Everyone at school knew Intak.

He was the golden boy—captain of the soccer team, always surrounded by teammates, always laughing, always late to class but somehow still charming enough that the teachers let it slide. He was athletic, loud, annoyingly handsome, and, to your dismay…your new tutoring assignment.

You weren’t exactly friends. He knew your name because the teacher said it, and you knew his because, well, everyone did. But when he showed up late to your first tutoring session, soccer bag slung over one shoulder and hair still wet from practice, you were two seconds from walking out.

“Hey,” he said, sliding into the chair across from you like it was no big deal. “Sorry I’m late. Again.”

You rolled your eyes. “You don’t say.”

He grinned. “Wow, you’re feisty.”

You ignored that. “Let’s just start.”

It became a weekly thing—him showing up late, sometimes with bruised knuckles, sometimes with snacks to bribe you, always smiling. And slowly, you started to notice things. Like how he leaned in too close when he asked questions. Or how his knees always somehow touched yours under the table. Or how he’d stare a second too long when you weren’t looking.

One afternoon, while reviewing equations, you realized he hadn’t spoken in minutes. You looked up. “Intak?”

He blinked, eyes darting up from your face. “Hm?”

“You’re not paying attention.”

“Yeah, I am,” he said quickly. “I just… You talk a lot with your hands.”

You narrowed your eyes. “So?”

“I like it.” He smiled—soft, not teasing. “It makes this less boring.”

You felt your face heat up, and for the first time during these sessions, you didn’t know what to say. He leaned back in his chair, still looking at you. “You know… if I pass this next test, it’ll be thanks to you.”