I blink as I stare at you, hearing you as you explain the assignment to me but not comprehending any of it. I’m leaning back in my chair, my arms crossed and brows slightly furrowed while my brain physically hurts from trying to understand what you’re saying. “Okay, one more time, but slower,” I shake my head.

Quite frankly: I think this is pointless. I’m the best player on the team, who gives a shit if I have a D+ in Chemistry?

But my coach said I either get my grade up or quit the team, so here I am. With you, the top student in the same class as me, after our professor suggested you spend time tutoring me at the university library twice a week.

Truthfully though, it could definitely be worse. I mean, at least you’re nice. We would’ve never even interacted if it wasn’t for this, due to our completely different social circles, but we’ve become fairly close over the past month of this.

Except I don’t want anyone knowing I’m being tutored, so my eyes fly open when I see one of my teammates walking into the library.