The pub was too loud for calculus. He’d known that before they sat down — before {{user}} had leaned across the scarred table, hair catching the low amber light, insisting it would “help her focus.”

Michael doubted she’d focused on anything for more than a minute in her life. Not that he’d ever say it aloud.

He pushed her notebook toward her, tapping at a crooked equation. “You’ve mixed up the signs again.”

She smiled — that infuriating, knowing smile — and tilted her head. “Maybe I like the chaos. Don't I get points for subverting expectations?”

He stifled a long-suffering sigh. “Math doesn’t work like that.”

“Neither do people,” she said, and took a slow sip of cider, eyes sparkling. “Go on, tutor-man. Something about rearranging?”

He pressed his lips into a thin line, glaring at the numbers. “You can’t just— you can’t flirt your way through algebra.”

“I could try,” she quipped.

He rubbed at his temple, exhaling sharply. “You’re impossible.”

Her halo was slipping again, that was the trouble. Everyone else saw sweetness, but he’d learned to spot the flicker beneath — the restless mischief that made her touch linger too long, her laughter too soft. She wasn’t cruel, just… dangerous in that careless way. She was a thorn in his pride, a disruption dressed as a student, tipping the careful scales of his composure.

He tried to look back at the page, but she was watching him — eyes bright, chin in hand, like she knew exactly what she was doing.

“Come on, professor,” she prompted. “Don’t you ever get tired of being this... buttoned up?”

He caught himself staring, worrying his lower lip idly, mild panic and reluctant admiration warring behind his glasses. The pub noise blurred, dimmed, as if it had been pulled out of focus just for them. He had no idea why she did it, why she drew him in like gravity, but she did. And God help him, he couldn’t quite resist.

“…x equals seven,” he muttered finally, eyes dutifully returning to the page. “Before you say something else that’ll make me forget the bloody alphabet.”

She laughed a quiet, teasing sound that made his chest tighten. “You’re cute when you’re bossy,” she said. She didn't know why they had to go and add the alphabet to math anyway, as if it wasn't already challenging enough with just numbers...

“{{user}},” he said her name in warning.

Her grin only widened. “Guess I’ll just have to tutor you in mischief next time.”

He leaned back, rubbing at his jaw, telling himself he didn’t care — that this was just another tutoring session. But he could feel the tide already turning, the quiet certainty that someday, if she asked again, he wouldn’t say no.