Yes,but no.

Hello!

If you couldn’t tell this is my first time posting a story on here.

Posted also On: Wattpad (First to receive new Updates)

This story was written for those who want something casual and easy-going to read to pass time.

‼️One rule‼️NO hate comments.

Just wanted to Add:

This story is going to be an extreme slow burn.

Enjoy reading!!!

𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐑

I needed to pass this class.

Actually, forget that. I desperately needed to pass this class.

It was only the first quarter, and my grade had already plummeted. It was dropping faster than I could blink.

I ran up the stairs without even thinking twice about taking the old-ass elevator that took centuries to arrive. Because that was the thing about prestigious universities—the longer their history and reputation, the older everything seemed to be.

By the time I reached the third floor, I was completely out of breath. I hurried toward the metal door and stopped in front of it, taking one last breath before everything came crumbling down on me.

Taped perfectly to the door was a clean, handwritten note.

Office hours canceled today due to personal reasons.

Fuck. My. Life.

I let out the longest, most frustrated groan I’d been holding back since the quarter started.

“That is what fucking emails are for!” I yelled at the door, as if screaming at it would somehow summon the professor in front of me.

I ran a hand through my already messy hair.

Today was not my day.

My alarm hadn’t gone off, so I’d woken up late. I put on the first thing I saw in my closet and practically ran here. And now, after rushing across campus, I had nothing to show for it.

I was seriously debating jumping off the balcony on this floor to end my misery.

Or, even worse, I could suck it up and type out a very angry email to the TA.

“You’re fucking joking.”

A very masculine voice suddenly came from behind me.

I turned around and found another poor student who had apparently walked all the way across campus just to suffer the same fate as me.

And, to my dismay, I knew exactly who it was.

Jonathan Astor.

He stood there looking exactly how every girl on campus described him.

Absolutely gorgeous.

He practically knocked the last breath of air out of me. He looked like he’d been sculpted by the gods. Which, by the way, wasn’t even much of an exaggeration. He’d actually been dubbed the Apollo of the school.

Jonathan ran one hand through his soft, dirty-blond hair, and only then did I notice the cast covering his left leg. He was leaning heavily on a single crutch.

I moved to the side, still a little too distracted by his appearance.

Seriously, I couldn’t believe I was falling victim to a hot guy.

Without thinking, I glanced back at him.

He had already turned toward me. His warm hazel eyes bore into mine.

“I’m going to guess you’re failing as well,” he pointed out rather bluntly.

Wow. Okay.

I’d never personally interacted with the guy before, but he certainly wasn’t living up to the sweet-guy reputation I’d heard about.

“Horribly,” I confirmed sarcastically.

I shifted my bag off my shoulder and placed it on the stone bench outside the office door.

I eyed him again.

He actually looked like complete shit.

Heavy bags hung beneath his eyes, and there was a deep frown etched across his face. Not to mention the cast and crutch.

If my roommate, Bethany, saw him like this, she wouldn’t miss a beat before submitting it to the school paper.

As the lead writer for the sports section, she was practically responsible for keeping up with the school’s athletic news. And Jonathan Astor was almost always on the cover.

This?

This would be the perfect headline.

Jonathan Astor’s Great Fall.

“A bad injury you have there,” I said, nodding toward his leg.

If I could get the gist of what happened, Bethany would definitely want to know.

Jonathan shifted uncomfortably onto his good leg, steadying himself with his crutch. He turned to fully face me now, which made me feel slightly nervous.

Not enough for it to show, though.

“I think...” He paused, his expression unusually serious. “I might actually kill myself.”

I couldn’t believe I was witnessing the school’s messiah fall apart.

I genuinely felt bad for the guy.

And not because I thought he was hot.

“I was actually about to jump off myself,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

That earned me a slight smirk and my idiotic heart skipped a beat.

I hadn’t actually expected my lame comment to make him smile.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” he suddenly said.

Because we hadn’t.

So I settled for the obvious.

“We probably don’t have the same lecture together,” I told him. “I’m Eleanor.”

Which was a complete lie.

We had the same lecture on the same day. He just didn’t seem to notice people outside of his circle.

“Eleanor,” he repeated, as if testing the name out. “I’m Jonathan, by the way.”

I know, I thought to myself as I turned away from him and started searching for my headphones in my bag.

“What grade do you have in the class?” he asked.

“I have a B,” I casually confirmed.

“Fuck. And here I thought we were both bordering on a low C, if not an F,” he said, almost disappointed.

Which was true.

I wasn’t actually failing at all. But by my personal standards?

I was failing.

“One reason,” I told him, turning back to look at his pretty face.

To my surprise, he actually seemed interested in what I had to say.

“Go on,” he said, his voice laced with curiosity.

“Pre-med.”

