Chapter 155: My Student Keeps Complimenting Me (Send Help)
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"It means—" He pointed at me. "You explained it really passionately, and I was engaged with that passion."
"The passion won’t be on the quiz!"
"That’s honestly a shame."
I pressed my fingers to my forehead. "Psychology isn’t something you can feel your way through. Every concept connects to the next one. Memory is tied to attention, attention to perception, and so on..."
"Oliver."
"What?"
"You’re doing that thing again."
"What thing?"
"The one where you light up." He tilted his head, genuinely interested. "Your entire face changes when you talk about this stuff. Did you know that? It’s kinda cute actually."
I stopped, that comment landed somewhere unexpected — it wasn’t flirty, nor was it leading anywhere, just an honest observation from someone who was genuinely paying attention.
Heat crept into my cheeks, different from what Damien caused, lighter, less complicated. The simple embarrassment of someone receiving a sincere compliment that leaves them momentarily speechless.
"Uh...thanks," I said, reaching into my bag for more materials to distract myself from the awkwardness.
Jeremy glanced at what I pulled out and went slightly pale. "...Oliver."
"These explain it better."
"There are two more books."
"And these notes."
"I’m begging you!"
"And these research papers."
He put his forehead down on the table.
I laughed before I could help it, a genuine laugh, spurred by the sheer absurdity of Jeremy Abernathy, old-money heir, groaning on a library table because he had too many academic resources.
"They’re not that many."
He lifted his head, looking at me like he was trying to process something confusing. "You really think that."
"Yes."
"You genuinely believe that stack is a reasonable amount of material."
"For what we’re covering—"
"You’re terrifyingly smart," he said, not as flattery but as a straightforward observation.
"The way your brain works." He shook his head, some admiration showing on his face. "You actually enjoy studying."
"I do."
"That’s really cool." He said it simply, without any theatrics. "Most people I know see learning as a chore to get through. You treat it like something worth doing."
The heat in my cheeks deepened. It wasn’t the complicated warmth I felt towards Damien. It was just that ordinary discomfort of receiving a compliment I didn’t hear often and didn’t quite know what to do with.
I cleared my throat. "Back to the stages of memory."
"Oliver."
"Jeremy."
"You deserve to hear that more often."
"We have forty minutes of material left."
"Fine." He grabbed his pen. "But I meant it."
"I know. Write this down."
He wrote it down, and I kept my focus on the textbook, not saying anything else about it. We worked through the remaining material steadily, with far fewer interruptions than we had during the first half, which I considered a win.
By the time we packed up, the library had emptied out to just a few serious late-afternoon studiers and one person who had definitely been asleep since before we arrived.
"Good session," I said, shouldering my bag.
Jeremy eyed the notes in his hand with cautious optimism, like he didn’t want to fully commit to hope just yet. "I might actually understand encoding versus retrieval."
"You definitely do. You explained it back to me correctly."
"Don’t tell anyone. It’ll ruin my reputation of being dumb."
We walked outside into the cooler late-afternoon air, and the campus felt quieter now with the last classes winding down. I instinctively turned towards the bus stop.
"Want a ride home?" Jeremy offered casually as we stepped outside, gesturing toward his waiting Mercedes. "It’s no trouble, and it’ll save you the bus fare."
I hesitated, the wariness of the elite world creeping back in despite his friendly vibes. Getting closer to any of them felt risky, like stepping into a current that might pull me under. But the idea of saving moneyand the genuine helpfulness in his offer, tipped the scales.
I halted. "You really don’t have to—"
"It’s on my way."
"Is it?"
He thought for a moment. "...Probably. In a general direction kind of way."
I looked at him. He looked back at me with the calm sincerity of someone who’s made a decision and is just waiting for you to agree.
The bus fare was minimal, but those small costs add up. Since Damien had offered to help with hospital bills, I’d been considering money differently, not just focusing on getting through each week, but thinking about saving and building something. Every little bit I didn’t spend was one step closer to something else.
"...Alright," I said finally. "But only because of the bus fare."
Jeremy pumped his fist. "Victory."
"You celebrate everything."
"Life rewards enthusiasm."
When you’re rich as fuck, I guess.
I slid back into the Mercedes, my backpack at my feet, and watched campus fade away as he drove off.
Jeremy wasn’t who I’d expected, not at all what his clothes or car suggested, or the party scene where I’d first met him. He was genuinely kind in a way that didn’t seem to need anything back. He was funny without trying and approached academic failure with a comedic earnestness that made it hard to stay frustrated.
But even as I sat there, feeling the warmth of a good session and a conversation I’d enjoyed more than I anticipated, there was still this nagging thought about Damien...that look he had the night I mentioned tutoring Jeremy, that small, controlled shift in his eyes that he’d covered up before I could fully process it.
I didn’t know what that meant.
I just knew it meant something.
"Same time Thursday?" Jeremy asked.
"If you actually study before then."
"I’ll check out the Chapter summaries."
"That’s not the same as studying—"
"I’ll read half."
"Jeremy."
"The first half."
"The whole Chapter."
He sighed. "The whole Chapter," he agreed, sounding as though he was giving in to something he wasn’t thrilled about. "The whole Chapter and not one page more."
I gave him a sideways glance. "And the three practice questions at the end."
"You’re ruthless."
"You were the one who hired me."
"I did," he replied, pulling to a stop near Preston Hall. "And it’s the best academic choice I’ve ever made, which isn’t saying much, but still."
I stepped out with my backpack and turned back. "Thursday."
"Thursday," he said with a small salute. "See you then, Professor!"
I watched him drive away, then headed towards the building.
That lingering guilt was still there, small and shapeless.
Not because I had done anything wrong. Jeremy was a client. A decent one, too. The extra income was nice, rationally, everything made sense.
But the thought of bringing up the car ride with Damien settled in my chest, feeling more complicated than I was ready to confront.
Probably something I should think about later.