Because I’d never had a tutor before, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Add in the tutor is WAY cute and I was even more clueless. I guess I imagined we’d work and then take a break and get to know each other, maybe even flirt a little, but the day was nothing like that, other than the first part.

We worked. I went to the bathroom. We worked some more. Yet another bathroom break. Repeat for hours.

Aside from going over my paper—he wanted me to make it more chronological as opposed to jumping back and forth in time—we spent most of the day on geometry, catching up on homework. There was no way I could get through everything, because he made me do every single problem by myself. Whenever I asked for help, he’d go through my textbook and find the section that explained the concept. He’d have me read through it and if I didn’t understand, he’d try to break it down for me. When that still didn’t help—which was most of the time—he’d examine the homework question that had me stumped and would then create an original question that was similar. After that, he’d patiently show me how to answer that sample question step by step. Only then would I go back to the original homework problem, which I had to do myself. All of which was seriously frustrating because it made the whole process slower while simultaneously increasing the amount of work I had to do.

My aunt came home just as Bryce was about to leave and they ended up speaking in the doorway. I have no idea what they discussed, but their voices sounded cheery; as for me, I hadn’t moved from my chair and my forehead was on the table. Right before my aunt had walked in the door, and even after all I’d done, Bryce had given me additional homework, or rather, homework I was already supposed to have completed. In addition to reworking my paper, he wanted me to read chapters in both my biology and history textbooks. Though he’d smiled when he’d said it—as though his request were entirely reasonable after hours of brain-frying strain—his dimples meant absolutely nothing to me.

Except…

The thing is, he was really good at explaining things in a way that made intuitive sense, and he was patient the whole time. By the end, I kind of felt like I understood a bit more about what was going on and felt less intimidated by the sight of shapes and numbers and equals signs. But don’t be misled: I hadn’t suddenly turned into some sort of geometry whiz. I made big mistakes and little mistakes all day long, and by the end, I was pretty down on myself. Morgan, I knew, wouldn’t have struggled at all.

As soon as he left, I took a nap. Dinner was ready when I finally woke, and after eating and cleaning the kitchen, I returned to my room and read from the textbooks. I still had more work to do on my paper, so I cranked up the Walkman and began scribbling. My aunt poked her head through my doorway a few minutes later and said something to me; I pretended I’d heard her, even though I hadn’t. If it was important, I figured that she’d come back and tell me again later.

After I’d been writing for a while, I made the mistake of forgetting that I was pregnant. I shifted to a more comfortable position and all at once, nature called. Again. When I opened the door to the hallway, I was surprised to hear conversation drifting from the living room. Peeking around the corner to see who it was, I noticed Gwen placing a cardboard box full of ornaments and lights in front of the Christmas tree and vaguely remembered my aunt telling me that we were going to decorate it tonight after work.

What I hadn’t expected was to see Bryce chatting with my aunt as she tuned the radio, finally settling on a station that was playing Christmas music. I felt my stomach do a little flip at the sight of him, but at least I wasn’t wearing pajamas and slippers and looking generally like I rode the rails, hobo style.

“There you are,” Aunt Linda said. “I was about to come get you. Bryce just arrived.”

“Hi, Maggie,” Bryce said. He was still wearing the same jeans and T-shirt, and I couldn’t help noticing the pleasing silhouette his shoulders and hips made. “Linda invited me over to help with the tree. I hope that’s okay.”

I was momentarily speechless, but I don’t think any of them noticed. Aunt Linda was already slipping into her jacket on her way out the door. “Gwen and I are going to make a quick run to the store to get some eggnog,” she said. “If you two want to get started on the lights, feel free. We’ll be back in a few minutes.”

I remained in the doorway before remembering with painful urgency why I’d left my room in the first place. I went to the bathroom and washed my hands afterward. Peering into the mirror above the sink, even I could tell I was tired, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it. I ran a brush through my hair, took a breath, and went out, wondering why I suddenly felt nervous. Bryce and I had been alone in the house already for hours; why was this any different?