He let out a low whistle. “Well, aren’t you on the road to success.”

“Kinda,” I said, turning around again to rummage through my bag for my stupid headphones.

Honestly, the letter grade B wouldn’t have bothered me as much if my program didn’t practically demand straight A’s. If I could maintain that, I’d qualify for a scholarship that would cover half of medical school.

It was an incredible opportunity.

And it was money I desperately needed and couldn’t get anywhere else.

I finally yanked my headphones out of my bag, ready to head straight to the library since I was already on campus.

I didn’t know how long I had been standing there, lost in thought. Long enough that I was certain Jonathan had already left.

Guys like him didn’t stick around for one measly conversation about school with girls like me.

Especially when he had a girlfriend waiting for him.

And seriously, that girl was beautiful.

She had extremely dark red hair and light green eyes. She might as well have been a real-life Disney princess.

“...Actually, can I ask you a favor?”

I suddenly heard his voice right above me again.

It almost made me jump.

I turned around and was met with his chest instead. He was wearing school merch—a sweatshirt, to be exact.

I looked back up at him.

Being this close, I could really tell he was going through it. His usually glowing face looked dull, his eyes tired and his expression worn down.

Even then, he was still ridiculously attractive.

I opened my mouth to answer, but before a single word could leave my lips, he beat me to it.

“Tutor me.”

“What?” I said, completely caught off guard by the request.

“Tutor me,” he repeated, this time with absolute certainty.

I grabbed my bag, swung it back over my shoulder, and began untangling my headphones.

“Sorry, but, um... I can’t do that.”

I rejected him and immediately moved past him toward the elevator.

I felt slightly bad for saying no. The guy already looked like shit. But I seriously couldn’t afford any distractions.

“Why can’t you?” he asked, quickly catching up to me.

And you’d think he’d move slower with that bad leg of his.

“One, because my grade dropped for a reason, so obviously I don’t know much about the subject. And two...”

I trailed off.

Two, because you’re Jonathan Astor.

If I was caught anywhere near him, I’d be the next topic in everyone’s group chats.

I’d be torn apart from my physical appearance down to my personality. And trust me, most people in my major already hated me.

“And two?” he asked, confused.

“Two, I’m busy. I seriously can’t help you.”

I tried to walk faster.

When I finally reached the elevator, I repeatedly pressed the button for the first floor.

“Hear me out,” he said, stepping in front of the elevator doors. “Everyone in that class speaks like they have a dictionary up their ass, and you’re the first person I can understand without having the urge to stab my ears out.”

He wasn’t wrong.

That class was filled with wannabe Shakespeares.

Just the thought of attending the discussions made me want to choke myself.

“Look, I just need to get at least a C to pass the class and keep my position on the football team,” he desperately explained.

Without much thought for my words, I said, “With that leg?”

I pointed down at the cast covering his foot.

“You won’t be going anywhere near that field anytime soon.”

He physically cringed at my comment.

“Fine, you’re right. But I can’t just drop this class. It’s part of my requirements to graduate.”

“Jonathan,” I called as the elevator doors finally opened. “Goodbye.”

I walked inside and put my headphones on.

Just as I thought I’d escaped the situation and the doors began to close, he jammed his crutch between them.

“I’ll pay you. In fact, I’ll do anything,” he said as he maneuvered himself into the elevator. “As long as it’s within my range, of course.”

I let out a long sigh.

“Go to the Student Success Center. They’d love to help you,” I told him.

Which was true.

The girls there would probably love to teach him anything he asked for.

Just when I thought he’d finally dropped the subject and the elevator was about to reach the first floor, Jonathan spoke again.

“Okay, then can you at least think about it?”

“I’ll think about it,” I told him as the doors opened.

“Tell you my answer next time.”

I walked out of the elevator.

Like hell I was going to tell him my response to anything.

By tonight, he wouldn’t even remember that he’d asked me to be his tutor.

Let alone remember my name.

My shift at the diner by Newport Beach started around five in the afternoon.

The place had an old-school aesthetic that made it feel like something straight out of a vintage TV show. Which, unfortunately, meant we had to wear those classic diner-girl uniforms you’d see on television. At first, I found the outfits awkward but eventually, I got used to them.

The owner was a really sweet older woman who was surprisingly lenient with us girls, especially since most of us were college students trying to balance work and school.

“Will the director of your program really be that mad if you get a B?” my coworker, Tiffany, asked as we wiped down the counters.

“Well, I might get a threat to fix my grade before the quarter ends. Otherwise, the money might go to someone else,” I said, organizing the little packets of creamer and sugar.

“But they know you,” Tiffany said as she set the wet towel aside. “They know how hard you’ve been working to get that money.”

