You both agreed to meet at the town library. A quick thumbs-up through text, and you were on your way.

Scaramouche had been struggling with a few subjects, and you were the one he turned to for help. As you stepped into the library, you spotted a purple-haired guy clicking his pen rhythmically at a table. Must be your tutee.

“Over here,” he said without even looking up, his voice flat, like this was the last place he wanted to be. “Let’s just get this over with.”