The Class Prince

Chapter 15: Friend or Foe?

"Did I get it wrong?" I asked hesitantly.

"What do you mean?" he mumbled absently, still focused on the paper.

"You look like you want to rip your head off."

"Sorry, that's just how my face works," he chuckled, finally handing me back my paper. "You got it right."

"Really?!" I gasped.

"No, dummy, you forgot the brackets."

Before I could flip the table, he took my pen and started to explain the equation. I could tell that he was breaking down his sentences into simple words and spoke slowly so that I wouldn't have a hard time keeping up. But it was hard to concentrate on what he was saying when I kept getting distracted by his mesmerizing face. How could someone so annoying look so divine?

"Hey, are you listening?" he asked, tapping my forehead with my pen. I quickly snapped out of it and cleared my voice.

Of course not.

"Absolutely."

"Pay attention," he sighed.

"Yeah, yeah, I hear you," I grumbled, trying not to get distracted by his face again. He continued to explain the equation.

"Alright, now try solving it again."

I picked up my pen and began doing the equation, trying my best to remember everything he had told me. When I was done, he checked my answer. A few long minutes passed, and then he suddenly rested his forehead against the table, closing his eyes. My stomach twisted into a nervous knot.

"Did I get it wrong again?" I asked frantically. "But I added the brackets this time."

"Make me food," he mumbled in a gruff voice, making my brows slowly draw together.

Did this boy just ask me to make him... Food?

I blinked. "What?"

"You got the equation right, so make me food."

A wide smile pulled up my lips as I stood up in excitement.

"Did I really get it right?!"

"Food," he grunted.

I tried to play it cool, but when I entered the kitchen, I did a quick victory dance, which hurt my sore limbs, and I clutched onto the counter, silently screaming in pain.

"What do you want to eat?" I winced, clearing my voice.

"Anything."

His voice was low and raspy, and I could tell that he was tired. Then again, he just came back from school and work before tutoring me. I felt guilty and decided to make it up to him with a decent dinner.

"I hope you don't mind me using your kitchen."

I opened the cupboards and found a box of pasta and tomato sauce. I rummaged around and grabbed a pot before heading over to the sink. I poured in water and turned the stove on, leaving the water to boil. When bubbles appeared, I poured in the dry pasta.

"So tell me," I heard him murmur in a raspy voice. "Why were you getting beat up by a bunch of punks yesterday?"

"One of them used to go to the same school as me. We never really got along."

"Why?"

I stirred the pasta with a fork, adding a pinch of salt. "He had a crush on me, but I turned him down."

There was a small pause. "Did you turn him down because you're straight or because he wasn't your type?"

I leaned against the counter and took a second to think about it. "Both I guess." I turned towards him and raised a brow. "Wait, how come you get to ask all the questions?"