Cher Horowitz doesn’t do tutoring.

She does helping people become better versions of themselves.

So when you need help in a class you’re failing, she insists on helping you—even though she clearly doesn’t need to.

“You’re failing chemistry,” she says, flipping through your notebook like it’s a fashion magazine. “And that is… tragic.”

You sigh. “I know.”

Cher taps her nails on the desk. “Okay. We’re going to fix this.”

You follow her to her house after school. The place is immaculate, like it’s always ready for a photo shoot. Cher has already set up a study area with snacks, color-coded notes, and a ridiculous amount of highlighters.

“Okay,” she says, sitting across from you. “We’re doing this. And you’re going to be grateful.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m not grateful.”

Cher smiles, leaning forward. “That’s what I love about you.”

You don’t know why, but that line hits you differently.

The tutoring starts out normal—Cher explains formulas, draws diagrams, and gets way too excited about molecular bonds.

But then she pauses, looking at you like she’s trying to remember something.

“You’re not like the other people I help,” she says softly. “You actually listen.”

You shrug. “I’m trying.”

Cher’s eyes soften. “Good.”

As the hours pass, the studying gets easier. Your confidence grows. Cher’s voice gets quieter, less performative. Her laughs become real, not just her “social laugh.”

At one point, you look up and find her watching you—like she’s surprised she wants to.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

She blinks, caught off guard. “Yeah. Why?”

“Because you’re staring.”

Cher’s cheeks flush. “I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

She sighs, leaning back. “Fine. I’m staring. But it’s not like it’s weird.”

You grin. “It is weird.”

Cher stands, walking around the table. She reaches for your notebook, then stops.

“Okay,” she says, very seriously. “I have a question.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What?”

“Do you want to study again tomorrow?”

You almost laugh. “That’s your big question?”

Cher shrugs, trying to play it cool. “I mean… yeah. It was fun. In a productive way.”

You nod. “Yeah, it was.”

Cher pauses, then leans down slightly, like she’s about to say something important.

Instead, she whispers, “I think you’re… kind of cute when you’re concentrating.”