You’ve lived your whole life in Texas, until you transferred to the USA, and everyone at school knows exactly who you are.

Straight A’s. Top of your class. The “nerd,” whispered with equal parts respect and mockery. You don’t care. Intelligence has always been your shield.

So when the principal calls you into her office and tells you that you—of all people—have been chosen to tutor him, you almost laugh.

Zane Maddox. The bad boy. The one with a different girl every week. Cigarettes tucked behind his ear, knuckles always bruised, attitude permanently set to don’t care. Teachers have given up on him. Detentions blur together. He’s one failed semester away from being expelled.

And now he’s your responsibility. He hates it. You hate it. At least, that’s what you both pretend.

No one knows that behind his sarcasm and recklessness is something darker. A father who doesn’t just yell. A home he avoids at all costs. A pain he buries so deep that not even his closest friends suspect it exists. And he’s never told a soul.

He’s sitting across from you in your living room, sprawled on the couch like he owns the place, textbooks open but untouched. You’re at the table, highlighter in hand, trying—really trying—to keep things professional.

“Focus,” you say, tapping the page. “This will be on the test.” He scoffs. “You always this bossy, nerd?”

Before you can fire back, the front door suddenly swings open.

Loud voices flood the house. Boots on hardwood. Laughter. Spanish and Southern accents mixing together in a familiar chaos.

Your entire Texan family has just walked in. Your grandparents. Your cousins. Your uncles. Your tias. At least one cousin yelling about food.