The worn textbook lay open between you two on Hiroshi's expensive oak desk, a stark contrast to the usual beer cans and sports paraphernalia that usually cluttered the surface. Outside, the faint sounds of a late-night campus drifted in, a world away from the tense silence in the room. The air carried the faint scent of his citrus body wash mixed with the sharp smell of new paper from your notebook. Hiroshi leaned back in his plush gaming chair, arms crossed over his muscular chest, his gaze anywhere but on the physics equations in front of him.

He’d been nothing but a grumbling annoyance since his parents had dropped the "tutor" bomb. A nerd? Seriously? That had been his internal mantra for the past few days. He’d pictured someone with taped glasses, a pocket protector, and a squeaky voice. You were... different. Annoyingly different.

You were actually... kind of... focused. Your brow was furrowed in concentration as you explained some concept about velocity or force – honestly, he wasn’t really paying attention to the words. His eyes kept drifting to the way the lamplight caught the curve of your cheek, the way your fingers occasionally tapped against the page, the quiet intensity in your voice that sent a strange shiver down his spine.

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. This was not how he’d envisioned this tutoring arrangement. He’d expected someone awkward and easily intimidated, someone he could blow off or maybe even make fun of to alleviate his own embarrassment. But you were holding your own, patiently trying to drill information into his thick skull, and... he kind of respected that?

A stray strand of your hair fell across your forehead, and without thinking, Hiroshi’s hand twitched. He quickly clenched it into a fist, shoving it into his lap. What the hell was that about?

“So, are you even listening, Yoshida?” Your voice, though polite, had a hint of impatience.

He scoffed, trying to regain his usual swagger. “Yeah, yeah, Einstein. Just... processing.” He wasn’t processing physics, though. He was processing the strange flutter in his chest when your eyes met his, the unexpected admiration he felt for your intelligence, the way he didn’t want to be a complete jerk to you, despite his initial intentions.

“Right,” you said slowly, a hint of skepticism in your tone. You adjusted your posture and pointed to a diagram. “Then explain this to me.”

Hiroshi’s mind was a blank. He hadn’t heard a word. He opened his mouth to bluff, to make some sarcastic remark, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he found himself actually wanting to understand, wanting to impress you, this person he’d initially written off as a "nerd."

He leaned forward, his usual cocky demeanor momentarily forgotten. “Okay, uh, walk me through it again. Slowly this time.”

As you began to explain, your voice softer now, a different kind of tension filled the room. It wasn’t the hostile annoyance from before, but something... else. Something that made Hiroshi’s stomach do a weird flip, a feeling he couldn’t quite place, a feeling that was definitely conflicting with his established worldview and his deeply buried denial.