****

By the fourth lesson, I was a mess before I even knocked on his door.

I’d spent the whole week thinking about him. Not the math, him. The way his arm felt against mine. The low sound of his voice when he praised me and the way my body reacted every time he got close. I told myself I was being stupid. He was just doing his job. But the more I tried to push the thoughts away, the stronger they got.

I wore something different this time. A short pleated skirt and a tight crop top that showed a sliver of my stomach. I never dressed like this...