The Prince's Tutor

Harry lingered around the school campus for quite a bit, exploring the new area. He fiddled around in the empty hallways, suddenly bothered by the ghostlike silence that rang through the school. Where were all the people? After peeking in a couple of classrooms, he decided to walk around the garden area.

As soon as he set foot outside, he heard a large noise, followed by fanatic screaming.

Every student, and including some professors, were outside waiting for him, screaming his name frantically. Harry faltered for a moment, surprised by all the commotion that awaited him.

He heard the women (and some men) scream marriage proposals at him; others suddenly couldn’t remember how to speak anymore, and instead of saying anything, continued to scream.

Harry quickly glanced at the flashing crowd and saw that a new crowd had formed behind them. How the hell did everyone find out he transferred so fast?

Panic stricken for a moment, he turned around and headed back inside the school- silence was definitely better than that headache outside.

He was well aware that he was close now close to an hour late for his lesson. He imagined that girl sitting there, growing angrier by the minute.

His intention was this:

He would continue making her life difficult, she would decide that she hated him and couldn’t tutor someone as impossible as him, and then as easy as that she’d be gone from his life. After he rids himself of her, he would tell his father that his little plan failed and that Harry would be dropping out of Cambridge.

Entering the library now, he glanced around until he saw her. She was sat behind a sturdy round desk, tapping her pen impatiently. Her gaze was fixed on the clock that hung above the nearest shelf.

As he walked up to her, he started to analyze her features. It was the first time he really had a good look at her. She wasn’t his type, but there was something striking about her.

She was small statured and quite flat chested- not exactly appealing, but there was something in her face that made up for her lack of body shape- her eyes.

They were a brilliant emerald green that faded into teal at the edges. And it wasn’t just the color- the shape, the size of them, the fact that all her emotions were clearly written all over her gaze, is what intoxicated him.

She noticed him approaching her, and rose from her chair. The glare she threw him only amused the prince even further.

After studying her carefully, he entertained himself by analyzing her body language. He became more and more satisfied after noticing each one.
Enraged, deadly, glare….
Deep, unsteady, breathing….
Tightly clenched jaw…..

Yeah, she’d be gone from Harry’s life in no time.

He decided to further push on the subject.

“You’re thicker than I thought. You actually waited this entire time? God, you’re stupid,” he said, erupting in laughter.

Callie, enraged, began to edge closer to him. Her delicate hands were balled into fists as she slowly closed the space between them.

“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? Don’t you have any boundaries? You made me wait an hour for you, and now you show up laughing at me? Who the hell do you think you are, making people wait on you like that?”

The Prince’s smirk spread further as he cocked his head and slyly replied:

“Who asked you to wait for me? I never agreed to come in the first place.”

Callie slowly exhaled, keeping herself in control. She raised her eyes to match his, growing more fearless by the second. She had an overwhelming aura of nobility that demanded attention, making Harry hesitate for a moment.

“What is your problem with me?” she said darkly, glaring up at him. “Have I offended you somehow?’

For a couple of seconds Harry didn’t reply. His eyes playfully observed her face that was only a foot’s length away from his own.

His gaze trickled down from her brightly animated eyes to her flushed, rosy cheeks. It then proceeded to dance around her small, childlike nose and finally fell upon her soft, precisely sculpted lips.

After carefully observing her, his gaze returned to her eyes.

“You want to know my problem? It’s you.”

Taken aback, Callie’s brow furrowed as she continued to glare at him, challenging him.

“Stay out of my life,” he warned, his cerulean eyes turned cold once again.

After letting those words take effect, he then continued:

“I don’t know what little plan you and my father have, but it’s not going to work. You can’t control me or what I do, got that?”

As he spoke, the Prince slowly edged closer to Callie, pinning her between him and the bookshelf behind her. He placed his hand on the wooden shelves, knowing very well that the closeness made her feel extremely uneasy.

He could feel the warmth radiating off her body as he stood there, bent over directly above her head. He didn’t remove his gaze from her; he wanted to see if her bravery was still as apparent in this intimate position.

He could tell she was intimidated now; she refused to look at him. She slowly inched herself closer to the bookshelf, attempting to distance herself from him.

Her reaction amused him. He could almost hear her heart rate increase, and he was sure it’d be audible in the silent library.

After allowing the blood to circulate to her lungs for some moments, she regained her breath and mustered up the courage to look up at his face.

“Control you? No one is trying to control you. Your father only wants the best for you, and you’re being extremely rude about it. I guess everything they say about you is true after all.”

All amusement had left him now, instead he turned extremely angry with her; she wasn’t in any position to comment about his life, and he absolutely hated when people thought they knew something about him because of what they heard or read.

“You think you know something about my life, do you?” he said.

He dropped his hand from the bookshelf and stepped away from her. He could tell his face was flushed now; he wasn’t very good at controlling his temper. He looked away from her for a while, looking at her face only made him angrier.

After regaining composure, he glanced back. She now too, had gained control of her emotions.

“Look, Carly is it?” he said, completely apathetic of the fact that he had called her by the wrong name.

“It’s Callie.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever my father’s paying you, I’ll pay you double. Just do me a favor and drop this whole tutoring act.”

Callie reached out her hand and slapped the Prince briskly across his face. It was still dead silent in the library, so the sound rang against the shelves for a couple seconds after the impact.

Whatever reaction Harry was expecting out of her- that definitely wasn’t it.

“What the bloody hell? Who the hell do you-” he started, clearly outraged, when Callie cut him off.

“You foul, loathsome, prick,” her voice was gravely dangerous.

Harry stood speechless, appalled by her actions.

“You think that just because you were born into royalty, born rich- you can just treat everyone else like they aren’t worth anything?”

Her hands were shaking now; she had officially lost all self control.

“Now you listen to me. I am not someone who can be bought. I don’t care how much money you have, I’m not going to sit here and let you insult me like this.”

Callie couldn’t stand being next to him anymore- everything about him disgusted her now. She glanced at his perplexed expression- she could tell she was the first person in a long time to talk to him like that.

She pushed against him as she began to walk away, but after a couple of steps turned to look at him again.

“Oh and you don’t get respect by bribing someone with money- you earn it. I suggest you remember that for future references,” she spat venomously, and turned on her heel and walked out.

Harry stood a couple of moments after she left-partly because of confusion and partly because of shock. He hadn’t been scolded like that in years, and the last time anyone laid a hand on him, it was his own mother.

Nostalgia seeped its way into the young prince, followed by a great feeling of sadness.

All of a sudden he remembered being a child again. He heard his mother’s voice echo in his head- playfully scolding him, embracing him, reassuring him.

He leaned his head against the sturdy bookshelves, looking up at the decorative ceiling.

Closing his eyes, the youngest prince heavily sighed. He felt exhausted from his own behavior, his own attitude. There was something that didn’t leave him alone- what that girl had said.

Her face kept appearing in his head, haunting his restless mind. She was right, he had gone too far. When did he lose a sense of his own boundaries, his morals?

The bookshelf underneath him felt as if it was holding together his very existence now, if it weren’t for the sturdy oak he would have toppled over.

He felt his phone vibrate suddenly and he reached into his jean pocket, retrieving the device.

“1 New Text Message”

He felt his heart skip a beat when he saw who it was from:

Chelsy says:

Hey, we need to talk…

“Shit,” he muttered, not believing what bad luck he’d had all day.

Slowly, the young Prince rose from his spot and walked out of the Cambridge Library.