Page 34 of Power Play

“What are we starting with?”

I pulled the anthology closer and opened it to a marked page. “Mary Wollstonecraft.”

“Romantic.”

“You wanted philosophy and literature.”

“I wanted help passing the class. You’re the one who made this feel like a date.”

I looked at her. “You think this is a date?”

Her mouth curved. “You ordered my coffee, brought a library to impress me, and stared at my body before noon.”

“I can do all that while tutoring.”

“So efficient.”

“You keep talking and we’ll never reach the part where I impress you with dead feminists.”

“I’m already impressed by your confidence.”

“Is that why you keep staring at me?”

Her eyes narrowed, though she was smiling. “You’re insufferable.”

“You’re still here.”

“I need the grade.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

She kicked my shin lightly beneath the table.

I laughed and turned the anthology toward her. “Read the passage.”

Charm looked down and began, her voice soft enough that I had to lean closer to hear every word. She read cleanly, using the same controlled rhythm she fell into when she spoke around people she didn’t completely trust. Every sentence landed perfectly. Every pause came where it belonged.

It sounded like somebody had rehearsed her.

“Stop.”

She looked up. “I read three sentences.”

“You read them like you’re trying not to offend the author.”

“She’s dead.”

“That doesn’t make it better.” I tapped the page. “Read it like you believe her.”

“How would you know if I believe her?”

“I don’t. Make me believe you do.”

Charm looked back at the passage, lips pressing together as she reread it silently.

“She’s arguing that women are trained into weakness, then blamed for being weak.”

“Good.”