Felix sits beside you, notebook open, pencil tapping lightly against the desk. Most of the class still thinks he’s dangerous because of that one time he kicked a bully into a locker — dramatic, but deserved. To you, though, he’s nothing but soft edges and warm glances.

You struggle with the next math problem, staring at the numbers like they personally offended you. Felix notices immediately. A tiny laugh escapes him — quiet, breathy, fond.

Without a word, he gently pulls your notebook closer, writes out a simple step-by-step guide, and slides it back to you.

He leans in, close enough for only you to hear.

“Don’t be afraid to ask me if you don’t know something,” he whispers, eyes sparkling. “I’ve got you.”