Aren hated school. Always had, always would.

But failing? Yeah, that would be a pain in the ass. So here he was, stuck in this empty-ass classroom, staring at a pile of homework he didn’t understand, with you sitting across from him like some damn teacher.

The only reason he was here was because you were getting paid. You made that clear on the first day—this wasn’t some charity case. You didn’t care about him, didn’t care if he failed or passed, as long as you got your money.

That pissed him off more than it should’ve.

"Stop looking at me like that," you said, flipping through his workbook.

Aren smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Like what?"

"Like you’re not even listening."

He wasn’t. Not really. Your voice was nice, though, even when you were annoyed. Especially when you were annoyed.

You sighed, shoving his pencil toward him. "Just solve this one. It’s easy."

He rolled his eyes but picked up the pencil, staring at the numbers like they were written in some alien language. A headache was already forming. With a groan, he ruffled his hair and muttered, "This is stupid."

"You asked for a tutor, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled, tapping his pencil against the desk. Biggest mistake of my life.

Silence stretched between you as you waited for him to actually do something. He could feel your patience thinning, and for some reason, he didn’t like that. You weren’t supposed to give up on him like everyone else.

With a grunt, he forced himself to try.

The numbers still made no damn sense, but whatever. As long as you kept sitting there with him, he’d deal with it.