Because, a voice inside me whispered, he’s not here to tutor me. He’s here because clearly Aunt Linda wanted him to come over, not for her, but because she thought I might like that.

By the time I walked out of the bathroom, Aunt Linda and Gwen were gone and Bryce had pulled a strand of lights from the box. I watched him struggle to untangle them, and playing it cool, I fished out a different strand and started untangling, too.

“I finished my reading,” I said. “Some of my paper, too.” Without sunlight streaming through the windows, his hair and eyes seemed darker than usual.

“Good for you,” he said. “I took Daisy for a walk on the beach and then my parents had me chop firewood. Thanks for having me over.”

“Of course,” I said, even though I’d had no say in the matter.

He finished with his strand and scanned the room. “I need to check to make sure the lights are working. Is there an outlet handy?”

I had no idea. I’d never needed to know where the outlets were, but I think he was mostly talking to himself, because he bent lower, peering under the table next to the couch. “There it is.”

He squatted down, his movements fluid, and reached underneath to plug in the strand. I watched as the multicolored lights blinked on.

“I love decorating Christmas trees,” he offered, heading to the box again. “It gets me into the spirit of things.” He reached for another strand just as I finished untangling mine. I plugged it into the strand on the floor, watching as it blinked on as well, then reached for another strand.

“I’ve never decorated a tree.”

“Really?”

“My mom usually does it,” I said. “She likes it to look a certain way.”

“Oh,” he said, and I could tell he was puzzled. “It’s the opposite in our house. My mom sort of directs while the rest of us do it.”

“She doesn’t like to decorate?”

“She does, but you’d have to meet her to understand. The eggnog was my idea, by the way. That’s part of our tradition and as soon as I mentioned it, your aunt Linda thought we should have some here, too. I was telling her how well I thought you did today. Especially at the end. I barely had to help you at all.”

“I’m still pretty far behind.”

“I’m not worried,” he said. “If you keep going like you did today, you’ll catch up in no time.”

I wasn’t so sure. He clearly had more confidence in me than I did. “Thanks for all your help. I’m not sure that I told you before you left. I was kind of out of it by then.”

“No worries,” he said. He took my strand and checked those lights as well. “How long have you lived in Seattle?”

“Since I was born,” I said. “Same house. Same bedroom, in fact.”

“I can’t imagine what that would be like. Until we got here, I moved pretty much every other year. Idaho, Virginia, Germany, Italy, Georgia, even North Carolina. My dad was at Fort Bragg for a while.”

“I don’t know where that is.”

“It’s in Fayetteville. South of Raleigh, about three hours from the coast.”

“Still doesn’t help. My knowledge of North Carolina is pretty much limited to Ocracoke and Morehead City.”

He smiled. “Tell me about your family. What do your mom and dad do?”

“My dad works on the line at Boeing. I think he does riveting, but I’m not really sure. He doesn’t talk about it much, but I get the sense it’s the same every day. My mom works part-time as a secretary at our church.”

“And you have a sister, right?”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “Morgan. She’s two years older than me.”

“Do you two look alike?”

“I wish,” I said.

“I’m sure she says the same thing about you.” His compliment caught me off guard, the same way it had in the morning when he’d told me I looked really nice. Meanwhile, Bryce retrieved an extension cord from the box. “I guess we’re ready,” he said. He plugged in the extension cord and attached the first strand of lights. “Do you want to lead or adjust?”

I wasn’t sure what he was talking about. “Adjust, I guess.”

“Okay,” he said. Gripping the tree, he gently scooted it away from the front window, making more space. “It’s easier to get around the tree this way. We can move it back when we’re finished.”

Making sure the cord had enough slack, he began stringing the lights at the back of the tree, then circled to the front. “Just make sure there are no gaps or places where the lights are too close together.”

Adjusting. Got it.

I did as he asked; it wasn’t long before the first strand was at an end, and he plugged in the next one. We repeated the process, working together.

