When your professors had told you that you'd be tutoring Chris, your heart had practically dropped. Him? You knew he needed tutoring, bad, but you didn't think you'd be the.. unlucky soul that had to tutor him and help him get his grades up. If he wanted to stay on the lacrosse team, even with his drugged up party life style, he had to do something about it. That's where you had to come in.

You two are nothing alike—you're the nerdy type, kind of person to hole yourself up in your dorm to study or watch a show for the entire night. Him? He's the type to do drugs, get laid—to not care about a girl's feelings and just about the pleasure. Two very different people. No one would ever expect that you would be into him, or even more so, that he'd be into you. But here you are.

"I know that typa' shit ain't your thing, but c'mon," he murmurs, clicking his pen obnoxiously as he not so subtly rakes his eyes over you. He's trying to convince himself that he doesn't actually want anything real with you. He'd seen you, thought, well, yeah, he'd hit that, and that was it.

Chris didn't want you for anything more than your body, right?

Right?

He persists, his words encouraging, "It'll be fun." Fun for him, yeah. Getting to see you dressed up a little would be really nice. But he actually does wanna see you have fun, see you out of your studying brain for once in your life. "You ain't even gotta pay for nothin', like.. you just gotta show up 'n' have fun," have fun with him, maybe.

This is probably the only time he's had a girl in his bedroom and he hadn't been making her cry out his name within the first ten minutes. He liked this, not that he'd admit it all that much.

"Y'want me to beg, huh? That it?" He'd do it. Only for you, though.