I lean on the edge of the Starbucks brick wall as I look at my phone: 4:57 pm. Where is Will? Maybe I should just wait inside then. It feels awkward just standing in front of everyone as they are drinking their lattes and frappuccinos. I sigh as I clutch my laptop in my hands and head into the coffee place.

Once I buy a small drink and sit at a small booth, I glance around the area to look for him once again. But, as I scan the area, there isn't a dirty-blonde individual with green eyes anywhere. I sigh as I open up my laptop and check my phone once again: 5:07 pm. I hate people who are late. But it might not be his fault.

His basketball coach might be like mine who doesn't care what time it currently is. If you don't get this drill done, then you might as well be here all night until you do it right. That thought brings a smile to my face as I thought of all the times my teammates and I had to go through such torture. Then, a British accented voice interrupts my thoughts, "What are you smiling at?"

My eyes slowly lift up to the individual that is speaking to me. William is standing right in front of me with a small smile plastered onto his face as his green eyes glint in amusement. He is carrying his backpack on his back and a gym bag that's slung across his body. My face rises in temperature and I gulp in anxiety.

"N-Nothing," I blurt out.

He then laughs as he slides into the seating booth right across from me. "I was just kidding. Don't need to get so uptight." Will decides to take out his laptop and his binders out to get started.

Still flustered, I close my computer and fold my hands on it. I clear my throat as I look at him directly in the eyes. "So, what brings you here today?"

He clears his throat as he takes out some pages of his binder. It strangely neat unlike some of the boys who treat their papers like it's nothing. "I-I need help on precalc first. Specifically conics," he stutters with an embarrassed expression on his flawless face. He pushes a piece of paper towards me.

As I take the paper into my hands, I realize that it's a pop quiz that his teacher must've given him. I shift my eyes onto the overall score and it says, "six out of ten." I cringe a little as I set the paper down in front of us. "What's your overall grade in that class right now?" I ask as I take out a pencil from my pencil pouch.

"Around a seventy-eight percent, last time I checked," Will replies as he drums his fingers on the table.

I clench my jaw in frustration. We only have a month left. Can he make it to a "B" in that class? I mean, that's why he's asking me in the first place. "And I'm assuming you want a 'B' in that class, right?" I raise an eyebrow to confirm my suspicions.

"Yes, and an 'A' if that's even possible."

I scoff. I start to make some calculations on his grade, and once I'm done, I sigh. Will gazes at me intensely as he wants an answer. "It's going to be very tight for precalc. You have to literally grind on every single test and get an almost perfect score if you want a flat ninety percent," I conclude as I set my pencil down onto the table lightly.

He sighs as he scratches the back of his neck. "Do you think I can make it?"

I shrug. "Depends on how much time you're willing to spend on studying."

"I have to get a good grade for most of my classes or else my parents will literally yell at me and I don't want that." I know what he's talking about. My parents are the same as they set high expectations for me. But unlike Will, I can hit and possibly exceed those standards. I guess some people are unable to handle that pressure.

"I understand." I flash him a small smile. "My parents might be similar to yours. It's quite rough when they set high expectations."

He smiles back brightly. My heartbeat rises slightly as I see this. "I'm glad I can find someone to relate to. Most of my close friends don't have a goal in their education, only basketball. But, I don't blame them. Basketball is a very tedious sport if you haven't noticed. It takes a lot of someone's mental and physical capacity."

I know what he's exactly talking about again. But I can't let him know a single thing about the connection between me and basketball. "I know that basketball is physically tedious as most sports are, but I didn't know it could drain someone's mental capacity," I lie with a fake surprised expression.

"Oh, Ash, believe me, it takes a toll." A chill runs down my spine as Will calls me by a nickname in which I don't like at all.

I shift the conversation back on the right track. "We need to stop getting side-tracked," I say as I laugh. "Or else we'll get nothing today and you'd just waste your time and money on me. Let's get to work, shall we?" I study him as he takes out a pencil from his backpack.

"Let's do it."