You reached back for your braid, pulling it over your shoulder and fiddling with the elastic. It was a warm autumn day in Westeros, and it was even warmer inside the library at King’s High School where you sat, waiting.
Any other day, you would already be at home, having a shower, or curled up at your desk, but not today. Today, you were stuck in the library, waiting alone for the boy you were supposed to tutor. One of the boys on the football team, who was failing English.
You rolled your eyes just thinking about it. You failed to see how that was your problem, but you’d hesitantly agreed. Now, you sat alone in the thick, warm ambiance of the library. The boy, whoever he was, was over twenty minutes late.
You glanced at the clock on the wall. Another five minutes, then you would go home. Surely Mr Lannister would understand if you just explained. At that moment, the door swung open.
A boy strutted in, blue eyes scanning the room, his lips curled in a smile radiating with confidence. His dark auburn curls were damp, light stains of water on the dark blue hoodie he was wearing, and his bag was slung over one shoulder. Robb Stark.
As his eyes landed on you, he lit up with recognition and winked. You stared at him, unimpressed, as he approached.
“You’re Y/N?”
“Uh…”
“The tutor, right? I’m Robb.”
He reached out his hand and you nearly scoffed in disbelief. Like you didn’t know that?! Like any girl in a ten-kilometre radius didn’t know that.
“You’re late.” You raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, sorry about that. Coach B had us stay extra long today. I tried to tell him, but… you know.”
“Your hair is wet.”
“You’re very observant,” he teased. “And pretty.”
Your stomach turned, and you cleared your throat.
“Stop messing with me, and sit down.”
His smile dropped.
“I’m not—” he paused and pulled out the chair next to you. “What are we doing?”
You stared at him.
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah. Didn’t Mr Lannister tell you I was failing?”
You swallowed. You really couldn’t stand the football boys. They were thick as tree trunks, every one of them, but you had made a promise. 'Tutor him until Christmas.' That was the agreement.
“We’re writing essays. On overcoming adversity. Have you started yours?”
“No.”
“Alright, eh…” You felt yourself tense up with frustration. You hadn’t ever tutored before. You were used to getting instructions, used to following them, not giving them. You tried to stop your voice from shaking as Robb’s blue eyes traced over your face.
“Come up with a topic and meet me here tomorrow. Then can work on your introduction together. Just don’t be late…” You mumbled the last part.
“What about your essay?”
“I finished it last week.”
“Impressive.” You smiled, bashful. Robb grinned and grabbed his bag from the table, getting up from his seat. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N!”
“Yeah…” you mumbled as he walked away. Suddenly, you had a feeling these four months would be the longest of your life.
