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**PART FIFTEEN**

Playing it cool was a given.

The real question was, should I mention that Bridget and I knew each other? That would be the understatement of a lifetime.

It would be easier to sway Annabelle back to my side if I could tastefully cast my former rival in a more negative light, but it also ran the risk of my name being mentioned to Bridget when Annabelle let her know her services actually weren’t needed. If I omitted any relationship with Bridget, however, then how would I make myself sound better in comparison? Except, of course, for the fact that I was Annabelle’s top choice the first time around.

I was still in the midst of our phone call, so I had to make a snap decision. The former made for easier conversation, as long as I kept reminding myself that less is more. Keep it light, keep it friendly; there was no need to get into the old rivalry. “Hmm, Bridget?” I said, “I didn’t know she had any tutoring experience.” Like I was one to talk. But this was about making Annabelle doubt Bridget, so my nonexistent teaching history mattered less than *her* nonexistent teaching history.

“Oh, you know her?” Annabelle asked, “And yeah, she taught a few younger students before university. I’m obviously her first prodigy, but I don’t think she minds.”

“Humble,” I teased. The girl was intelligent, I’ll give her that, but she was no prodigy. Otherwise she would have been running circles around me last Saturday.

The bit about Bridget, however, caught me off guard. She tutored back in high college? That was news to me. Either it was a lie, meant to impress Annabelle and/or Annabelle’s parents; or it was the truth, which would explain why I never had any luck finding students a few years ago. If Bridget had our county locked down through word of mouth or other means, no wonder my attempts at advertising never yielded any results.

Once again, I was overthinking things. It didn’t matter whether or not Bridget ran a tutoring company back then and kept it to herself. The more crucial focus was keeping her from making bank from a job that should still be mine. I mean, I did still want to teach Annabelle anyway. That’s why I made the call in the first place before learning this critical detail. But stealing it back from Bridget would be a pretty delicious cherry on top.

Going on, I aimed for the high road for the time being. I wasn’t above badmouthing Bridget, but I also wasn’t naturally the catty type. If I could convince Annabelle through other means, that would be fine. The end result is all that really mattered: Me, tutoring Annabelle. Bridget, losing what was supposed to be a sweet gig. “Oh, I didn’t know that,” I said, sticking with whatever truths I could, “But it would be a shame if you had to start from scratch with someone else.”

“What do you mean?” Annabelle asked, “You can send her our stuff, right?”

Oh. Right. I did say that, didn’t I? “Umm, maybe. I don’t know if I have contact info.”

“That’s okay! I can give you her Email.”

“Well, umm. I guess that could work?”

This was quickly turning into my worst nightmare. It was one thing to hear that Bridget was getting a lucrative job that I foolishly (and temporarily) gave up. But if she learned that I had it first? I could already imagine how smug she would be about it, even in Email form. Not to mention how much leg work I already did, only to hand over everything for her own use.

“Awesome. Thanks, Mere!”

Just a few minutes ago, the nickname would have reminded me of the list of cons I made before giving Annabelle a call. But I barely flinched at it when faced with the crucial fight or flight decision before me. Quietly relent, because there was no easy way to get the job back? Or push for what I wanted? Normally I would have gone with the former, as I’m terrible at confrontation and/or directness, but there was just too much riding on this.

Annabelle was passionate about mathematics; passionate enough to spend her precious time working on problems and texting me about them instead of doing whatever her other rich friends were doing. The money was really, really good. And, though it was difficult to understand why, and impossible to explain to even myself, I felt drawn to the girl.

And, of course, fuck Bridget.

“Wait!” I blurted out. Lowering my voice from the somewhat shrill exclamation, I was once again grateful she couldn’t see my flushed cheeks. “Sorry. Umm, please wait.”

Totally calm on her end, Annabelle replied, “Yes, Mere?”

Taking a deep breath, I just said it. While the redhead on the other line seemed pretty socially adept, dropping hints and subtly sowing doubt over the phone wasn’t as easy as it would have been in person. “Honestly, Annabelle, I really don’t like Bridget. I think I should be your tutor; not her.” I moved the phone away from my lips to let out a nervous exhale following the honesty that was normally too intimidating for me to say out loud, and nervously waited for her reply.

A few agonizing seconds of silence passed.

Biting my lip, I listened for *anything*. A quiet breath, a creak of furniture, something in the background. Was she still there? It would be just my luck if I found the courage to say what I needed to say, only for the connection to drop at the perfect wrong time. I didn’t mind if Annabelle needed a minute to think about her response, but it would at least be nice to know that she heard.

“Annabelle?” I hesitantly asked.

After a moment, she finally said, “I’ll call you in a few hours, okay?”

And, just like that, she hung up.

——————-
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