“They don’t care, Tif,” I said, turning to look at her. “I’m not the only one working just as hard to get it.”

Before Tiffany could respond, the bell above the door rang, signaling that a customer had walked in.

Tiffany frowned before walking off to greet them.

I reached for the menus.

When I turned around, I stopped dead in my tracks.

That familiar dirty-blond hair was the first thing I noticed.

Jonathan stared right at me.

He was with another guy I immediately recognized as Dylan Anderson, another member of the football team.

Except Dylan was the complete opposite of Jonathan. Black hair. Clear grey blue eyes. And, not to mention, a total player.

It was too late to pretend I hadn’t seen Jonathan. We stared at each other, both knowing exactly who the other was.

So much for my assumption that he’d forget about me by the end of the day.

Dylan leaned down toward Tiffany and whispered something into her ear. She immediately seemed nervous, fiddling with the edge of her skirt. Then she turned to look at me. I gave her a questioning look.

What?

Dylan flashed me his infamous smile when he noticed me looking their way. I ignored him and looked back at Jonathan. It was getting harder to ignore the intense look he was giving me.

They were definitely plotting something.

Tiffany speed-walked away from them and back toward me.

“Um, Eleanor...” she whispered. “You never told me you knew Jonathan and Dylan.”

“Because I don’t,” I told her.

She didn’t seem convinced.

“Well, they asked for you to serve them.”

Oh?

“Don’t worry, Tif. I’ll handle it,” I told her.

Now I was just pissed off. Who did they think they were?

I debated whether I should make a scene and risk my job or just attend to them like normal.

In the end, my paycheck won.

I grabbed the two menus from the side of the counter and walked over to their table. They looked ridiculous sitting in those tiny-ass chairs.

They definitely weren’t the average size for college guys, but damn, they looked uncomfortable squeezed around that tiny table.

“Here are your menus,” I said, placing them in front of them. “I’ll be your server for the afternoon—”

“Can I ask you something?” Dylan cut me off. “My friend John here needs des—”

He was abruptly cut off by a kick under the table.

I raised an eyebrow at Jonathan, who was now smiling at me like he hadn’t just assaulted his friend.

“Don’t listen to him,” Jonathan said, attempting to excuse his friend’s behavior. “He just doesn’t know when to keep his big mouth closed.”

“Right,” I said.

But, most importantly, he hadn’t forgotten my name.

If I weren’t so irritated at the moment, I probably would’ve started squealing in the break room after this.

“Anyway, fancy seeing you here, Eleanor,” Jonathan said, giving me that smile every girl on campus seemed to fall for.

Stop it, Eleanor.

This guy has a girlfriend.

“Right,” I said. “I’ll come back in five to take your order.”

I walked back toward the counter, where Tiffany was watching the entire interaction like a hawk.

“Oh my God. What was that?” she asked me.

I shifted nervously in my shoes.

“I kinda forgot to mention that I also ran into Jonathan this morning,” I confessed.

“What?!” she yelled.

“Shhh!” I quickly told her, glancing back at Jonathan and Dylan.

They were both staring at us with confused expressions.

“It was very brief and a very dry conversation,” I explained.

“Well, clearly not that dry if they’re asking for you,” she said.

“It wasn’t anything big,” I told her. “He just wants tutoring. Plus, I can’t be caught dead with that guy.”

She gawked at me as I shrugged off the interaction.

“Eleanor,” she said, practically in disbelief, “the football player—the walking god of our school—wantsyouto tutor him.”

“Tiff, he has a girlfriend, remember?” I reminded her. “And just because he’s hot doesn’t mean I should tutor him.”

“You think I’m hot?”

I snapped my head around. And there he was. Jonathan stood behind me with a smug smirk on his face.

I was actually about to quit my job.

From the corner of my eye, I could see Tiffany desperately trying to hold back a laugh.

“I... um...”

I couldn’t find a single word to excuse myself.

“How much of that did you hear?” I finally asked.

“Just the part where you called me hot,” he said with an annoyingly smug look. “Oh, and the part where you seem to be rather embarrassed to be seen with me.”

I gave him a tight smile.

This was it.

I’d gone and set my own pride on fire.

“I’m going to go and give you guys some space,” Tiffany said, giving me a wink before disappearing into the kitchen.

I was left standing there like a complete idiot.

I had embarrassed myself completely.

“I’m actually failing to see why you’re embarrassed of me,” he suddenly called me out.

“I’m not embarrassed,” I corrected him. “I just don’t want unnecessary attention.”

“So...” He tilted his head slightly. “In other words, it’s not that you can’t tutor me. You just can’t be seen with me.”

“No,” I said quickly. “I don’t want to. Like, at all.”

I looked over at where he’d originally been sitting.

Dylan was still there, watching us like we were a sports show on TV.