He cleared his throat. “I’ve been meaning to ask what brought you to Ocracoke.”

And there it was. The question. Actually, I was surprised it hadn’t come up earlier, and I thought back to the conversation I’d had with my aunt and the impossibility of secrets in Ocracoke. And that, as she noted, it would be best if the answer came from me. I took a deep breath, feeling a flutter of fear.

“I’m pregnant.”

He was still bent over as he glanced up to face me. “I know. I meant why are you here in Ocracoke and not with your family?”

I felt my mouth fall open. “You knew I was pregnant? Did my aunt tell you?”

“Linda didn’t say anything. I just sort of put the pieces together.”

“What pieces?”

“The fact that you’re here but still enrolled in a school in Seattle? Because you’re leaving in May? Because your aunt was vague about the reason for your sudden visit? Because she asked for an extra cushy seat on your bike? Because you used the bathroom a lot today? Pregnancy was the only explanation that made sense.”

I wasn’t sure whether I was more surprised by the idea that he’d figured it out so easily or the fact that there was no judgment in his tone or his expression as he said it.

“It was a mistake,” I said in a rush. “I did something stupid last August with a guy I barely knew, and now I’m here until I have the baby because my parents didn’t want anyone to find out what happened to me. And I’d rather you not tell anyone, either.”

He started wrapping the tree again. “I’m not going to say anything. But won’t people learn what happened when they see you walking around with a baby?”

“I’m giving her up for adoption. My parents have it all figured out.”

“It’s a her?”

“I have no idea. My mom thinks it’ll be a girl because she says my family only makes girls. I mean…my mom has four sisters, my dad has three sisters. I have twelve female cousins and no males. My parents had girls.”

“That’s cool,” he offered. “Aside from my mom, it’s all boys in our family. Can you hand me another strand?”

The change in subject threw me. “Wait…don’t you have more questions?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. How it happened or whatever?”

“I understand the mechanics,” he said, his tone neutral. “You already mentioned that it was a guy you barely knew and a mistake, and you’re giving her up for adoption, so what else is there to say?”

My parents certainly had a lot more to say, but to his point, what did the details matter? In my confusion, I reached for another strand and handed it to him. “I’m not a bad person—”

“I never thought you were.”

He started going around the tree again; by then, the lights were halfway to the top.

“Why doesn’t any of this bother you?”

“Because,” he answered, still placing the lights, “the same thing happened to my mom. She was a teenager when she became pregnant. I guess the only difference was that my dad married her, and I eventually came along.”

“Your parents told you that?”

“They didn’t have to. I know their anniversary, and I know my birthday. The math isn’t hard.”

Wow, I thought. I wondered if my aunt knew all this.

“How old was your mom?”

“Nineteen.”

It didn’t seem like a significant age difference but it was, even if he didn’t say so. After all, at nineteen you’re a legal adult and not in high school anymore. Instead, once he finished with the next strand, he said, “Let’s step back and see how we’re doing.”

From a distance, it was easier to see the gaps and other places where the lights were too close together. At the tree, we both adjusted the strands, stepped back, then adjusted some more, the scent of pine filling the room as the branches moved. Strains of Bing Crosby played in the background as flickering light fell across Bryce’s features. In the silence, I wondered what he was really thinking and whether he was as accepting as he seemed.

Once we finished, we strung the lights on the top half of the tree. Because he was taller, he did pretty much everything while I stood and watched. When he was done, we both stepped farther away again and studied our accomplishment.

“What do you think?”

“It’s pretty,” I answered, even though my mind was still a million miles away.

“Do you know if your aunt has a star or an angel for the top?”

“I have no idea. And…thanks.”

“For what?”

“For not asking questions. For being so nice about the reason I’m in Ocracoke. For agreeing to tutor me.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said. “Believe it or not, I’m glad you’re here. Ocracoke can get kind of boring in the winter.”

“You don’t say.”

He laughed. “I guess you’ve noticed that, huh?”

For the first time since he’d arrived, I smiled. “It’s not all bad.”