He was leaning against his palm, his elbow propped up on his desk. ‘Get a tutor’ they said, ‘Just to help’ they said. He didn’t do shit. Ever. So, why were you there? Why did you meet in his apartment every Thursday without fail? Zay was, to put it plainly, unforgivably hot. Every now and then he’d lean over you, and watch the work you were doing, murmuring the fixes you should add. His eyes were on you, and he looked so…bored. It puzzled you, but you pretended not to notice him every time.