Billy Hargrove Imagines

Tutor

You're smart. Like, really, really smart. You get nothing less than 100% on every homework assignment, pop quiz, and test. Whenever someone is having trouble on their homework, they go straight to you. Maybe that's why Billy Hargrove, the very last person you'd expect to talk to you, approached you after school one day.

You were in the school library getting ready for a book club, which you're president of, when you heard a familiar deep, rough voice from behind you.

"Funny running into you here."

You turned. Billy Hargrove stood a few feet away as he leaned against a book case, his signature smirk tugging at his lips. He looked so out of place in the library with his leather jacket, styled hair, and charming but I-don't-care-about-anything attitude. You tried to hide your surprise by turning your back to him. You pulled some chairs from other tables to the main table the book club will be seated at.

"What do you need?" You asked without beating around the bush.

Billy ran a hand through his long hair and scratched the stubble on his chin.

"I heard you're a nerd."

"If you came here to ask me to do your homework, the answer is no." It's not what Billy said about you being a nerd that caused you to snap at him, you aren't offended by that, but it's the fact that so many of the people Billy hangs out with have asked you to do their homework before. You had your own homework to do - besides, you can't just do their homework. You liked helping people, and doing their homework isn't helping them at all.

Billy let out a breathy chuckle. "Actually, I came here to ask you to help me out in one of my classes."

You turned around, surprised. "Oh." People like Billy either want the grades without the work, or just don't even care about their grades. "Do you want me to tutor you or something?"

Billy smiled. "That'd be nice."

"Okay." You and Billy stood there for a moment in silence before you nodded and turned, grabbing a piece of paper off the table designated for the book club meeting. You took a pen off the same table and scribbled down your phone number on the corner before ripping it off. You capped the pen and extended the scrap piece of paper to Billy.

His eyes flickered to the paper as he takes it. He read the phone number under his breath. Billy looked up at you. "You mind not telling anyone about this?" He asked, rolling the paper between his fingers.

You shrugged. "Sure."

At first Billy kept everything so secretive. It made tutoring him kind of fun - it felt like a secret spy mission. He would slyly pass you a note in between classes that said when he had a test. Then, after his basketball practice, he'd tell his teammates that he's staying later to shoot while in actuality he's going straight to the library to study with you. He was always sweaty and smelly afterwords, and at first that bothered you.

"You reek," you told him one time.

He laughed and raised his arms, interlocking his fingers behind his head as he sat back in his chair. His armpits had sweat stains.

"Why are you so disgusting?" You asked as you plugged your nose.

He shrugged. "I can't help it."