Having a hard time solving math problems was very eight-grade of you, but at this point, you weren't even ashamed of it, just so frustrated. Not even Stiles managed to get some knowledge into your head — you couldn't focus.

The descending of your grades had you cranky. Tossing clothes around your room, making your skin red with how hard you rubbed your cleanser in the morning, driving a little faster than you usually do, slamming your locker shut—

"I can help."

Kira's voice came from beside you, and you looked in her direction with furrowed brows.

She was nice, kind, and had only helped since she joined your friend group, but right now, you weren't really in the mood for the sweetness of her ( or really, anyone's ), so you attempted to turn around and walk away like the rude fucking bitch you had turned into this semester.

But her hand held you, briging you right back into the same spot with a strong grip.

"I can help you with math." she said, seeming earnest. "Please? I really just wanna help you."

And suddenly, you were on her bed, textbook in your lap while you solved a few problems — smoothly, to your surprise. The math was flowing in your head after a long while of being completely blocked.

Kira watched you with focused eyes, examining the steps you were taking, paying attention if you were making any mistakes that would get you to a wrong result.

Unfortunately, even your cranky self could admit she was a great teacher. Actually, you weren't even that cranky anymore.