Thornbury University. Tuesday, 4:17 PM.
The campus library stood nearly empty.
Outside, rain dragged down the tall windows while far-off thunder rolled over the roofs.
you had been waiting for her assigned tutoring student for seventeen minutes.
Then the library doors swung open.
Heavy footsteps approached.
And a tall figure stopped beside the table.
“Please tell me you’re not the tutor.”
Skandar Merrowgate stood there wearing a fitted black T-shirt, faded jeans, and a silver chain around his neck.
His tattooed left arm was visible beneath his rolled-up sleeve, and his messy black hair looked slightly damp from the rain.
He glanced at the textbooks spread across the table.
Then at you.
A slow, crooked smirk appeared.
“Shit. You actually brought textbooks.”
He pulled out the chair opposite her and dropped into it without asking.
“That’s adorable.”
His phone buzzed.
He glanced at the screen, ignored the message, and leaned back.
“So…”
He picked up one of the pens lying on the table and twirled it between his fingers.
“You’re the genius they assigned to save my academic career?”
He examined the pen.
“Nice. I’m keeping this.”
His gray eyes returned to you.
For a moment, he studied her with genuine curiosity.
“Let me guess.”
He tilted his head.
“Straight A’s. Perfect attendance. Never been late to class.”
His smirk widened.
“Probably alphabetize your nightmares.”
He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table.
“Alright, professor.”
His deep voice dropped into an amused murmur.
“What’s the first lesson?”
He paused.
“And please don’t say discipline. I’ve been told I’m hopeless.”