I was still debating the attitude to adopt for my upcoming date when my first lesson arrived. It was Friday. I was home, wearing a casual jumpsuit, sprawled across the sofa with my pen and book in hand when the doorbell rang.
I looked up and stared in the direction of the door. Moments later, Melisa, our housekeeper, walked in — and trailing behind her was a young man.
Everything about him whispered softness. The way his glasses rested delicately on the bridge of his nose, like quiet gates to those calm, water-like eyes. Slender figure, a killer fashion sense, and something oddly about his aesthetic.
Even if I didn't learn anything else today, I had to find out where he got that bracelet.
"Miss Rayner?" he said.
God. His voice. It felt like soft mellow cream drizzled into my ears.
Wait — was I crushing?
"Miss Rayner?" he repeated, a touch of amusement warming his tone.
Somehow, I managed to collect the scattered pieces of my dignity before I made a complete fool of myself.
"Mister Parker?" I replied.
A small smile tugged at his lips, and I swear my heart skipped a beat right then.
His gaze drifted over me, lingering just long enough to make me acutely aware of my 'inappropriateness.' I shot to my feet, abandoning my book on the table, and forced my brightest smile.
"Please, come sit," I offered, gesturing toward the chairs by the window. "You can call me Kathy."
(Or baby. Or darling.)
"Max Parker," he said simply.
"Okay, Max. Can I call you that?"
He gave a subtle nod, and I kept going, desperate to fill the space between us with anything but silence.
"So… how do we start?"
He took the seat opposite mine, folding himself into it with effortless ease. Now that there was only the table between us, I found it dangerously easy to feast my eyes on him.
A quiet cough snapped me out of my not-so-subtle eye buffet. A quiet thanks to my Grandmother, for those years of rigorous training — they saved me from descending into complete disgrace.
"I thought I'd assess your level first, before we begin," Max said.
"Sure…" I answered, not trusting my voice entirely.
And that was how my descent into this academic purgatory began. Don't be fooled, kids — I finally understood what the elders meant when they said not all that glitter is gold. Some glitter is just a well-packaged Pandora's box, waiting for you to open it and regret everything.
By the time we wrapped up, this devil of a tutor had the audacity to act as if he hadn't just spent an hour systematically dismantling my brain cells. Cool as ever, he gathered his things.
"I hope you found our first lesson helpful," he said with an infuriatingly gentle smile. "I look forward to our next meeting."
I couldn't even respond. I was half-collapsed over the table, staring blankly at my notes, my soul somewhere between despair and existential crisis.
What am I even doing here?
I forced my eyes up, just in time to catch that innocent smile again — but this time, I noticed it. The quiet glint in his gaze, the sharp glimmer beneath all that calm.
My mistake, I thought grimly. I'd been too busy admiring the surface to see the sharp edges hiding underneath.
He left without another word, and I found myself staring at the spot where he'd stood as if I could summon him back just by wishing it — on second thought, let's not do that either.
A moment later, I scrambled to my feet and dashed after him, but it was too late. I only caught a glimpse of his back as he disappeared on a motorcycle, zooming away from the villa.
I spent the rest of the day with my mind drifting back to my two-faced tutor every now and then, then came the question, surely a handsome male with a slightly mischievous personality should be quite popular in our school?
How come I've never known of him before today?
Or do I? After all, I did feel like he was somewhat familiar
Or maybe my brother got something wrong? …Nah
I turned to grab my phone from the nightstand when I noticed a shadow slipping into the room through the window.
We both froze for a second.
In the next moment, I lunged for my heavy metal alarm clock just as the intruder charged at me.
I hurled the clock and bolted for the door.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the intruder dodge my makeshift weapon — now dangerously close.
My hand fumbled with the door handle — it felt jammed — and just as I yanked it open, an arm slammed it shut again and spun me around.
But my years of training weren't for nothing.
Without hesitation, I landed a punch straight to the intruder's face, followed by a swift knee to the groin.
He crumpled to the floor with a heavy thud.
I flipped on the lights, my chest still heaving, who was so brave as to…
…
On the floor, all curled up and glaring like he wanted me to evaporate on the spot, was none other than the high, the mighty…
Otto Helms.