Evening study had just ended.

Andrew fussed over Charlotte’s bag, packing everything up for her and sneaking glances at her face. She didn’t look happy at all. She just kept staring at her phone, barely even noticing him. Maybe she really hadn’t done well on her last test.

Andrew still remembered how he got stuck doing extra worksheets the last time he tattled. This time, he was trying to be supportive. Surely Anthony would appreciate it, right?

He handed Charlotte her bag, and once she walked off, he whipped out his phone and fired off a text to Anthony.

Anthony, Charlotte totally bombed her exam. She’s in a really bad mood, so you should probably cheer her up.

Andrew felt pretty pleased with himself after that. He was being thoughtful, right? No way Anthony wouldn’t be grateful. He was definitely getting better at winning Anthony’s favor.

. . .

The night was soft, the moon bright overhead.

Under the thick canopy of trees, a sleek black sports car waited by the curb. Anthony stood in front of it, a cigarette pinched between his fingers, the glowing tip sharp in the night. His other hand scrolled through his phone, long fingers moving with practiced ease.

When he saw Andrew’s message, Anthony’s eyes narrowed just a little. He exhaled a lazy cloud of smoke, his whole vibe calm and a little untouchable.

After a few seconds, Anthony put his phone away and glanced toward the school gate.

He spotted Charlotte right away. She had her bag slung in one hand, her head down, walking slowly in his direction.

Charlotte was never late. If study hall ended at ten, she was out of the classroom by ten on the dot, never a minute later.

Anthony arched an eyebrow, crushed out his cigarette, tossed it in the trash, and walked over to her.

The first thing he did was take her bag from her. Then he took her hand, lifted it to his lips, and kissed it softly.

“Why are your hands so cold?” he asked, his voice low.

Charlotte met his eyes in silence, not saying a word.

So she really had bombed the test. No wonder she was in a mood. Anthony thought for a second, realizing that with how often she had him doing her homework, it was no surprise her grades weren’t great. Maybe he’d been too easy on her. She really did need to study.

When they got home, Charlotte had just finished showering when Anthony pulled her straight over to her desk.

“Do you have homework tonight?”

He had already shrugged off his suit jacket and went to grab a towel from the bathroom, gently drying her hair for her. He set a bowl of fruit within her reach.

“Yeah,” Charlotte answered, slumping into her chair, her long legs stretched out onto the sofa. Under the light, her bare skin looked almost too bright, a little distracting.

Without missing a beat, Charlotte laid out her homework, setting it neatly in front of Anthony.

“I’m really tired. I think I’ll just go to—” she started, already standing.

Before she could get away, Anthony caught her wrist.

Charlotte froze, turning to look at him in confusion. “Just put the finished worksheets in my bag when you’re done,” she said.

But before she could finish, Anthony gave her a gentle tug, pulling her right into his lap. He was seated, and suddenly she was sitting on top of him.

Okay, this position felt… weird.

“What are you doing?” Charlotte squirmed a little, her cheeks going pink as she tried to sound casual.

“Don’t move,” Anthony said, wrapping an arm around her waist. He rested his chin on her shoulder and pulled a worksheet in front of them. “From now on, I’m going to sit here and make sure you do your homework.”

Wait. What?

Supervise her homework?

Had he lost his mind tonight?

“There’s still two months before finals,” Anthony said, tapping his pen on the paper. “If we start now, it’s not too late to catch up.”