School life

"Ethan! Over here!"

The golden afternoon sunlight spilled across the verdant schoolyard, where a heated basketball match was unfolding. Ethan Cross, clad in his jersey, stood just beyond the three-point line, effortlessly catching a pass from his teammate. With the agility of a prowling cheetah, he dribbled past his opponents, his movements swift and precise.

"Block him! Don't let that kid take the shot!" One of the defenders barked as two players rushed in from both sides, attempting to trap him.

A roguish smirk curled at the corner of Ethan's lips. He leaned forward slightly, feinting a move—his opponents took the bait, their weight shifting left instinctively. In that fleeting moment, Ethan spun sharply, slipping between them with ease. With a powerful push off the ground, he soared high into the air—

"Bang!"

A perfect slam dunk!

The backboard trembled violently as the crowd erupted into cheers. Several girls shrieked in excitement, hastily pulling out their phones to capture the moment.

"My god, Ethan scored again!"

"The MVP of our school team—he truly is the pride of Brentwood High!"

Some of the boys clapped enthusiastically, while others groaned in frustration, smacking their thighs in disbelief. Ethan, meanwhile, landed gracefully, wiping the sweat from his brow before casually signaling to his teammates. "Nice play. Let's keep going."

Scenes like this were a daily occurrence at Brentwood Private High School. Ethan Cross—star athlete, school legend, and the undisputed heartthrob—possessed not only striking looks but also an extraordinary talent for sports, making him the dream of countless admirers.

His academic performance, however... left much to be desired.

"Hey, Ethan, don't forget you've got math tutoring later!" A bespectacled teammate called out from the sidelines. "Professor Davis made it clear—if you fail this time, you can kiss next month's interschool tournament goodbye!"

"What?" Ethan clutched his chest in mock agony. "So cruel! Forcing a natural-born athlete to bury himself in textbooks—this is nothing short of robbing me of my soul!"

"Oh, cut it out!" His teammates laughed, giving him a playful shove. "Get going already, or your tutor's going to lose her patience!"

With a dramatic sigh, Ethan patted his friend on the shoulder, grabbed his water bottle, and strolled toward the school's main building.

Brentwood High was renowned for its rigorous academics and sky-high tuition, attracting students from affluent families. Yet among them, none commanded more attention than—Isabella Laurent.

"That concludes today's session. If you have any questions, feel free to ask me later."

In the library's study room, Isabella neatly organized her notes, her tone as calm and composed as ever. Her delicate features were accentuated by the sunlight filtering through the windows, casting soft shadows beneath her long lashes. Clad in a perfectly pressed uniform, every movement she made exuded the refined elegance of the aristocracy.

As the school's top student, Isabella was not only the embodiment of academic excellence in the eyes of professors but also the unattainable muse of countless admirers.

Yet, contrary to the typical socialite stereotype, she was... somewhat absentminded.

"Isabella, could you explain this problem to me?"

"Just substitute the values into the formula, and you'll arrive at the answer."

"Oh, I see! You're amazing!"

"However, you should focus on understanding the principles rather than merely memorizing the formulas..."

Isabella was always patient when tutoring her juniors, though her explanations sometimes moved too quickly, leaving some struggling to keep up.

"Uh… could you repeat that formula again?"

"Hm? But I just explained it, didn't I?" Isabella blinked in confusion, completely oblivious to the fact that she had already left her listener utterly bewildered.

Just then, a familiar voice drifted in from the doorway—

"Miss Laurent, showing off your genius again?"

Isabella turned, unsurprised to find Ethan standing there.

"Ethan, you finally decided to show up." She frowned, her tone less than welcoming. "Do you have any idea you're thirty minutes late?"

"Oh, don't be so rigid. Time management is my specialty." Ethan flashed his signature mischievous grin as he took a seat across from her.

"Time management? More like chronic procrastination!" Isabella shot him a glare before slamming a thick math notebook onto the table. "If you keep this up, Professor Davis is going to make you retake the entire course."

Ethan let out an exaggerated sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Why must my fate be shackled by the tyranny of mathematics…?"

"Because you spend every class sleeping!" Isabella pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation. "Here, try solving this problem first."

Ethan glanced at the notebook and scribbled down a chaotic series of calculations. Isabella studied his work for five full seconds, inhaled deeply, and then—

"Ethan, are you doing this on purpose?"

"What?"

"These calculations are an absolute mess! And… is this a physics equation? You're supposed to be solving a math problem!"

Ethan blinked innocently. "Huh? But isn't it all just numbers and symbols? How different can they be?"

Isabella buried her face in her hands, finally coming to terms with the tragic reality—his grasp of mathematics was so abysmal that he couldn't even distinguish between basic concepts.

"Forget it. I'll teach you myself..." she muttered, exasperation laced with a trace of reluctant fondness.

A small smirk played on Ethan's lips.

Perhaps, days like this weren't so bad after all.