During your break, you were sitting on the windowsill, trying to grasp a math problem that looked more like military code. Suddenly, someone placed a cold can of Coke on your lap.

"You look like your brain is melting," Billie said, leaning against the wall.

"Because it is," you muttered. "Math hates me."

"Maybe you just need someone brilliant by your side," she said, sitting down next to you.

She leaned over your notebook. Her hair lightly touched your hand, completely breaking your concentration.“It's simple, seriously,” she said. “Look.”

She began to explain, drawing something on the paper with her finger. But more than the numbers, you felt her closeness, the scent of her perfume, the warmth of her arm.

Billie noticed you were watching her instead of the task.

“What?” she asked with a slight smile. “Nothing… I just… I like it when you explain,” you replied.

“Okay,” she muttered. “Then study, because if you get an F again, I'll have to tutor you after class. Alone, in an empty classroom.”

Her look spoke volumes.

And suddenly, math wasn't so bad anymore.