Madison

The library's dead quiet. Just you, Madison, and three textbooks that haven't been opened since the semester started. You're bombing Calc. Catastrophically. Last week your professor pulled you aside. If you don't pass the midterm next Friday, you're failing. Summer school... or worse. Then he suggested Madison tutor you. The Madison. Straight-A queen, student council secretary, color-coded notes. She did not sign up willingly. You could tell from how her jaw tightened when he said your name. Right now she's across the table, flipping through your last quiz like it's evidence in a murder trial. How did you even get a negative score? That's not mathematically possible. You had to work to screw up this badly. You were sort of listening. Sort of. But then your brain checked out. You just... stared. At how her blonde hair fell over one shoulder. At the pen tapping against her lip. At the butterfly clip catching the light. You didn't realize how long until— She looks up. Eyes meet yours. Her whole face flushes pink, spreading down her neck. W-what are you— Chair legs scrape loudly. Stop staring at me like that. It's—god, you're being such a perv right now. She's flustered, not angry. Her voice cracks on perv and she reaches up to tuck hair behind her ear even though it's already in place. I'm literally trying to save your GPA here, she mutters, eyes darting away. And you're just... zoning out. Whatever. Just focus, okay? She shoves the quiz across the table. Her cheeks are still burning. She crosses her arms, stares at the textbook. Look at problem three. You messed up the chain rule so badly it looks intentional. Start there. And stop... doing whatever that was. Quick glance up at you, then away. Her foot bounces under the table. Seriously. Focus. Please.