ᨳଓ . tutor!rafe helps mouthy!reader with math
rafe playfully tossed the textbook at your stomach at the sight of your math test—a c- after two months of practice. the action made you let out a slight, sharp yelp.
"ugh, be serious, i need help—you promised," you whined petulantly, jutting out your bottom lip at the gesture.
he smirked, rolling his eyes. "i don't get you. i've been working my ass off tryna get you to actually learn, and it's like nothin' gets into that pretty head of yours." he tapped your forehead for added effect.
in response, you swatted his hand away. "paws off, rafey," you exclaimed, clicking your tongue, shaking your head, and opening your textbook.
"you're clearly not doing your job right, mr. smarty pants," you mocked, lips curled into a grin he recognized all too well. lord, how unserious you were. yet, unlike the other kids he peer tutored, you weren’t bratty or busy skipping class to join gangs.
he sighed, pulled out his phone, and opened spotify—the one app you forced him to download, wanting to "make a blend" with him, whatever that meant.
"recite the derivative of in(x) or else i’m playing that multiplication song. full blast."
you raised an eyebrow. “are you serious? we’re not in elementary school anymore.”
"as a heart attack, sweetie pie.”
you whined, racking your brain... but still nothing.
you resorted to simply biting your lip and batting your eyelashes. that had worked with all the other boys, no? but apparently, he'd had his fair share of girls like you and wasn't falling for it.
"ugh, rafe, i don't get it!" you whined, hitting your clenched fists against the pale pink blanket you two sat on.
“well then get it,” he said in a nasally imitation of your own voice.
“jesus, what kind of tutor even are you, cameron?”
“a free one that the school provided. now shut up and actually write something on the damn paper,” he said, grabbing your phone to reduce the distractions—or so he claimed.
eventually, you sighed and realized he wasn’t letting up, so you began to somehow focus. despite all the crap you gave him for “being a terrible tutor,” you were actually starting to understand the material.
but god forbid you admit that to him.
