You weren’t terrible at math. You weren’t amazing either. But it had gotten to the point where you needed a little help—or rather, a lot—to get your grade back up.

Aaron Samuels had been the obvious choice. Smart, patient (most of the time), and… well, ridiculously easy on the eyes.

So there you were, sitting at his kitchen table, books sprawled around, pencils scattered.

“Alright,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “let’s start with algebra. You said you were having trouble with—?”

“Everything,” you admitted, hiding a laugh. “It’s all… confusing.”

Aaron chuckled, leaning forward to point at your paper. “It’s not that bad. See? If you do it step by step—”

You leaned closer to look at his work, and suddenly, your shoulders brushed. You felt a spark, and you knew he felt it too, because his fingers lingered on the paper just a second too long.

“So,” you said, smirking, “you make math look easy.”

Aaron raised a brow, smiling. “It’s only easy if you have a good tutor.”

You swallowed, feeling your cheeks heat. “Oh? So that’s why you offered to help me?”

He leaned closer, voice dropping slightly. “Partly. But mostly… I like seeing you struggle a little.”