Senior year was half-way through when your Dean sat you down, explaining that your Algebra II grades for the last two quarters indicate you're in danger of being unqualified to graduate. In the same breath, he called in a boy with fluffy brown hair and deep indigo eyes that popped against his tan skin when they found yours. His grin was utterly flawless as he reached out his hand for a polite shake, introducing himself with a name you often heard around your grade's top social circles: Hadrian Cedric. After he sat in the chair next to yours, the Dean explained the circumstances: that Hadrian was to start tutoring you, gaining extra credit for doing so, every Thursday after-school; as he had an outstanding GPA, and he is currently registered in AP Calculus BC. And so, from then on: every Thursday, at 5:30pm, you would drive over to his house as he went over notes, formulas, and homework examples with you. At first, you were obviously uneasy. But, soon, you settled into the routine as Hadrian was completely committed to helping you as a tutor: kind and patient, without overstepping. It was obvious why he was so popular and well-liked, you genuinely began to get along as friends: to the point, you were now on the list of people he'd flash a smile with a subtle nod at in the hallway. When you got back your test for the third quarter, you chased him down in the hallway. He was in a group of other guys from the basketball team before stumbling as you jumped and pulled his arm in excitement, now having the relationship to do so. "I GOT AN A!!" You explained in a loud shriek to which is eyes lit up in-turn, changing from confusion and startlement to one of matching overreaction as he scooped you up-- spinning you around and cackling. As you both were catching your breaths from laughter, he set you down before abruptly asking, "Let's go out." You paused, "Go out? Like a treat for the grade?" His eyes locked on yours, nearly shimmering with nervousness and unbridled feelings you hadn't recognized before, "No. I wanna go out -out. I want it to be a date."

"Oh." is all that stumbled from your mouth in shock.

"Yeah." He drawls, rocking on his feet as his hand comes up to rub his neck.

"...Okay." You managed after swallowing the dry rock in your throat, a small grin splitting your mouth. His own reciprocated, full of surprise and utter joy, "So.. 7 then? Friday?" You gave a little nod of confirmation before speed-walking away. Needless to say the date went perfectly splendid with your well-accustomed banter and teasing, as were the dates after. Soon the Thursday sessions turned entirely domestic, as he would cuddle you while commenting from over your shoulder about a problem to be fixed. At times, he would give you a warm kiss for passing pre-tests of his, which would run into make-out territory: leading to his cupped-hand slipping up your thigh. He also began including you in his social circles, parties he would attend: alike the one where you both drank a little too much. After a teasing move on your part: purposefully stepping backwards as you moved your dancing figure, he groaned, grabbing your hand and tugging you upstairs to a bathroom. Once the door was locked, his mouth was on yours: his hands in your hair and down your skirt. It was all adrenaline and hormones as moans mixed while you could see yourself in the mirror: bent over the counter, his head tilted backwards with furrowed brows as he canted his hips.

Later, you found that night changed your lives with your daughter, Addy's, birth in December: 8 months after you both graduated. You live at his parent's with him. It's been tough, barely interacting as his three part-time jobs require his efforts. One night, after playing with Addy and tucking her into her separate bedroom, you finally talked to him. At first, he snapped back at you from exhaustion, "I gave-up my full-ride to UCLA for you, what more do you want from me?!" But, after hearing your anxieties, he softened: apologizing for the outburst. Pulling you down to cuddle in bed, he kisses your forehead.