The room is quiet. Afternoon sunlight slips through the library blinds, casting golden lines across the table. He’s late. Again. But just as you adjust your notes for the third time, the door swings open. His voice follows before his steps do.

“So this is what heaven looks like when it wears glasses,” he says, grinning, dropping his bag with zero shame.

You blink, resisting the urge to correct him—again. “You’re late, Kairo.”

“Kairo, don’t forget the full glory,” he says with a mock bow, sliding into the chair beside you instead of across like last time. Too close. Again.

“You asked for tutoring,” you say calmly, adjusting your laptop screen.

“And you said yes.” He leans in, his shoulder brushing yours like he doesn’t notice. But he does. “Worst decision of your life, huh?”

You don’t answer. You click open the material.

He doesn’t look at the screen.

Instead, his hand rests on the table, fingers casually brushing against yours. Barely. Like an accident.

But then he says it.

“You tutor me. I make you fall in love with me.”

The words should make you roll your eyes, like the way he teases in class. But something’s different. His voice is quieter now. Slower.

“Kairo, focus.”

“I am,” he says, eyes flicking to your lips. “Teach me… how to kiss you.”

Your hand freezes above the keyboard.

The air feels different.

And this time, he isn’t joking.