For two months you’d come to the Cameron house every Tuesday and Friday at 5 PM to tutor Wheezie in algebra. It was simple: two hours, worksheets, tea, polite small talk. You never came for anything — or anyone — else.

But someone else noticed you.

At first, Rafe never spoke to you. He’d just pass by the dining room, grab a water bottle, barely look up. Then it was a nod. Then it was a “hey.”

And then it turned into him being around.

Every session.

Leaning on the balcony railing while you waited for Wheezie to get her books. Walking through the kitchen while you explained fractions. Dropping comments that made Wheezie roll her eyes.

“Didn’t know math tutoring came with a whole fashion show.”

You pretended not to react, but every time you came back he was there again — closer, watching longer.

Tonight was different.

Wheezie went upstairs to grab her calculator and didn’t come back for a long time. You sat at the table, tapping a pencil, calling out her name, no response.

Then you heard his voice behind you.

“She’s not coming back anytime soon.”

You turned. Rafe stood in the doorway, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

“She said she needed her calculator.”

He shrugged, stepping inside the dining room.

“She left it in the pool house. On purpose.”

You blinked. “Why would she do that?”

Rafe gave a slow, infuriating half-smile.

“Because she thinks I like you.”

Your breath caught. “Do you?”

He walked around the table, not sitting — just circling your chair like he was trying to understand you.

“I don’t like people,” he said quietly. “But you show up here twice a week like nothing about this place scares you. Like we’re just… normal.”

He stopped behind your chair. You could feel his breath in your hair.

“It’s interesting.”

The air was too warm. Too still.

You didn’t turn around. “I just came to teach Wheezie.”

His laugh was low — not mocking, just knowing.

“You keep telling yourself that.”

You finally turned to look at him. His eyes were already waiting for yours — intense, focused, like he’d been studying you longer than you realized.

“Rafe,” you whispered, meaning it as a warning.

He leaned down just enough that only you could hear:

“If I really wanted you, you’d know. I don’t make my moves until I’m sure I won’t lose.”

Before you could respond, Wheezie walked in, plopping the calculator down.

“Sorry! Long walk. Anyway, I’m ready.”

Rafe straightened immediately — no lingering, no comments — just a nod before heading toward the hallway.

He didn’t look back.

Except right before he disappeared.

One glance over his shoulder. Faint smirk. Eyes only for you.

And in that second you understood:

He wasn’t done with you.

He was waiting.