I was sitting on the couch, trying to solve a math equation that I've been struggling with for the past hour.
"This doesn't make any sense!" I shouted in frustration, slumping in my seat. I looked over towards the clock and frowned.
It was already 7:30 p.m, why hasn't he come back?
And then I heard keys outside the door. The doorknob twisted and Ivan stepped in, glancing towards me with a smile.
"Miss me?" he smirked and I narrowed my eyes.
"Who'd miss you?" I snorted, my arms crossed over my chest. Sure, I've been anticipating your arrival, glancing towards the clock every ten minutes and anxiously waiting for you to come back, but I didn't miss you.
"How's your face?" he asked.
"Great, thanks."
He walked over towards me and gently lifted my chin, brushing a finger over one of my scratches. My eyes widened as his face was only inches away from mine.
Too close, too close, too close!
When Ivan placed his hand on my jaw, it was as if he was touching my entire core. A tingling sensation jolted down my spine. I quickly pulled away, my heart pounding against my chest. What was he trying to do? Give me a heart attack?!
"Does it still hurt?" he asked, unfazed.
"I'm healing," I grumbled hoarsely. He just grunted, walking off to his room. As soon as he disappeared around the corner, I looked down at my chest and scowled.
No, stop that! Stop beating so quickly!
While I mentally scolded myself, Ivan came back wearing a new pair of clothes. He sat down beside me and took a look at the equation that I was trying to solve.
"You're studying?" he said.
"Don't act so surprised."
He cocked a brow. "Who said I was acting?"
I was ready to punch him, but then he said, "Mr. Power said that you were having trouble studying."
"I don't need your help," I growled.
"Your grades say otherwise."
"You think you're smarter than me?" I snapped.
"I know I am," he chuckled, unbuttoning his shirt and disappearing into his room. When he left, I pressed my hand against my chest and felt my heart pounding.
No, stop that! Stop beating so hard for that jerk!
His arm brushed over mine when he leaned over to look at the equation I was solving. Well, the one I was trying to solve. I closed the notebook before he could see. He'd probably laugh at my answers and tell me I was stupid. I wasn't stupid. I just wasn't good at math. There was a difference.
"Let me see," he said.
"I'm not done."
He rolled his bluish-grey eyes. "Yes, you are."
"No, I'm not."
"Desmond," he growled, his voice sending tingles down my spine. "Give me the notebook while I'm still being nice."
This was him being nice?!
"Fine, but I'll nuke you if you laugh," I mumbled. I handed him the tattered notebook and anxiously waited for him to finish correcting my answer. A few minutes passed.
"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?"
Ivan remained silent.
"So, why did you agree to tutor me?" I asked, quickly changing the subject to a safer topic.
"Because you try."
My heart pounded against my chest, and a steady drum occupied my ears.
"How would you know? We never talk or hang out at school."
"No, but I've seen you study by yourself in the library after lunch. You look exhausted and on the verge of tears, but you never give up. You try, Desmond, that's why I agreed to help."
Ivan's eyes were still the same cold grey color, but something about them had changed. I turned my back towards him, staring at the boiling water. If he asked why my face was red, I could blame the steam.
"Next question," I blurted. "I saw a photo on your desk yesterday and was wondering who the person standing next to you was."
"He was someone special to me," Ivan said. "My parents are too busy with their jobs, so they hire people to take care of me. He was one of those people."
I frowned. "Oh."
"It's fine, I don't really know my parents anyway," he said, dismissing my worry. When I turned towards him, his face was emotionless, and I wondered how long it took him to learn how to mask his feelings like that. Or perhaps he taught himself to stop feeling at all.
"Don't say that."
"Accidents happen. I'm only here because my mother didn't want to get an abortion."
He spoke in such a factual way that it almost felt like he had dissociated himself from his own past and was talking about someone else. The hair on my arms stood at the thought of a mother and father telling their son he was a 'mistake.'
"Which is why I was so close to the person in the photo, he was all I had."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear."
He blinked at me and then laughed. "He's not dead, Des."
I felt a flush of embarrassment. "Well, you talk about him like he is."
Ivan rested his head on the table. "Dead or alive, it doesn't make much of a difference. He and I are nothing but history now," he murmured. "He wasn't fired. He quit his job and moved away for his studies."
It felt like he was saying, "He's the one who left me."
Even though Ivan tried to hide it, I could tell that he was sad and felt betrayed. Then again, his caretaker seemed to be the only source of love for Ivan when growing up. But it made me wonder just how strong their bond used to be. The way he spoke about him gave me the feeling that their relationship was more than just formal.
"What happened to the photo? It wasn't there this morning."
"I threw it away. I forgot I had it, and it was collecting dust on my desk. Is the food ready?"
He was changing the subject.
"Almost."
I drained the water out of the pot and put equal portions into two bowls, drowning them in pasta sauce. I found the silverware and set the table. He glared at the food, slowly picking up his fork and poking the clump of pasta with a scowl. He jiggled it in the air.
"I asked for food," he deadpanned.
"Yeah, but you never asked for good food."
I held my breath when he took a bite, anxiously watching him chew. He took another bite, and then another, and continued to eat.
"How does it taste?" I asked slowly.
"Terrible."
I fought back a smile, getting used to his humor now, and began eating too.
"Is it okay if I stayed here another night? I know I've caused you enough trouble, but I don't want to go home yet," I said.
"Because you want to be with me?" He said it in such a sweet tone that I felt heat rush to my cheeks.
"No, of course not!" I stuttered. "I got into an argument with my mom last night."
"Is she the one you were arguing on the phone?"
I froze stiff. "You heard?"
"It was hard not to considering how loudly you were yelling."
I sunk in my seat, wanting to disappear.
"You can stay the night," Ivan said.
"Really?"
"Really."
I stared at him and sighed.
"What?" he asked.
"I don't really understand you. One minute you're making fun of me and slamming me against lockers, and then the next, you save me from dark alleys and let me stay at your place. Am I supposed to consider you as a friend or an enemy?"
He looked at me with those deep grey eyes that could hold the secrets of the universe.
"Neither."