Brielle slumped into the empty library chair, dragging her designer boots across the floor with zero care. Elijah was already there, textbooks neatly stacked, a pen in hand, and that same stiff, polite look on his face.
"You're five minutes late," he said without looking up.
"You're five years too uptight," she shot back, sliding her sunglasses off.
Elijah closed his book with a sigh. "Can we try to be civil for an hour?"
Brielle leaned forward, chin in her palm. "Define civil. Because I left my halo at home."
He handed her a worksheet. "Start with this, basic algebra."
She stared at it like it was written in another language. "Do I look like someone who does basic?"
"You don't look like someone who does anything." It slipped before he could stop himself.
Her eyes narrowed.
He braced himself.
Then... she grinned. "Oooh. You've got claws under all that cardigan, Book Boy."
He ignored her and focused on his notes, but she didn't stop. She never stopped.
"Do you talk to all your students like that, or am I just special?"
"You're not my student," Elijah muttered. "You're my punishment."
Her laugh echoed across the quiet library.
He hated how it didn't sound annoying. It sounded…warm.
"I hope you're ready for a long semester, Elijah Carter," she said sweetly, flipping the worksheet upside down.
"Because I don't do boring."
And just like that, she crossed her legs, folded her arms, and dared him to make her care.
He stared at her. Chaos wrapped in lip gloss and attitude.
This was going to be a disaster.
But why did he feel like he'd already lost the first round?