Chapter 2: First Lesson, First Clash

Adrian Sinclair believed in efficiency.

His life was built on structure—detailed planners, color-coded notes, and strict time management. Tutoring Liam Hunter was already an anomaly in his system, an unwelcome disruption that threatened to throw off his carefully curated routine.

But he had made a commitment.

So when Tuesday evening rolled around, Adrian arrived at the campus library ten minutes early, settling into a quiet corner. He spread out his notes, arranged his pens, and took a deep breath.

This was just another tutoring session.

He could handle this.

Then Liam arrived, and Adrian instantly regretted everything.

The campus library was nearly empty, bathed in the dim glow of old hanging lamps. Adrian had arrived early, as always, setting up his workspace with precision. Books stacked neatly, pens aligned, notes ready.

And then Liam strolled in as if he owned the place.

Dressed in his usual athletic wear, slightly sweaty from practice, he exuded effortless confidence. His duffel bag hung over his shoulder, and despite the faint exhaustion in his movements, his expression was relaxed—a lazy, almost amused smirk playing on his lips.

Adrian clenched his jaw.

He had no patience for people who didn’t take things seriously.

Liam flopped into the chair across from him, stretching like a cat. “Took me a minute to find this place,” he said, dropping his bag with a heavy thud.

Adrian glanced at the clock. Four minutes late. Unacceptable.

“You had a map,” Adrian deadpanned.

Liam’s grin widened. “Yeah, but I figured you’d be funnier if I kept you waiting.”

Adrian’s eye twitched.

“I’m not here to entertain you,” he muttered.

Liam chuckled, unbothered.

Adrian took a steadying breath and pointed at the textbook in front of them. Focus. “Open to chapter three. We’re starting with probability distributions.”

Liam groaned but complied, flipping through the pages. His fingers drummed absently against the table. “Alright, professor. Let’s do this.”

Adrian ignored the nickname and tapped the first formula with his pen. “Explain what this represents.”

Liam squinted. “Uh… numbers?”

Adrian pressed his fingers against his temple.

“This,” he said slowly, like he was explaining math to a child, “is the formula for probability mass functions. It’s essential for understanding statistical probabilities—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Liam interrupted, waving a hand. “So how does this help me in real life?”

Adrian inhaled sharply. Patience.

“If you don’t pass this class, you’ll fail, which means you’ll lose your scholarship, which means you’ll have to say goodbye to basketball,” Adrian said flatly.

Liam blinked, then let out a low whistle. “Damn. You go straight for the jugular, huh?”

Adrian shrugged. “You asked.”

Liam studied him for a moment, then leaned back in his chair. “You always this intense?”

Adrian stiffened. He wasn’t intense. He was focused.

Ignoring the question, he grabbed his notebook and flipped to a blank page. “Let’s try a problem together.”

Liam groaned but leaned in. Finally, some cooperation.

---

Liam had never liked math.

Numbers didn’t move the way a basketball did. They didn’t have rhythm, flow, or instinct. They just sat there, cold and unyielding, expecting him to figure out their secrets.

And Adrian?

Adrian was even worse than the numbers.

Liam had heard about him before—the genius, the perfectionist, the guy who had probably never gotten a B in his life. It was almost comical how serious he was. Like tutoring Liam was the worst possible fate imaginable.

Which made it even funnier to mess with him.

“Okay, next problem,” Adrian said, pushing a worksheet toward him.

Liam squinted at it. “What’s with all these symbols? Looks like a foreign language.”

Adrian’s lips pressed into a thin, unimpressed line. “It’s standard notation.”

Liam grinned. “You say that like it helps.”

Adrian exhaled through his nose. “Just solve for X.”

Liam tapped his pen against the table, pretending to think. Then he smirked. “Is it… 42?”

Adrian set his pen down very, very carefully.

Liam chuckled. “No? Alright, what about 69?”

“Hunter,” Adrian said through gritted teeth, “do you actually want to pass this class?”

Liam stretched his arms behind his head, looking far too relaxed. “Eh. I like my chances.”

Adrian rubbed his temples. He was going to have an aneurysm before this semester ended.

---

By the time they reached the one-hour mark, Adrian was exhausted.

Not mentally—no, this material was simple—but emotionally.

Liam was like a force of nature, all untamed energy and frustrating charisma. He refused to focus for more than ten minutes at a time, constantly shifting in his seat, cracking jokes, or looking at Adrian like he was some strange, fascinating puzzle.

It was infuriating.

Yet, to Adrian’s surprise, Liam actually understood some of the concepts.

Adrian had to admit—Liam wasn’t entirely hopeless.

He was frustrating, inattentive, and far too smug for someone barely grasping the basics, but he wasn’t stupid. When he actually focused, he caught on quicker than Adrian expected.

Not that Adrian would ever tell him that.

Beneath the laziness, the jokes, and the deliberately irritating attitude, Liam was smart. When he actually concentrated, he picked things up quickly.

Which made it even worse, because he wasn’t trying.

Adrian sighed, closing his notebook. “That’s enough for today.”

Liam stretched, groaning. “Damn. My brain hurts.”

Adrian rolled his eyes. “That’s what happens when you actually use it.”

Liam snorted. “Brutal, Sinclair. Absolutely ruthless.”

Adrian started packing his things, but then—Liam spoke again.

“Hey.”

Adrian looked up.

For the first time that night, Liam’s usual smirk was gone. He scratched the back of his head, almost hesitant.

“Thanks,” he muttered. “For, y’know… helping.”

Adrian blinked.

The words were so casual, so unexpected, that he didn’t quite know how to respond.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Adrian adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat. “Just don’t fail.”

Liam grinned again, like the moment of sincerity had never happened. “No promises.”

Adrian watched as Liam slung his bag over his shoulder, effortlessly confident again. He shook his head, gathering the rest of his papers.

This was going to be a long semester.