Read Online Addicted for Now by Krista Ritchie, Becca Ritchie - Free Book Online Page B

classes in Princeton too. I’m already
behind as it is.
    Which is why a tutor sits beside me, though he’s not doing
much “tutoring.”
    For the past thirty minutes, I watched him browse Rich Kids
of Instagram, a site that I boycott and find generally revolting. I nudge him
to help me twice, and he points to my book. “Do another problem,” he says
without peeling his eyes from his phone.
    I miss the days where Connor Cobalt gave me a hundred-and-ten
percent of his tutoring attention, even going as far as making me flashcards.
    Sebastian Ross may just be the worst tutor alive.
    He invades my personal space for a second, and I think he
may actually be showing me how to do a Statistics problem.
    He sticks his phone beneath my nose. “Whose watch do you
like better?” He extends his wrist and holds it by the screen, the band gold
and the gadgetry so complex that my eyes hurt. The one in the picture is no
simpler. A teenager stands outside his gray-bricked mansion, wrists displayed
like he’s preparing to box.
    “Neither.”
    “Amuse me.”
    Amuse him? How
about amuse me! I’m the one who
should be entertained by numbers and words. Connor would know how to make
studying fun.
    I try not to glare. “I like my watch.”
    Sebastian’s one eyebrow
arches, so smarmy and elitist that I have to give him props for mastering the
technique. He snatches my wrist to inspect the device. He huffs. “You’re
wearing a toy.” He flicks the plastic cap, nearly causing the hands of the
clock to stop.
    “Hey,” I say, retracting my arm and clutching my wrist to my
chest. “That’s Wolverine, you know.” The yellow and blue band buckles on my
bony wrist, and the X-Men hero is printed inside the watch-face.
    He looks mildly interested now. “Is it a collectible?”
    “…maybe.”
    He restrains the urge to roll his eyes. “Where’d you get
it?” he asks. “The kid’s section in Target?”
    My cheeks redden even though they shouldn’t. “No,” I retort.
“Lo won it from a vending machine. You know, the ones where you put a quarter
in and it drops out the little egg thing.” We had a seventy-five percent chance
to get either Superman or Batman, so when Wolverine popped out, it seemed like
fate. We were easily entertained.
    Sebastian grimaces. He has a pretty good stink-face too. “You
touched those things?” He returns to his phone, scrolling. “Sometimes I wonder
how you’re related to your sister.”
    Sometimes I wonder why
she’s friends with you.
    I would exchange Sebastian for a better model, but not when
Rose asked him, her best friend, to
tutor me. Before Connor came into the picture, Sebastian escorted Rose to every
social function, her go-to arm candy.
    He leans back on the couch, wearing khaki slacks, a blazer
and glasses with wide frames and thin rims. I have a suspicion that he’s
someone who only wears glasses for show, not function. And his honey blond hair
is slicked neatly and parted on the side, groomed and styled.
    Even if he didn’t take the time to look good, Sebastian is
the kind of person that was born to be pretty.
    Normally I’d be tempted. But I have Loren Hale.
    And Sebastian is gay. So there’s that.
    When he snorts out loud, I catch a glimpse of his cell.
There’s a picture of a guy sitting in a hot tub on a million-dollar yacht,
surrounded by expensive bottles of champagne.
    Now I roll my eyes. I really want to grab the phone from his
hand and chuck it across the room. “Have you even taken Stat?” I ask.
    “Stats.”
    “What?”
    “It’s called Stastic sssss ,”
he says, hissing the “s” for further emphasis. “Not Statistic.” His gaze stays
fixated on that stupid phone.  
    “Have you taken Stat sssss ,”
I hiss back.
    “Yes, it’s an under level requirement for business majors at
Princeton,” he says sharply. “Obviously Penn has different standards.”
    Being insulted by my tutor isn’t a new thing for me, but I’m
not taking his jabs easily. Maybe
because