ADRIAN
I step into the study room ten minutes late, the door creaking as I pushed it open. She is already there, sitting at the center table with her books spread out like she was prepping for a thesis defense.
“VIP tutoring, huh?” I toss my bag on the chair and flash a smirk. “Didn’t know I rated this kind of service.”
Iris doesn’t even look up. “You’re late.”
“I’m charming. It balances out.”
She glances at me then, her expression dry. “Charm doesn’t decode Caravaggio."
“Shame.” I pull out the chair opposite her and drop into it, kicking my legs up on the table. “So, how does this work? You lecture me, I pretend to listen, and we both pretend this isn’t weird?”
She pushes my legs off the table with one firm shove. “We start with your last test paper. You got a twenty-three. Out of
