Lecture Me, Please

The Six O’clock Meetups

Olivia’s POV

______

If someone had told me a week ago that I would willingly spend my evenings studying calculus with the most intense lecturer on campus, I would have laughed in their face.

Yet here I was.

It was 5:56 p.m., and I was sitting at the same table in the quiet corner of the university library, my notebook open, a sharpened pencil and a pen aligned neatly beside it.

Exactly at six o’clock, the chair across from me pulled back.

I didn’t even need to look up to know it was him.

“You’re early today,” he said, setting his laptop on the table.

Which was ironic, considering I usually arrived and found him already there.

“I didn’t want to be late.”

His eyes flicked up briefly.

“Good.”

My heart fluttered at the simple approval. That single word made me sit up a little straighter.

This had been our routine for the past week. We studied three times a week: Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday.

Most days, I arrived to find him already seated, speaking quietly on the phone about things I didn’t understand. His voice always stayed low. Once he finished the call, he would hand me a sheet of exercises to evaluate how much I actually understood about the topic, then go back to working on his laptop.

Today was no different.

He slid a paper toward me filled with derivatives and limits.

“Start with question one,” he said calmly.

Then he let me struggle.

For thirty full minutes.

Only when I was halfway through the page did he lean slightly closer and tap the notebook.

“You skipped the limit condition here.”

I sighed and erased the line.

We went on like that for two full hours.

No phones.

No small talk.

Just calculus.

Questions and solutions.

It was exhausting but refreshing at the same time.

I understood most of the concepts now, which felt like a small victory.

I was getting better.

Tonight was Wednesday—my only real free day during the week—and Thursday was packed with classes and work. All I wanted right then was to go home, eat the muffins I had baked earlier, and collapse on my bed.

“Why are you helping me, professor?” I suddenly asked.

The question slipped out before I could stop it.

His eyes lifted from the paper.

“You don’t do this for everyone. What’s the reason? Why me?”

For a moment, he studied me silently, like he was actually considering the answer.

Then he said something unexpected.

“Because you need pushing. You’re brilliant, Olivia. You just need someone to force you to use it.”

My chest tightened slightly at the words.

“Why I’m helping you,” he continued calmly, “is beyond my understanding. Unless a student comes to me first, I rarely offer assistance. But with you, I suppose I felt led. I saw something in you I rarely see in others”

I huffed a small laugh.

“That’s one way to describe me.”

“It’s an accurate one.”

We usually ended around eight or eight-thirty, but that day we had gone well past that.

I was exhausted.

As I started gathering my things, he spoke again.

“Do you want me to tutor you in any other course?”

I froze.

“What?”

“Spending three evenings a week solving calculus alone is inefficient,” he said matter-of-factly. “Are there other subjects you’re struggling with?”

This was the moment of truth.

Did I let him continue seeing me as the girl who struggled only in his class?

Or did I tell him the truth—that I had failed four courses and was barely holding my CGPA together?

My instincts told me to be honest.

So I was.

I told him everything.

About the four failed courses.

About how badly I needed good grades to raise my CGPA.

I even admitted that I was struggling with Python programming, which felt humiliating considering my major.

He listened quietly until I finished, then began speaking like someone reorganizing a schedule in his head.

“Mondays we’ll cover Algorithms and Data Structures and Linear Algebra. Wednesdays we continue with Calculus and add Python. Thursdays we’ll do Real Analysis and Network Security.”

He paused briefly.

“Tuesdays are off so you can rest. Wednesday stays because it’s your spare day and we can cover more material.”

Then he added, almost casually,

“I’ll adjust my schedule to accommodate our sessions accordingly.”

My heart softened a little at that.

All I managed to say was a quiet, slightly embarrassed, “Thank you, professor.”

***

Monday came by quickly.

Our new study plan began immediately.

Dr. Nethans broke down Algorithms and Data Structures in a way that made the entire course suddenly simple.

By the time we finished, I couldn’t help wondering how I had ever failed the course in the first place.

Tuesday was technically my rest day now, though it didn’t feel like one.

Since I didn’t have study sessions, I dedicated the time to my businesses.

There was a lot to do.

At that point, I seriously needed an assistant.

By 6 p.m., my last client arrived so I could braid her hair. She wanted stitch braids, which thankfully didn’t take long.

I was done by eight.

But that was only the beginning. I still had orders to prepare for the next day.

One of the perks of having high visibility in your business was that the money flowed in steadily.

The downside? You never had time for yourself.

Running a food business, a beauty service, and a crochet and gift shop at the same time left no room to breathe. Luckily, I only did my ghostwriting work on weekends.

It was past midnight when I finally got a break.

I grabbed my phone and started checking emails. Being somewhat of a public figure meant my inbox never really rested.

When I opened my school email, I saw something unexpected.

An email from Dr. Nethans.

It was the first time he was using my email address, so I paused for a second before opening it.

He explained that he had a meeting downtown the next day and wouldn’t be available in the evening. He asked if we could move our session to the afternoon instead. If it didn’t work for me, he said it was perfectly fine to cancel.

The message was surprisingly considerate.

I quickly replied and told him 3 p.m. worked for me.

Then I put my phone down and stared at the ceiling for a moment.

One thought crossed my mind before sleep finally pulled me under.

Since I couldn’t pay him for all the help, I could at least get him something to eat.

Or even crochet something for him.

Just to show him how grateful I was.