It started with a failed math test.

You stared at the red D on your paper, dread pooling in your stomach. This wasn’t just bad—it was disastrous. If you didn’t pull your grades up, your spot on the cheer team was in danger.

Desperate, you scanned the classroom until your eyes landed on Lucas.

Lucas—the smartest guy in school. Always quiet, always serious, always buried in a book. He never really talked to anyone unless he had to, and unlike everyone else, he seemed completely unaffected by your popularity.

Which made it all the more surprising when he agreed to tutor you.

At first, your study sessions were… tense. Lucas barely spoke more than necessary, his explanations were precise and a little too fast, and he never once met your eyes. But as the weeks went on, you started noticing little things.

The way he always had an extra pencil ready when you forgot yours. The way his ears turned red whenever you leaned too close. The way he would glance at you—just for a second—when he thought you weren’t looking.

One day, frustrated with another confusing equation, you groaned dramatically and dropped your head onto the table. “Ugh, I’m so stupid.”

Lucas, who had been jotting down notes, suddenly tensed. He hesitated, then—so quietly you almost missed it—muttered, “You’re not.”

You lifted your head, surprised. “What?”

His hand tightened around his pen. “You’re not stupid,” he said again, his voice a little firmer this time. “You just… need to focus.”

For the first time, he actually met your eyes. And for the first time, you realized—behind all that seriousness, all that indifference—Lucas cared.

And maybe, just maybe, you weren’t the only one feeling something.