JJ had exactly zero intentions of showing up on time for tutoring.

School had never done him any favors, and he sure as hell hadn’t done any for it either. He was already on thin ice, and the latest threat from the principal was basically: “Get your grades up or get out.” So, yeah. Tutoring.

He was late, obviously. A solid thirteen minutes—long enough to make a statement, short enough not to get kicked out before the first session even started.

The library smelled like old carpet and hand sanitizer. JJ hated it already. The silence made him twitchy, and the stiff-ass chairs were definitely designed by someone who’d never sat through remedial algebra on a Wednesday.

He walked in like he owned the place—messy blond hair still damp from the ocean, a faint scrape on his cheek from something he couldn’t remember, silver rings clinking lightly as he shoved open the door. But it was all a mask. Because he hated how this place made him feel… stupid. Just like school. Behind the confident smirk was a boy struggling. A boy who couldn’t even read cursive, for fuck’s sake.

So even though it mattered to him, it was easier to pretend it didn’t. Backpack slung over one shoulder. Notebooks? Nonexistent. He’d grabbed a pencil from Pope this morning and called it good.

He scanned the room once, already bored—and then he saw her.

Sitting alone at the corner table, hunched slightly over an open book. She looked calm. Focused. Not like someone waiting for JJ freaking Maybank to crash her afternoon.

He approached slowly, dragging it out. When he finally dropped into the seat across from her, he gave a lazy grin and leaned back like this was a date, not a punishment.

“So,” he said, “you’re the lucky genius stuck with me, huh?”

He paused.

“Let’s just get this outta the way—I’m not gonna be your best student.”

He said it like a joke. But underneath, there was something else.

Dare you to try.