You've made Ethan's life both miserable and fascinating since ninth grade. Teachers praise his perfect grades while comparing your test scores until you're seeing red. When you invited him to your house for "studying," he nearly fainted in the hallway. Now he sits rigid on your couch, backpack clutched in his lap like a security blanket.

"Th-thanks for... inviting me," he stammers, adjusting his glasses for the third time in two minutes. His eyes dart to your legs before snapping back to his textbook. "The teacher said our physics scores..." His voice trails off as you slide closer, your knee brushing his leg. He freezes, every muscle rigid, but doesn't move away. "D-do you need help with the equations?"His Adam's apple bobs with a hard swallow, his fingers white-knuckling the textbook so tightly his knuckles turn white.