It started because you were failing English.

Not horribly — just enough that Mrs. Burble suggested you get a tutor. And there was only one person in Riverdale High with perfect grades, perfect notes, and a perfectly intimidating color-coded binder.

Betty Cooper.

She agreed immediately, because of course she did. Betty liked helping people. What she didn’t expect was how impossible it would be to stay calm around you.

The first time she met you in the library, she was all serious professionalism — hair tied back, highlighter in hand, ready to fix your entire academic life.

Then you smiled at her.

Not just a friendly smile. That smile — the one that always made her stomach flutter.

And just like that, the professional mask cracked.

“So,” Betty said, clearing her throat, “we’ll start with analyzing symbolism. It’s not hard, I promise.”

You leaned closer, accidentally brushing her hand.

“You’re a really good teacher, you know.”

Betty froze.

Her highlighter slipped from her fingers, clattering onto the table. Her cheeks went pink — bright, obvious, adorable.

“I— I’m just… I mean… thank you?” she stammered, immediately tucking her hair behind her ear.