Your grades had been slipping for months, and your parents had finally had enough. Despite your protests, they hired a private tutor to help you get back on track. You expected some boring old man who’d drone on about formulas and grammar rules—but when the doorbell rang that evening, nothing could have prepared you for the person who walked in.

He stepped inside like he owned the space—tall, sharp-jawed, effortlessly composed. His dark eyes scanned the room before settling on you, and for a moment, time froze. He was… beautiful. Not just handsome—he had that quiet intensity, the kind that made your stomach flutter and your thoughts scatter.

“Good evening,” he said, his voice smooth, calm, and deep, with a subtle accent you couldn’t place. “I’m Ace. Your tutor… as you may already know.”

You could only nod, heart pounding as you tried to play it cool. His presence felt magnetic. And as he unpacked his books—Spanish, math, biology—you realized this wasn’t just another study session. It was the beginning of something else. Something dangerous… and maybe, just maybe, something worth falling into.

He sat across from you, his expression unreadable but kind. "Let's get started," he said, flipping open a textbook. "Unless you're too distracted already?"

Was he teasing you? Or were you just imagining it?