The Tutor's Temptation (English Edition)

Math and Doodles (Xena's Pov)

"Miss Xena... dinner is getting cold and your father is asking why you’ve locked yourself in here for three hours."

I didn't answer my yaya immediately. I was too busy staring at my bedroom ceiling, my heart performing a frantic percussion solo against my ribs. I wanted to scream into my silk pillow. I wanted to do a victory lap around my walk-in closet. But mostly, I wanted to vanish into my duvet and pretend that yesterday’s session had never happened.

The dare. The kiss on the cheek. It was supposed to be a joke, a way to puncture that titanium-clad professional armor Kyle wore like a second skin. It was harmless... right? Then why did it feel like I had accidentally set off a thermal detonator in the middle of our study room?

I could still see it in slow motion. The way his eyes had shot open, that split-second freeze where he looked like a statue caught in a lightning storm, and the sheer, unadulterated silence that followed. He hadn't yelled. He hadn't told me to never do it again. He had just... stared. And that unreadable poker face was ten times more agonizing than a lecture. It meant I had no idea if he was thinking about me, or if I was just another line item in his busy schedule.

"I'll be down in a minute!" I finally yelled back, hurriedly snapping my notebook shut.

I wasn't actually doing my economics reviewer. Instead, I was deep in the throes of a much more dangerous project: a secret story about a certain Mr. Serious. It was pathetic, I knew. But instead of supply and demand curves, my pages were filled with descriptions of a tutor who hid his smiles behind textbooks and a rival who made me hate studying but desperately want to win his respect.

Writing was the only place I could admit the truth. He was inside my head, and if I didn't get him out onto paper, I was going to lose my mind.

"The strict tutor who doesn’t know he’s already the hero of my story," I whispered to the empty room, feeling a blush creep up my neck. "How did I let this happen?"

"Ready for today’s lesson... or are we planning to spend another hour discussing incentives and dares?"

I looked up from my seat in the study room the next afternoon. Kyle was standing there, looking annoyingly put-together in a crisp button-down shirt that screamed 'corporate boardroom.' I was the total opposite in a crop top and sweatpants, looking like I had just rolled out of a very expensive bed.

"Always ready, Mr. Cat Ears," I teased, leaning my chin on my hand. "Or should I refer to you as our resident K-pop sensation today?"

I watched him closely. He didn't look at me. He opened his briefcase, busied himself with his notes, and kept his gaze fixed on anything but my face. He was avoiding eye contact.

Oh. My. God. He was flustered.

The realization hit me like a shot of pure espresso. The dare had actually worked. The genius professor, the man who could solve complex equations in his sleep, was actually rattled by a simple kiss on the cheek from a 'lazy' heiress.

"Focus, Xena," he said, his voice flat, though I noticed the slight tremor in his hand as he uncapped his pen. "We have a lot of ground to cover before the midterms."

"Awww, are you feeling shy, Kyle? Don't worry, it was just a game," I purred, leaning forward until I was nearly in his personal space. "Unless... you’re still thinking about it? Is it playing on a loop in that big brain of yours?"

He didn't answer, but the muscle in his jaw tightened so hard I thought it might snap. Jackpot.

"Let's move on to game theory," he muttered, finally looking at the board but still not at me. "Specifically, the Nash Equilibrium. Do you recall the definition from yesterday?"

"I recall a lot of things from yesterday," I countered, scribbling a doodle of him in his cat ears in the margin of my notebook. "But please... refresh my memory."

"Xena... you aren't listening to a single word I’m saying, are you?"

I jumped, my pen skidding across the page. I had been so lost in my own world... drawing a scene of us laughing together and writing a snippet of dialogue that was definitely not about economics... that I hadn't realized he had stopped talking.

"I am listening!" I lied, trying to look busy. "Nash equilibrium... it's about... people making choices?"

Kyle narrowed his eyes, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Notebook. Now."

My blood ran cold. I slammed the cover shut, my hands trembling. "No! Get your own!"

"Xena, if you’re struggling with the notes, I need to see where the gap in your understanding is," he said, reaching across the table.

"It’s private! You can’t just take it!" I stood up, holding the notebook to my chest, but he was faster. He was taller, stronger, and far more determined.

In one swift motion, he bypassed my defense and snagged the book from my hands. He held it up high, out of my reach, while I hopped around him like a desperate puppy.

"Seriously, Xena? What are you hiding in here? Secrets of the Voltaire empire?" He looked amused for a split second, but then he opened the first page.

Time froze. The air in the library became heavy and still. I watched the transformation on his face... from annoyance to curiosity, and then finally, to complete, stunned shock. He was staring at the words I had written.

The strict tutor who hides his heart... the boy with the sharp eyes who sees all my weaknesses.

"Kyle... give it back. Please," I whispered, my voice cracking. I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole. I wanted to teleport to another planet.

He didn't say a word. He just kept reading, his eyes moving slowly across the ink-stained pages of my secret heart.

"Is this... is this how you see me?"

"I-I just... it’s nothing, okay? It’s just a silly hobby... a way to pass the time."

I was practically vibrating with humiliation. I waited for the lecture. I waited for him to tell me that this was unprofessional, that I was being childish, that he was here to teach me math, not to be the leading man in my teenage fantasies.

But Kyle didn't do any of those things. He slowly closed the notebook. He didn't hand it back immediately. Instead, he looked at me with an expression I had never seen before. It wasn't cold. It wasn't academic. It was... intense.

"Nothing?" he repeated, his voice low and gravelly. "You call this 'nothing,' Xena? You’ve written three chapters about a man who sounds a lot more interesting than I am."

"I was just... practicing my creative writing," I stammered, looking at my shoes.

He stepped closer, the notebook still held in his hand. For a moment, the space between us felt like a vacuum, pulling us together. I could feel the heat radiating from him. I could see the way his eyes searched mine, looking for the girl who wrote those words.

"Study first," he said suddenly, his voice returning to its professional clip as he handed the book back to me. "Write later. We still have fifteen minutes of the session left."

He turned back to the board as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn't just read my soul. But I saw the way his hand lingered on the table. I saw the way he cleared his throat three times before he could speak again.

"Now... about the prisoner’s dilemma," he started, but his heart wasn't in it.

"Kyle... are you mad at me?"

"I’m not mad, Xena... I’m just trying to figure out how to be the person you wrote about."

The confession hung in the air, heavier than any economic theory. I stared at his back, my heart doing a slow, heavy roll in my chest. He didn't turn around. He just stood there, staring at the whiteboard as if the answers were written in the dry-erase ink.

"You don't have to be anyone else," I said softly, stepping toward him. "I like the version of you that calls me out on my laziness. I like the version that wears cat ears and sings K-pop just to make a point."

He finally turned, and the look in his eyes made my knees go weak. It was a look of pure, unadulterated longing, masked by years of discipline.

"I’m your tutor, Xena," he reminded me, though it sounded more like he was reminding himself. "Your father would have me blacklisted from every university in the country if he knew what was happening in this room."

"My father wants me to be happy," I countered, my voice growing bolder. "And for the first time in a long time... I actually am. Even when I’m failing calculus."

He let out a short, breathy laugh, his hand reaching out as if to touch my hair before he caught himself and pulled back.

"We should finish the lesson," he said, but he didn't move toward the books.

"The lesson can wait, Kyle... don't you think?"