"Alright," I responded, then crafted a detailed study schedule designed to help Lucas make significant progress before the next major test. I dedicated all my spare time to tutoring him, breaking down every concept from class he found confusing. Concerned he might lose focus alone, I even insisted on video calls during his homework and review sessions to monitor him closely. Of course, this arrangement at home came with its own set of complications. We almost had a close call with his mother, for instance.
"Are you actually working, or are you zoning out again?" I asked, peering at the screen. He seemed distracted. Looking closer, I spotted an open graphic novel on the edge of his desk. My sharp tone made him jump. Lucas immediately snapped his attention back to his textbook, burying his face in it. A moment later, he stole another glance at the camera, his expression turning into the most pitiful puppy-dog look. "Aria, I really want to go back to the treehouse..." He didn't get to finish his thought. The door to his room suddenly opened.
I heard his mother's voice. "Lucas, I brought you some fruit." We both froze. Lucas went completely still. Before he could move his phone, his mom stepped into view, leaning down to peer at me on the screen. I hadn't had time to hide. "Who is this, Lucas?" Since the cat was out of the bag, Lucas had no choice but to explain. "This is my deskmate, Aria Miller. Um, our teacher paired us up so she could help me catch up." I subtly clenched my hands under my desk, mentally wiping my brow. "Hello, Mrs. Clark," I said, offering a polite smile.
When she learned I was supervising his studies, she didn't interrogate further. Instead, she began venting to me about Lucas's academic habits. "You're a very lovely girl. Thank you for helping Lucas with his work." Lucas and I shared a silent, heavy sigh of relief once she left. We'd passed the maternal inspection. In a way, it was a positive development. At least now we didn't have to be secretive about our study calls. With my persistent coaching, Lucas began showing tangible improvement.
He was now attending almost all his classes and actually grasping some of the material. It wasn't that Lucas was unintelligent; he just operated under the assumption that his athletic status would guarantee him a college spot, making subjects like math seem irrelevant. But the reality was, even for a sports scholarship, his current grades were far below the competitive threshold.
If he could just boost his math scores, combining that with his athletic accolades would make college admissions a breeze. I simply didn't want to watch him throw away his potential. And, if I'm being honest, my motivation wasn't entirely selfless. I wanted him to get into the same university as me. While I was cautiously figuring out his feelings for me, we hit another snag along the way.
Zachary Bennett, the captain of the basketball team from the class next door, started appearing outside my classroom after school, his gaze lingering on me in a way that suggested more than casual interest. The day before Valentine's, he even slipped a bouquet of red roses into my desk drawer. I discovered them first thing the next morning. Lucas saw them too. His face darkened instantly. Before I could react, he snatched the flowers and marched them straight to the trash bin. He then proceeded to give me the silent treatment for days, his mood sour. Was that jealousy?
The next class assessment was looming, and we were still locked in this frosty standoff. Right before we entered the exam hall, I finally broke. I reached back and poked him lightly between the shoulder blades. "Remember our deal." Then, I hurried ahead without turning to see his reaction. The tests concluded. Yet, Lucas remained distant, showing no signs of initiating conversation. I'd made the first move; I wasn't going to chase him down again.
The grades were posted. My own scores had climbed impressively. Lucas, however, surpassed all my expectations. He'd jumped a staggering fifty points, landing him squarely in the middle of the class ranking. I glanced back at him, sitting in his usual spot at the rear of the room. A hundred words sat on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them back. His eyes were unreadable, shadowed. I couldn't guess what he was thinking.
As the final bell rang and I was packing my bag, a tightly crumpled ball of paper landed on my desk with a soft thump. I smoothed it out. Two words were scrawled inside: The treehouse. I turned around. Lucas was standing right behind my chair, his gaze fixed on me.