food for himself and one for me.
“Hi,” I say coolly, when I’m within earshot.
“Hi,” he says, equally coolly. “I got you some food. It’s chicken fajitas with a side of guacamole, and I thought it’s something you might like. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to eat it, all right?”
“No. This is great,” I insist. “I love Mexican food. Thanks.”
After taking a seat, I lift my plastic fork and throw caution to the wind. “So what do you want to ask me?”
He rakes his fingers through his hair. “It’s sort of a favor.”
“What favor?” I probe.
After a hesitant pause, he says, “I’d like you to be my tutor.”
I sit in a stunned stupor. “Your tutor?” I say, trying hard to conceal my disappointment.
“Yes,” he affirms and ventures, “I’m struggling with my ESL class. I’ve failed it twice already and I’m retaking it for the third time this semester.”
“ESL, um...what’s that?”
“English as a second language. It’s a prerequisite course for all international students at the U,” he explains. “If you don’t want to do it, I’ll understand,” he quickly adds.
“No, it’s not that,” I protest. “I’m just a bit surprised. You speak very good English.”
“Well, the ESL class focuses on grammar, sentence structure, that sort of thing…and I’m not very good at all that.”
I make a non-committal hmmm sound, fork a mouthful of guacamole, and allow my eyes to dwell on him while I mull it over.
Admittedly, I’m a bit crushed that he only wants me to tutor him. And since I secretly admire Mister Forbidden Fruit, I really shouldn’t be spending more time with him.
On the flip side, we’re strictly friends and he’s such a nice guy that I can’t possibly say no. Can I?
Mika watches me intently.
“What if I said no?” I ask with a delicate lift of my brow.
“No?” he says with a pained expression.
“Okay, I’ll do it.” Sheesh, I cave in way too easily.
A smile spreads across his face. “Really?”
“Yes. But I’ll have you know up front that I have absolutely zero teaching experience.”
He brushes off my concerns. “If I didn’t think you’d be a good teacher, I wouldn’t have asked you.”
“I appreciate your vote of confidence, but…” I falter and bite my lip. “I’ll figure something out.”
And so we arrange to meet every Saturday at the university library for some ‘tutoring’ sessions.
Over our lunch, we talk about random things and I learn that Mika is a US citizen.
While vacationing in New York, his mom went into labor six weeks prematurely; and thus, he has dual citizenship.
I bite into my fajita. “Dual citizenship? Ahh, now it all makes sense to me. I’ve always wondered if you were working here illegally.”
“If they deport me back to Belgium, there’ll be one less person to work the potato farms,” he says in all seriousness.
I give a little laugh. “Do you want to hear a potato joke?”
“Of course, how can I refuse?”
“It’s pretty dumb, so don’t say I didn’t warn you.” I bite back a smile. “Okay, here goes. Why did the potato go to the beach?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “Why?”
“It wanted to get baked!”
He rewards me with a smile. “I’ve got one too. What does a British potato say when it thinks something is fantastic?”
I take a stab at it. “It’s smashing?”
“Close. It’s mashing,” he corrects and we crack up.
Spuds rule! Although I’d never tell a potato joke to a native Idahoan for fear of being potato jacked.
Twenty-five minutes go by really fast. When we notice the time, we scarf down the rest of our lard laden Mexican meals and scurry into a lift that obediently pings open.
Perfect timing.
It zips up to the third floor, the door slides open and we step out. I’m just about to round a corner when Mika taps me lightly on my arm.
At once, I feel goose bumps rise.
He gazes steadily into my eyes. “I really appreciate you doing this for me. I forgot to say thank you.”
“Sure, no problem,” I mutter.
He turns and starts for his cubicle. Abruptly, he stops and does a double take. “You look a little different today.”
I toss my hair this way and that way, as if I were starring in a Garnier Fructis commercial.
Mika continues staring at me, and a slow grin breaks over his face. “You’re wearing your hair down. It looks…nice.”
My cheeks feel hot and I’m positive they’re crimson.
I tuck a stray hair behind my ear and stare after Mika as he strides off.
Ahh. I’m floating on cloud nine.
A gigantic, poufy cloud shaped like