TA’s POV
The first time I noticed him, he wasn’t doing anything special.
Just sitting in the back row with a pencil between his teeth, his legs spread too wide, and that infuriating smirk that most jocks wear like it was stitched into their skin.
He never paid attention.
Never took notes.
Never once looked at me when I lectured.
But today? Today he needed something from me.
He strolled into my office fifteen minutes after hours with a fake innocent face and a backpack slung over one shoulder, like he hadn’t just bombed his midterm with a copied essay I’d flagged two days ago.
“Hey,” he said, leaning against the doorframe like the room belonged to him. “You said to come talk if I wanted to fix my grade.”
I didn’t look up right away.
Let him wait.
Made him stew in it just long eno
