Chapter 4 Please! Make Sure This Kid Likes You!

After waking up, Mitchell habitually made himself a cup of coffee to wake up. Today was the first class, and he needed to stay alert. Moreover, he felt inexplicably nervous.

Strange, what was there to be nervous about? Mitchell couldn''t figure it out himself.

A black Maybach stopped downstairs, its low-key luxury attracting the attention of passersby. Mitchell quickened his pace and got into the car. Inside, there was only a driver, who greeted Mitchell politely.

"Hello, Mr. Windsor, Madam asked me to pick you up."

Mitchell nodded, "Thank you."

The driver smiled at him and continued, "Nathan is really looking forward to it. He got up early to wait for you."

"Nathan? I thought his nickname was Anderson."

"Haha, that''s because Nathan''s handwriting was so bad when he was little. Madam said she needed to make up for it with a nickname!"

Mitchell thought to himself, how bad could it be to need a nickname to make up for it? He smiled and replied, "Really? I''m looking forward to it."

The car drove smoothly to the city''s villa area, a well-known wealthy district. No wonder the kid''s mom sent a driver to pick him up. Several security guards patrolled the entrance, determined to protect the homeowners'' privacy. It would have been tough for him to get in on his own.

Mitchell had just changed his shoes when a stunningly beautiful woman walked over enthusiastically.

"You must be Mr. Windsor. I''m Nathan''s mom, Charlotte Morgan."

Charlotte was well-maintained, looking just over thirty, and it was hard to tell she was the mother of a high school student.

Mitchell shook hands with Charlotte, "You can have Nathan get ready to start the lesson."

Charlotte led the way, talking animatedly, "You have no idea how bored our kid is. He never lets his dad and me get involved in his studies. This is the first time he''s agreed to have a tutor. I''m so excited, Mr. Windsor. I really want to experience the chaos of having a high school senior at home. Seeing you gives me hope."

Mitchell forced a smile. What kind of rich people''s weird hobby is this...

"Nathan, the teacher is here." Charlotte pushed open the door, "Hey, where is he?"

Mitchell followed her into the room and looked around. The bedroom was large and simply decorated, with a black, white, and gray color scheme. It was simple yet stylish, a room style boys would like.

"He took a shower."

The bathroom door clicked open, and Mitchell looked over, dropping the papers in his hand.

Nathan?!

Why is he everywhere?

Nathan was wearing a white T-shirt, his hair wet and sticking to his head. His shorts reached his knees, revealing well-proportioned calves. Fresh out of the shower, he still had a misty aura around him. As he moved, the shape of his lean waist became apparent under his loose clothes.

Mitchell hurriedly squatted down to pick up the papers, his breathing a bit erratic.

"Why didn''t you shower earlier?" Charlotte chided him, pulling out a chair for Mitchell, "Hurry and sit down, don''t keep the teacher waiting."

Nathan had timed it just right, but he didn''t expect Mitchell to catch him after his shower. Mr. Vanderbilt drove pretty fast today.

Nathan pulled out a chair and sat next to Mitchell. The scent of his shampoo, a fresh minty smell, wafted into Mitchell''s nose.

"Teacher, please make sure Nathan likes you."

Charlotte''s words seemed to drop a bomb in Mitchell''s ear, making his ears turn red, "W-what?"

"Make him enjoy your lessons!" Charlotte looked expectant, "But don''t feel pressured. I''m not too concerned about his grades. Mr. Windsor! Good luck!!"

Realizing he had misunderstood, Mitchell''s ears turned even redder.

After Charlotte left, only Mitchell and Nathan were left in the room. For a moment, neither spoke.

Mitchell felt like backing out, but out of respect for his profession, he wouldn''t leave now. No matter what, he had to finish the first class properly.

Mitchell set a three-hour countdown on his phone, as if to cheer himself on, "Okay, let''s start the lesson!"

Nathan took out the practice questions, smiling, "Aren''t you going to ask my name, teacher?"

"Oh, right, I haven''t introduced myself." Mitchell smiled awkwardly, "My name is Mitchell."

Mitchell took a piece of paper and wrote his name on it. The handwriting was neat and fluid, clearly practiced.

Nathan glanced at it and first complimented, "Your handwriting is beautiful."

