Maxwell did not show up for two days.
And yeah, I was checking my phone. I kept opening our last text thread like maybe I had somehow missed a message, even though I knew damn well I had not. Left on read. No update. No new plan. Just me sitting in my kitchen, staring at a pile of chemistry notes, stewing in my own frustration and maybe something else I did not want to name yet.
I was the one who did not even want a tutor.
Now I was pissed he was not here.
I had not told anyone what happened during our last session. Mostly because I was not even sure how to explain it. A moment? A shift? A slow-burn stare-down across a tutor-student line that should not have been crossed? Yeah. That. Whatever it was, I knew it had been real. Because it was not just me. He felt it too.
And then he vanished.
So when the doorbell rang on Thursday night, I made him wait a second. Just to make a point. When I finally opened the door, there he was...Maxwell, standing like nothing had happened, coffee cup in hand, button-down ironed, hair all neat and teacher-perfect. His sleeves were rolled just enough to show off his forearms. He looked clean, composed, like the same guy who had stared at my mouth too long just days ago and then bolted.
“Evening,” he said, calm as ever.
“Wow,” I said, stepping back. “Look who remembered he is my tutor.”
Maxwell gave me this small, measured smile. Barely there. “You didn’t confirm.”
“You said Thursdays.”
He walked inside without waiting for more.
I shut the door behind him and stayed leaning against it, arms crossed. He moved through the space like he had never left. Unpacked his bag. Opened his laptop. Flipped through his notes like we had a test tomorrow and not unresolved tension hanging in the air like heat.
He did not look at me. Not even once.
“Nice to see you, by the way,” he said, still not looking up.
“Don’t make it weird.”
“Evan,” he said with a sigh, “it’s not weird.”
That made me laugh, quick and sharp. “Right. So ghosting your student and showing up like nothing happened is just your normal?”
He ignored that. Pushed the notebook across the table. “Sit down.”
I did. Eventually. And we tried to pretend we were normal again.
He started explaining some formula I could not care less about. His voice was fast, his hands clicking the pen, flipping through pages like he was in a race against something. Like if he just kept talking fast enough, he could outrun what we were both thinking about.
I leaned in closer than necessary. Let my knee bump his under the table. Watched his eyes flick to my mouth and then snap back to the book like it did not happen.
“So,” I said, casual as hell, “you were just busy? Or avoiding me?”
“I wasn’t avoiding you,” he said, flipping another page.
“You kissed me with your eyes and then disappeared. Sounds like avoidance.”
His pen paused. His jaw ticked. Then his eyes lifted, slow and steady. “What do you want me to say?”
I shrugged. “Maybe just admit it.”
Maxwell leaned back in the chair. Exhaled through his nose like he was trying to buy himself a second. “We should not even be having this conversation.”
“Too bad we are.”
He rubbed his forehead, glasses sliding slightly down his nose. “Evan.....”
“I think you wanted to kiss me.”
That got him. His body stilled. His fingers froze around the pen. But he did not deny it. And he did not look away.
“I think you wanted to kiss me,” I repeated, softer now, leaning forward again, “and now you don’t know what to do with that.”
“You are my student.”
“So?”
“You are twenty.”
“And?”
“You are... you.”
That made me grin. “That’s the problem?”
He did not say anything. Just stared at me like I was dangerous and he hated how much he wanted to touch the fire anyway.
It got quiet. Not awkward. Just charged. Thick with everything neither of us was saying.
I shifted a little, enough that our legs stayed touching. He did not move. Not away, at least.
And then I stood up, walked to the kitchen like I needed something to do with my hands. I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, unscrewed the cap, and leaned against the counter like I was fine. Like I was not buzzing under my skin.
I looked back at him.
He was watching me. Still seated. Still tense. Still trying to pretend this was not killing him a little.
“I don’t usually like being told what to do,” I said, drinking slow.
He blinked once.
“So if you wanna leave,” I said, lowering the bottle, “you probably should.”
“I didn’t say I was leaving.”
“Then stop acting like you’re two seconds from running.”
That hit. I saw it.
He stood up, deliberate and slow, like he was afraid to move too fast. His eyes stayed locked on mine, full of heat and hesitation.
I set the bottle down and walked back toward him. The air between us got tighter with every step.
We stopped just a breath apart.
“Tell me you didn’t think about it,” I said. “Since Monday.”
His voice came low. Honest. “I did.”
That made my chest hitch. Not from surprise. From the way it sounded. Like confession. Like surrender.
“And I’ve been thinking about it ever since,” he added.
I did not give him time to change his mind.
I stepped in and kissed him.
He tasted like coffee and hesitation. His mouth was soft at first, like he was trying to keep it gentle, keep it safe. But then I opened my lips against his, and something in him gave. One hand landed on my chest, the other curling around my neck, pulling me closer.
We stumbled slightly, bumping into the chair. I gripped his waist. His fingers tightened.
It was hot. Fast. Messy. All that pent-up energy crashing in.
He kissed like someone who had been holding back for a long time and finally stopped.
But it did not last.
He pulled away, breath ragged, eyes wide. Like he could not believe what just happened.
“I can’t,” he said, stepping back.
My chest dropped. “Why not?”
“Because if I stay, I’ll forget why I shouldn’t.”
He looked like he wanted to say more. Like he wanted to stay.
But he didn’t.
He turned. Grabbed his bag. Walked out the door again. No goodbye.
Just gone.
And I was left standing there, lips still tingling, heart still thudding, wondering how something could feel so damn good and still hurt this much.
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