My molars grind. “I don’t need a tutor. I’m not stupid.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid, Holden. I think you’re unfocused and unmotivated. The student I have in mind is one of the brightest I’ve ever taught. I have full confidence she’ll be able to help you manage a passing grade.”

I don’t miss the pronoun. I sigh, annoyed Mrs. Golden is insisting, but the girls at this school generally are falling all over me. If it will get Mrs. Golden to pass me and allow me to play, I can handle it. “Fine.”

The classroom door creaks open. I glance over automatically, then do a double take. Cassia gives me a small, tentative smile before shifting her gaze to Mrs. Golden. “Sorry to interrupt. I can wait in the hall.”

“No need,” Mrs. Golden says. “This is perfect. I was just letting Holden know you’ll be helping him out on the essay.”

My head whips back toward Mrs. Golden so quickly my neck cracks. “What?”

Mrs. Golden isn’t paying attention to me any longer. She’s handing Cassia a folder and pointing out lines on a document. The haze of surprise starts to lift. The papers she’s giving Cassia are the syllabus. The prompt for the paper I just got back. “…let you decide where to start,” she’s saying.

And then we’re being dismissed. Another student shows up—some wide-eyed freshman asking for help on a European history quiz.

Blindly, I follow Cassia into the hallway. It’s half-empty by now. The final bell rang about ten minutes ago. If practices had started up yet, I’d be running late.

Cassia turns to the left. Without thinking, I grab her arm, stalling her in place. She spins around, eyes wide and expression stunned.

I avoid touching her.

I have no good reason to touch her.

The last time I did…it didn’t end well.

“I don’t need help,” I tell her.

“You don’t.” She says it like a statement, not a question.

I take it as an agreement. “So…we’re good here?”

“Sure. We’ll meet in the library after school tomorrow.”

The muscles in my jaw pop and tense. “I don’t need your help.”

“Mrs. Golden obviously disagrees.”

“I didn’t want to write the paper. That doesn’t mean I can’t.”

“I don’t care.” Her hazel eyes flash with an edge of defiance Cassia rarely shows. The only times I’ve seen glimpses of it have been with me. It fucks with my head. “She asked me to help you. I said I would. I’m not lying to a teacher. And if you don’t let me help me, you’ll probably keep failing.”

“I’m not failing. I just don’t care about what happened a hundred years ago. When am I ever going to discuss the impacts of the Industrial Revolution?”