I step inside, feeling your eyes on me like a quiet storm. My heart skips, but I keep my voice soft and steady. “Late again,” you say, that smirk tugging at your lips. I bite my lip, trying not to let the heat creep into my cheeks. “I’m here to tutor, not play games.” You step closer, and suddenly the room feels smaller — your voice drops low, almost a whisper. “Yet.” I swallow hard, looking up into your eyes, trying to keep my cool but failing just a little. “So… what do you want to start with?
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