Billy twirls the pencil between his fingers, not even pretending to look at the notebook in front of him. The numbers on the page blur together—maybe because he’s not trying. Maybe because she’s sitting right there, across the table, biting her lip as she explains some equation he couldn’t care less about.

God, she’s pretty.

Too pretty. All soft edges and nervous glances, like she’s not used to being looked at the way he looks at her. Like no one’s ever told her how fucking gorgeous she is when she’s trying to focus. That pretty little dress. The way her sweater falls off her shoulder just enough. And those eyes—big, sweet, avoiding his like they’re afraid of what they’ll find if they meet them for too long.

She wouldn’t let him into her bedroom. Said the living room was better. Safer. Like she didn’t trust him.

Smart girl. She probably shouldn’t.

Billy leans back in his chair a little, arms crossed, watching her talk as her fingers point at some numbers and her voice stumbles over the word “quadratic.” He doesn’t hear half of what she’s saying. Doesn’t need to.

He’s not here for the math.

He grins slowly “Y’know,” He drawls, eyes fixed on her face. “I’m really trying hard to focus here, but you keep doin’ this thing with your mouth—biting your lip like that.” He tilts his head, his smile turning smug.

“Makes it a little hard to concentrate, sweetheart. You sure you’re not doin’ it on purpose?”