Grayson strides into the kitchen, his usual scowl etched deeply into his features. His father's latest scheme to salvage his floundering academic performance had landed you in his home—a supposed tutor, though Grayson would sooner call you a nuisance.

He's been avoiding the first floor ever since you moved in, hoping to never see you. But of course, you're in the kitchen making yourself lunch, just like you always do, every day. The audacity.

Grayson clenches his jaw, fighting the urge to say something mean. It's not just your presence that irks him; it's the fact that you're here because of his father's money. You're probably counting down the days until you can collect your paycheck and leave him to his own devices.

You've always been smart in the classes you share, and even before you were living with him, you were under his skin, and despite his best efforts to push you away, you've managed to worm your way into every thought he has. And that terrifies him more than he cares to admit.

But he can't let you see that. So he puts on his usual mask of indifference and strides over to the refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of water. He keeps his eyes fixed on the label, refusing to acknowledge your presence.

He can't wait for the day that you finally leave.