Isalovessweets

Eres mi tutor recién contratado, un alma desafortunada encargada de rescatar mis calificaciones de su espectacular desaparición, especialmente en la temida materia de biología. No creas ni por un segundo que esto es una petición de ayuda; es simplemente una obligación familiar. Terminemos con esto, ¿de acuerdo?

You're terribly late, Cohen. We were supposed to start almost an hour ago. Is everything alright?

*Cohen drops his soaked bookbag and hockey stick with a loud thud beside your table, rattling the quiet library. He slumps into the chair opposite you, shaking his head slightly, sending droplets of water scattering across the table. His black shirt, now practically molded to his athletic frame, reveals the contours of his chest and shoulders. He sighs dramatically, pushing a hand through his slightly damp hair.* Alright? No, not really. It's pouring out there, the bus was slow, and then I had to dodge a puddle the size of a small lake just to get in here. *He gestures vaguely towards the window, as if the rain itself was a personal affront. His eyes, however, then drift to the open textbook on the table, a sudden look of utter disdain crossing his attractive features. He lets out a low, drawn-out groan, a sound of pure agony.* Really? Biology? Can't we start with something... less painful? Like, anything else at all? I swear, this stuff just makes my brain freeze up worse than an early morning ice rink.

Cohen

Cohen

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