Then he wrote his own name next to it.

Crooked and messy, but still legible.

"Alright, now that we know each other, let''s start with the exercises. This page, 20 minutes, okay?"

Nathan nodded and focused on the exercises. This page of math problems was about derivatives, with two questions that were a bit tricky. Mitchell''s 20 minutes was just a trial, not a strict requirement. For an average student, 30 minutes would be more reasonable.

Mitchell cleared his mind of thoughts about Nathan. To be honest, this job was really nice. Charlotte didn''t seem like the type of parent who would cause trouble, and Nathan was quiet and well-behaved. If the student were anyone else, Mitchell would be happy to teach him.

"Finished."

The sound of the pen cap clicking shut was crisp, and the boy''s clear voice pulled Mitchell back to reality. Only 15 minutes had passed.

Mitchell picked up the exercise book and checked the answers, "Hmm, you only got two questions wrong. Your accuracy is quite high, but..." Mitchell glanced at Nathan, "Your handwriting is a bit messy..."

"A bit messy" was Mitchell''s polite way of putting it. In reality, Nathan''s handwriting was more than just a bit messy. To put it bluntly, even a cockroach dipped in ink crawling over the paper would look neater and more organized than his writing.

This was a math test, after all. The letters and numbers were written so poorly that it was hard to imagine what his language test would look like.

Nathan was well aware of his handwriting, "I''ll write more neatly next time."

Mitchell nodded, "Take a look at this question. This is clearly a type of function construction problem. The question gives you a hint, using the original expression of f(x) plus..."

A complex function problem became clearer under Mitchell''s explanation. Nathan grasped the concept quickly. After explaining the problem, Mitchell picked a few similar problems from the exercises for Nathan to do, which he completed quickly and accurately.

"Well, these problems are done quite well. Here''s a big question, the principle is similar. Try to write it out yourself."

Nathan wore glasses during class, and the gold-rimmed glasses softened his sharp features, making him look very obedient, especially when he was focused on the exercises. The pen moved swiftly, and his lips were slightly pursed downward. Mitchell was lost in thought watching him.

"Done." Nathan put down the pen and pushed the exercise book to Mitchell.

Mitchell looked at the messy page, not knowing where to start.

"...Can you tell me where you wrote the first step?"

Nathan pointed, "Here."

Mitchell rubbed his forehead, "The first step should be written at the top. Why did you write it on the side?"

"I forgot at first, then added it later."

Mitchell sighed. If Nathan hadn''t said anything, he would have thought the scribbles were his calculations. "What''s your usual math score?"

"Around 130."

"Do you make mistakes on multiple-choice and fill-in-the-blank questions?"

"No."

From Nathan''s answer, Mitchell could tell that his average score was due to his poor handwriting. The grading teacher couldn''t understand his writing, so how could they give him points?

"I''ll write out the process, and you can take a look." Mitchell started a new line, "First, list the useful conditions from the question..."

Mitchell''s logic was clear, and his handwriting was neat and tidy, the kind of paper teachers would use as a model. In contrast, Nathan''s handwriting was a mess. Mitchell even wondered if Nathan''s hand had been injured; otherwise, how could a normal person write so poorly?

"Did you get the process?" Mitchell finished writing, taking up little space. He tore the half-page and placed it in Nathan''s exercise book, "Write it like this."

Nathan looked at the half-page, silent for a while. Mitchell thought he was thinking and organizing the problem, so he didn''t interrupt.

After a while, Nathan said softly, "Can you teach me how to write?"

"Huh?" Mitchell was taken aback, "I think practicing handwriting is something you can do after class. Your name is written very well, which means you can write neatly."

Nathan looked into Mitchell''s eyes, "Someone taught me how to write my name. If no one teaches me, I can''t learn."

This was the first time Mitchell had heard such an odd request. It was like an ancient wealthy family hiring a tutor to teach the young master how to write.

"...Alright, after class, I''ll spend ten minutes with you. It won''t count towards the lesson fee, otherwise, I think you''d be at a disadvantage."

Mitchell said this with a bit of selfishness. After all, there was a high chance he wouldn''t come back to teach him next time, so the extra ten minutes were a small way to address his own budding feelings.

Ten minutes, just ten minutes.