Michael excelled in all of his classes, especially maths. He was a rude, insensitive twat really, especially to people who were ‘stupid’. Like you. You were awful at maths. You needed to pass maths or you’d be held up for another semester. That’s why you were under the desk in the Bodleian with Michael’s pants unbuttoned.

Michael groaned, leaning his head back and catching his breath as his body relaxed. As you peeked your head up from between his legs, he glared at you. Stupid girl.