Mary folded her arms and levelled him with a hard stare. “No, but you’re getting it. We’re all looking forward to a nice day out and you’re being a moody little prick. Seriously, if you were my son I’d give you a good clip around the ear.”

“Mary,” I said in reprimand, and she shot me a look that said, he was asking for it.

Stu’s lips twitched, and I couldn’t tell if he was going to laugh or say something unkind. In an effort to quell the tension, I stood and gestured for him to follow. “Come with me. I need a word.”

He followed me to the end of the carriage, where there were less passengers and we could have a private conversation. Several of my students watched us curiously, but I wasn’t worried about them becoming suspicious because I often spoke in private with class members when they were having issues or acting out of turn.

I gestured for him to sit before taking the seat next to him.

“What’s going on with you?” I asked, eyeing him in concern. “You’ve been behaving differently.”

He folded his arms, kicking his legs out and crossing one ankle over the other. “Been keeping my head down. Something wrong with that?”

“Not at all, but you aren’t just keeping your head down. You’ve been gloomy. Are you sure there isn’t something that’s been bothering you?”

Stu plastered on a fake smile. “Nothing at all, Miss Anderson.”

I studied him then looked away. Being so close to him had me tensing, like my skin was too tight for my body. My voice was quiet when I spoke again. “I don’t believe you.”

Stu turned to face me, his eyes raking over me in a blatantly sexual manner. “You been missing my come-ons, is that it?”

My heart sank. I hated when he deflected like this, trying to make me feel uncomfortable so I’d drop the issue. I also hated that it was working. I let out a sigh, not knowing what to do with him. A few moments of quiet passed before I summoned up the courage to broach a new subject.

“How have you been finding the assignments? Any difficulties?”

His face turned hard. “Nope.”

I studied him, chewing on my lip because his refusal to discuss his problems truly bothered me. You could lead a horse to water . . . For so much potential in Stu to be untapped was beyond frustrating for me. How could he be so indifferent to wanting more for himself?

“I’ve been thinking of doing some extra tutoring sessions for those in the class who’d like to work on their grammar and writing skills. Both Susan and Mary have expressed an interest, and you’re welcome to join us,” I said, testing the waters.

“No thanks.”

“Are you sure?”

“For crying out loud, Andrea. Will you just say what you’re thinking instead of beating around the bush for once? I can’t write for shit, and my reading is even worse. I know it, and I know you know it. I just don’t care.”

What he said angered me, like really fucking pissed me off. His refusal to work, to accept an offer to grow, was a travesty against himself and I couldn’t stand it.

“You’re so . . . so difficult sometimes, do you know that?”

Strangely enough, his expression softened at my show of temper. “I told you not to waste your time on me. I’m not worth it.”

“Well, I disagree.”

“That’s only because you don’t know me.”

“I don’t know you because you keep a wall up, never letting anyone in. I see it when you interact with the others. Whenever any of them try to befriend you, you give them nothing. You don’t even talk to Kian anymore, and I can tell he’s upset by it. He likes you. I think he actually looks up to you.” It bothered me mostly because I’d witnessed him interact with his family, and although he was probably the most reserved of all his brothers, there’d been obvious warmth in him. I saw in his eyes that he loved them, that he valued their friendship, too. So I knew he was capable of being someone other than who he was right now.

Stu let out a scoff of derision. “Because I’m such a fucking role model.”

“You’re more than you think, Stu. You’re strong, striking to look at, not to mention you practically ooze cool. To a young guy like Kian, that’s everything. You should talk to him again. He probably thinks he’s done something to upset you.”

Exhaling heavily, Stu ran a hand down his face, staring out the window as blackness whizzed by. Then he turned to me again. “He’s not done anything. I’m just dealing a lot of shit right now.”

“So there is something that’s bothering you?” I said, trying to keep my voice soft and non-judgemental.

Stu’s eyes wandered back and forth between mine, the intensity in them provoking butterflies. He really was incredibly attractive. Sometimes I had to remind myself that he was my student and not some male model who’d lost his way and found himself in my adult education class.

“You never give up, do you?” he said, voice low. “Relentless.”

I blinked, about to say something in response when Mary called down from the other end of the carriage that we’d arrived at our stop.

I stood and gave Stu a serious look. “We’ll continue this another time, okay? Even when you’ve given up on yourself, I won’t give up on you.”

He seemed to grow uncomfortable at my words, staring the floor as he nodded then followed me off the train. The walk to the gallery didn’t take too long, and when we got inside I guided the class around, making stops at the paintings we’d be studying so that they got the chance to see them in the flesh.

I paused when we arrived at Leonardo Da Vinci’s Virgin of the Rocks, allowing them a moment to take it in before I gave a little background info. “This piece would’ve been completed sometime in the early sixteenth century. It shows the Madonna with an infant Jesus and John the Baptist, alongside an angel. See the wings?” I asked, pointing to the right of the painting at the figure in the blue cloak. “There are actually two versions of this piece, one here and one in the Louvre, this one being the later version. The National Gallery bought it in 1880, and it has been here ever since.”

I spoke enthusiastically, but I could still see a few of my students weren’t really interested, while others, notably the older ones, were paying avid attention. Often it was difficult to convince my younger students to appreciate art unless there was some kind of nudity involved. It seemed an arse or a pair of boobs would always garner an audience, no matter if the picture was hundreds of years old.