Trapped in a Room with the Top Student for Better Scores Chapter 01

Trapped in a Room with the Top Student for Better Scores Chapter 01

I had zero self-control. I needed my studies to grab me by the collar and refuse to let go.

And then, out of nowhere, I was sucked into a room labeled “Improve Your Grades or You Can’t Leave”. Someone else had been pulled in with me: the top-ranked genius and resident bad boy of our AP program.

A system alert popped up. Failure to raise our scores would trigger a punishment: [Censored].

I squinted at it. “You can see that too, right?”

He did. He stiffened, immediately looking away.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Still refusing to meet my eyes, he muttered, “I’ll get your grades up.”

…

Self-control and I were strangers.

Every time I swore this month’s exam would be my academic comeback, I’d last about twenty minutes before my hand drifted to my phone. I’d scroll with the guilt already building, then hate myself for it five minutes later.

I let out a heavy sigh.

If only someone would lock me in a room and force me to study.

I caught that thought and ran with it. If studying was going to manhandle me, the least it could do was be hot.

I fell asleep smiling, and the next thing I knew, I was standing inside a room labeled “Improve Your Grades or You Can’t Leave”.

The room held two desks, towers of test prep workbooks, and Declan Sterling.

He’d already had his Ivy League acceptance locked down since sophomore year thanks to his insane academic competition streak. At that moment, he was standing there looking offensively handsome.

He stared at me with a look that screamed [Who the hell are you?].

Which brings us right back to where we started.

…

“So,” I said, “what’s the punishment?”

Declan stood there, tall and indifferent in a black T-shirt, looking like he’d been yanked straight out of the shower. His hair was still dripping, and everything about him radiated stay-the-hell-away-from-me energy.

He didn’t even glance my way.

But then he spotted the banner on the wall, bright red and impossible to miss. He choked on air, suddenly coughing.

It read: [Do it. Love doing it. Do it harder. Do it till the world ends.]

I stared at it. “Do it…?”

The longer I looked, the stranger Declan’s expression got.

“Oh!” It clicked. “The punishment is just doing practice problems?”

If our scores didn’t go up, we’d be buried in problem sets until we finished them. Basically, a study prison.

Declan gave me a look. “Yeah. Problems.”

He pulled out a chair and got down to business. He flipped through my notebook, zeroed in on my weak spots, and was about to walk me through a problem.

But his fingers stopped.

Someone else’s handwriting was all over the pages. A boy’s.

He knew exactly whose it was.

After all, just that afternoon, a teacher had been tearing into me in the front office, blaming my dropping grades on the fact that I’d been caught sneaking around with my “boyfriend.” Declan had strolled right past the open door without breaking stride.