. Lily, this is Kevin."

"Nice to meet you," he said.

Lily leaned in close and whispered, "You didn't tell me he was going to pick you up. Anyway, text me if you survive." Then she winked and disappeared back inside.

"Uhm... Aria? I'm gay." Kevin said, and my jaw dropped.