Despite Grayson's complaint that the following day marked the official start of Christmas break, Claire had heard of my offer to tutor him and requested that we start immediately.

     Homework the one thing of which Grayson lacked motivation, for once, I woke before he. Though she had just a few days ago made a remark of Grayson's need of sleep, before leaving for work, Claire requested that I wake him. She knew very well, just as I did, that Grayson had plans for the evening. It'd be best to get the studying over with, and Claire claimed that Grayson worked best in the morning. I reckoned if that were true, he wouldn't have chosen that morning as the day he got a healthy amount of sleep. She had definitely handed me a task she wished to avoid, which was immensely disconcerting. But I couldn't argue with her sweet smile. Extra glimmer of innocence behind piercing blue eyes, I cursed myself for caving so easily to the mother and son's pleas. What was it about the Ryders that made my backbone disappear?

     Acknowledging Claire's warning that Grayson was difficult to wake, warily I trudged upstairs.

     Knocking softly on his bedroom door, I called his name. No response. Oh, how naïve I had been to believe that would work.

     "Grayson." I raised my voice considerably.

     Still, I heard nothing. With a defeated grunt, carefully I entered his room. Gaze wary as I hoped he was decent, I noted the small peaking of black boxers under the blue covers pulled up to his hip, and relaxed. Torso up bare, the sunshine that peaked through his curtains bounced off his chest, further placing it on display. In an instant my face grew hot. I decided his room was the warmest in the house. He must have had an extra heating vent. That was the reason my cheeks were flushed. That or I was fevering up from our midnight dips in the freezing lake of December.

     Arm slung across his face, shielding his eyes from the bright beam escaping his window, the light I turned on had no effect.

     "Grayson," I tried again.

     He didn't even flinch. I was convinced he was messing with me. There was no way he was this deep of a sleeper.

     Stepping closer, I concluded that he was in fact sound asleep. I had had the misfortune of witnessing his acting abilities, there was no way he could feign such a restful state. Lips parted and chest rising and falling softly, he looked at such peace that I almost felt bad for waking him up. Remembering the numerous times, I suffered a rude awakening because of him, suddenly I didn't feel so guilty. I considered rummaging through his closet for the trumpet he used many weeks ago, but eyes returning to his innocent, vulnerable state, I changed my mind. I was a sucker, I know.

     Keeping my eyes on his face, refusing to let my gaze wonder below his neck, I shook him lightly, still calling his name. Shaking him more forcefully, when all I received was a small moan in response, I put my head in my hands. I was beginning to understand why Claire had rushed off to work.

     "For God's sake, Ryder! Even unconscious you're insufferable! Why—"

     Grunt of displeasure as he finally began to stir, he flipped on his side, instinctively swinging his arm towards his nightstand as if to shut his alarm. I would have celebrated the sign of consciousness had I not been stood between his arm and the silent alarm. Surprised by the force behind the swinging of his arm, I stumbled. In attempt to save myself from falling, I made the mistake of grabbing his exposed arm, and pulled him down with me. Crushing my body with his, I inhaled sharply as he was too sleepy to support his own weight. Sluggishly he held himself up on his elbows, allowing me only a very small space to breathe. Body flush against mine, still he stared at me blankly, blinking tiredly as he was slow to grasp our predicament.

     His skin warm against mine, oblivious face so close to my own, again I flushed. But I was red in the face because he had crushed my lungs. I hadn't been able to breathe; that was the only reasonable explanation. The red blotches on my face and neck had nothing to do with bed-hair falling into sparkling eyes, nor the toned torso against my blue, cotton pyjamas.

     Blank stare eventually vanishing, he fully took in our positions, eyes starting on mine and landing on our nearly aligned toes. He frowned deeply.

     "Um... What?" he uttered lucidly.

     After such a long silence, I had thought he would have come up with a better response.

     "We're starting the tutoring, today," I explained.

     Pausing again, he shot me another dumb look. "And you plan to do that laying under me?"

     I scoffed ridiculously, eyes narrowing as I waited impatiently for him to move. Grayson was in no rush. Frown slowly fading into a smirk, to my misfortune, it seemed he was finally regaining his wits.

     "Is this your way of enticing me to study?" he asked, blinking innocently. "A sort of reward if I get an answer correct?"

     "Jerk!" I huffed indignantly, pushing his heavy body off me. Why hadn't I done that sooner?

     Remaining on the floor, he flipped on his back, while I clumsily came to a stand. Arms over his head, he stretched his lengthy body. Muscles tensing, the movement accentuated his already perfect form. Eyes nearly bulging, I darted towards the door before he could make note of my fiery red face.

     "Don't make me regret tutoring you," I warned.

     "Wouldn't dream of it." He smirked. Always that damn smirk.

     I shouldn't have looked back. The twinkle in his eyes and his lounged position allowing for the sun to bounce off his golden skin, nearly made me pause. You'd swear I was looking at the half-nude portrait of a Greek god. I felt like the poor peasant assigned hours of torment as they painted every impeccable inch of the being before them... But I would not succumb to his charm. I would not be tormented. Praying that Grayson remained oblivious to the effect he had on me, I forced my heavy legs to walk away.

     I was quite pleased when he met me in the kitchen fully dressed. Taking an extra-long shower, I had managed to compose myself. All I had required was a reminder that Grayson was a menace. A beautiful one perhaps, but no less of a menace.

     Complaining once more that winter break had begun, I pulled my eyes away from the history textbook, unimpressed gaze landing on the whining boy.

     "The quicker we finish this all, the better we'll be able to enjoy our three weeks off," I reasoned.

     Pout slowly transforming into a wide grin, I knew I'd soon regret my choice of words.

     "That's development!" he declared proudly. "Not only have you stopped fighting for less time with me, but now you are bargaining for more."

     Unimpressed glare preserved, I remained silent for few moments. I hadn't thought tutoring him would require such effort; the effort required to sustain patience was outstanding.

     "Only because it's the only way to get anything from you," I finally defended childishly.

     "Don't burst my bubbles, Adams," he complained, tone ever more child-like than mine.

     "Stop getting distracted, Ryder. You've been on the same question for fifteen minutes!"

     "It's a hard one," he mumbled.

     "The answer is on the page that I've let open for you."

     Still, he looked defeated. You'd swear he'd been tasked the responsibility of shoveling cow manure in the blazing heat of July, rather than the task of jotting down two sentences.

     "I need incentive," he finally decided.

     Brow cocked, I shot him a warning glance. I was not in the mood for friendly flirting.

     "Not that kind of incentive." He rolled his eyes. "Just make me want to learn."

     I stared at him like the dork I so believed him to be. I thought he should come up with his own motivation, but his impatient look told me he was awaiting an answer.

     "Is getting better grades, not enough incentive?"

     Grayson snorted, ridiculing my latest idea. Still, he waited for a genuine offer. Following another pause and impatient urging glare, my gaze hardened.

     "How about this?" I suggested. "If you answer correctly, I won't hit you with a large textbook."

     His brows furrowed faintly in consideration.

     "Not exactly what I was thinking," he said, gaze finally fixed on his hated textbook. "But I guess I can work with that."

     Grayson was actually quite intelligent when he tried. If he could care enough to sacrifice more of his time to schoolwork, his grades could rank near the top of the class. I had no doubt of it. In fact, half-way through, I felt as though I was the one being tutored. Despite my initial reluctance, I promised myself to convince him of future homework sessions. I wouldn't let him throw away a potentially bright future for me.