“Morning, Kian,” I said, smiling at him as I organised the math worksheets for the morning lesson.

“Morning,” he replied, shifting on his feet like he wanted to tell me something. “Wankers!”

“How are you?”

“I’m good, really good. I was up half the night reading the book I got yesterday. I think I’m in poetry love.”

I smiled, making a mental note to recommend similar poets to him. I’d officially found his sweet spot. “I take it you’re now a fully-fledged Eliot fan.”

He nodded. “Pretty sure my next tattoo is going to be a quote of his.”

“Oh,” I sat up straighter, interested because I was also a big fan, “which one?”

Kian rubbed at his lips. “Hmm. It’s a toss-up between ‘There will be time. There will be time’ and the last verse of The Hollow Men.”

“Ah! The one I quoted to you yesterday? That’s my favourite, too.”

We both shared a smile before a shadow fell over my table, and I glanced up to see Stu had arrived.

“Hey Stu! Fuck! How’s it going?” Kian greeted him.

“All good, buddy,” Stu replied and turned his attention to me as Kian went over to chat with a few other students.

I cleared my throat. “I have your folder here, the one you asked for yesterday.”

Stu glanced over at Kian, who was now out of earshot, then back to me. “Goth boy’s got a crush on you.”

I sputtered a laugh. “Who?”

“Kian. He likes you. Can’t you tell?”

“You’re imagining things,” I said, handing him the folder. “I’m old enough to be his . . . older sister.”

Stu chuckled. “Older sisters are hot. And I’m not imagining things. It’s actually pissing me off if I’m honest.”

“Oh yes, because being hot for teacher is your thing, right?” I joked. “Wouldn’t want anyone stealing your thunder. Honestly, Stu, you can drop the act now. It’s getting old.” Even as I said it I wasn’t sure if I believed it. The way he looked at me said he was attracted, but that could be faked, right?

“Oh Andrea, there’s so much you’re gonna learn,” said Stu in a low, sexy voice.

I focused on the papers I was organising, trying to ignore the shiver his words induced. “Fine. Don’t drop the act then. It’s your own time you’re wasting.”

He didn’t respond, just kept on staring at me in a heated way that made my shirt feel too tight. The tension had me rambling. “I mean, honestly, we’re basically the same age. It’s not like there’s even a taboo. This isn’t high school. You’re not a seventeen-year-old girl and I’m not an attractive twenty-something male history teacher.”

“No, I’m a thirty-year-old ex-convict and you’re an attractive twenty-something adult education teacher. Still feels like a sexy taboo to me,” he said with a wink and a smirk. I decided I’d already indulged this line of conversation far longer than I should have and stayed quiet.

Stu took the folder back to his desk, and it was moments like these where I questioned my decision to seat him so close to me. To the front of the classroom. Only three feet away . . . from me. Shit. I really needed some distance between us or I was going to spontaneously combust. Watching him out of the corner of my eye, I saw him flick through the pages and wondered if he’d ever be brazen enough to use my email for a non-class related subject. Was there a part of me that wanted him to . . .?

Nope, not going there.

Once everybody had arrived, I stood to give the class a quick lesson in basic algebra. Mathematics wasn’t a main component of the course, as it was more literature and history based, but I did like to at least touch on everything to round out the experience. I handed out some worksheets, and they were all quiet as they completed it. I noticed even Stu was busy. It didn’t last long though, and after only a minute or two he set his pencil down and pushed the worksheet aside.

I glanced at him, asking quietly, “Is everything okay? Do you need me to go over the equation with you again?”

Stu shook his head. “Nah, I’m finished.”

“You finished the entire worksheet?” I asked, my mouth falling open slightly. It typically took students twenty to thirty minutes to answer all ten questions.

“Yeah, no offence but it was a piece of piss.”

“Are you for real?” Susan whispered from the desk next to Stu’s. “I’m only on question two.”

Stu shrugged. “I’m good at this sort of thing.”

Susan shot him a jealous look then turned back to her own work. I rose from my seat and went to collect Stu’s worksheet. I felt him watching as I scanned the paper, stunned to find he was telling the truth. He’d completed the entire thing in less than five minutes and every single answer was correct.

“Have you taken any maths lessons before?” I asked and he shook his head.

“No, I’m mostly self-taught, but honestly, that worksheet is kids’ stuff. Why don’t I give you something harder? Sorry, I mean, why don’t you give me?” he replied, a grin on his face like he was baiting me.

I didn’t rise to the innuendo, though it did make my mind momentarily wander. I imagined that had been his intention. Instead I went back to my desk and rifled through my drawer for a new worksheet, this one containing some fairly difficult quadratic equations.

I handed it to him and he gave a little scoff as if to say, this all you got? Ignoring his attitude, I went and sat down again, all the while watching him work out of the corner of my eye. If anything, I was fascinated, especially considering how he used to do illegal accounts. If I could just get him to use his skill in a more productive way, there was no limit to what he could achieve after the course ended.

Again he finished in record time and again I was flabbergasted by the accuracy of his work. Not a single answer wrong. Had I just found Stu’s subject? The only problem with him having a talent for equations was that I wasn’t equipped to teach him anything more than the basics. He was clearly on another level and would need someone more adept at the subject in order to be properly challenged.

An idea niggled at me. My dad was a mathematics professor at King’s College here in London. I knew that if I asked him he’d be more than happy to tutor Stu after hours . . . but did I want to introduce him to my dad? For some reason it felt like a step too far. Too personal.