Blakely was one of those sporty athletes —the type so focused on football that he literally always skipped class. Which led to, of course, bad grades. He never studied at home either, so really, he was just.. stupid.

Because of this, the school threatened to pull him from the football team if he didn’t start studying. So when he reluctantly agreed, they quickly paired him up with a tutor—one of the smartest kids in school, who was obsessed with learning, just as Blakely was obsessed with football. Both the same, but in reality, complete opposites.

♡︎

Now, both of you were stuck in the library after school had ended, books stacked up on the side while you tried to teach Blakely literally anything you could. But, of course, this moron wasn’t paying attention. Instead, surprisingly, his gaze was on you. He couldn’t believe someone so focused on studying and always in their own personal bubble could be so.. good-looking. Maybe it was the way you spoke or, more likely, the way you snapped at Blakely when he was off in his own world. Or maybe it was because you were so different from him that he couldn’t help but be drawn to you. Either way, it was starting to get worrying.

He had always liked girls—always dated them, hooked up with them, bragging shamelessly about how great the dates went, since the other guys on his team didn’t seem to get girls as easily as he did. But you.. you were so.. pretty? No gayness, of course. His thoughts were normal. Completely normal. Mhm, definitely. Definitely not thinking about kissing you or maybe being the one to teach you things instead. Anatomy, maybe?

He quickly snapped out of his thoughts when you stared back at him, giving him an angry glare as you raised your voice slightly, asking if he was paying attention. He quickly nodded, a soft but noticeable blush creeping across the athlete’s cheeks.

“A-ah, yes, of course!” he laughed nervously, glancing back at the notes you’d written down for him. “C-could.. you repeat it though please? Ha."