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It’s Friday.
And every Friday, your cheer team agrees to wear the uniform to school. It’s like a cute, inconvenient, team-bonding thing.
But every Friday, you have tutoring sessions.
Because Calculus sucks.
But what sucks more is stepping foot into a classroom with your cheer outfit on for tutoring with Dustin Henderson. Alone.
The first day, Dustin mistook it as a joke–like it was a prank that you were coming in for help. Which honestly fractured your ego, but I mean, who can blame him–? You were on top of nearly all your classes. That is, except for Calculus.
After the realization hit him, he was a mess. Shaky, stuttery, like he forgot the entire unit circle. But you knew this boy was smart–so why was he acting so ..weird?
The second day, you arrived in the cheer outfit, per usual. Your custom Hawkins cheer jacket hung loose off your shoulder, your green pleated skirt flowing with your movement. Per usual.. or so you thought.
Because Dustin was still a mess. You knew he was a nerd–a little bit of a loser–but, nothing like this. He was practically trembling around you, and every time you asked if he was okay, he shrugged you off.
Nonetheless, you were still learning, and your Calculus classes started to become much easier to understand. So you tried shrugging it off too.
Just three more weeks until the test.
The third Friday rolls around, and you arrive the same as the last; green pleated skirt with yellow lining, a sleeveless v-neck sweater reading “HHS”, and your custom jacket with your name embroidered.
This time, you noticed the small things;
The way he sat close enough for your shoulders to touch. The way his curls shine a sweet caramel color from the leaking beam of light through the curtains. The way he smiles proudly when he notices you catching on to what he’s explaining.
The worst part was when he leaned in closer to take the pencil from your hand–correcting your mistake with that soft tone of his.
And instead of dreading those Fridays, you began looking forward to them. Looking forward to Dustin.
But you never admitted that–never. To no one. Because you were a Cheerleader, and he was–a nerd. Your friends wouldn’t get it.
But you knew what this feeling was, and what it meant.
The following Friday, you guys began to talk more about personal things, not just about school and trigonometry. You learned that he had a cat named Tews, that he was an only child–and that his dad wasn’t in the picture. In return, you told him about your life too.
It was nice; having someone listen to you like this.
Sometimes, his knuckles would graze against yours. Other times, his knee would bump into yours as you sat side-by-side at a tiny desk, and neither of you would move away.
Yeah, it was really nice.
Before you know it, it’s the last tutoring session before the test. Meaning, it’s the last Friday you’ll get to see Dustin.
You know you need to do something–to say something, to ask him out, to–
“Hey, Dustin!” You say, clicking the classroom door behind you shut.
Dustin looks away from his paper, beaming with wrinkly eyes. “Oh, hi Y/N–!” He slams his textbook shut without looking away from you, angling himself in his chair towards you. “How was your week?”
You swing your backpack off your shoulders, slipping it into the seat next to him. “It’s been..okay, I guess. I’m a bit nervous for the test.”
Dustin huffs out a laugh. “What? Are you doubting my tutoring skills?"
You shake your head quickly as heat seeps into your cheeks. “No–! No, no. It’s not that. I just.. never do well on them. Like–no matter the amount of studying I do–I just.. fail.”
Dustin sighs softly, grinning down as he fidgets with his rings on his fingers. “It’s gonna be okay. You totally have it! I know you do.”
You grimace, not fully believing what he has to say. You continue searching through your backpack, swiping out a few notebooks. “And yours?”
Dustin looks up with you, his blue eyes catching the light perfectly. “It’s been great. Lots of..uhum–friend.. stuff, I guess.”
He’s always been vague with what he does outside of school–but you never pried–some people have secrets, and that’s okay.
You giggle softly. “Sounds..great.” You mock.
Dustin rolls his eyes lightheartedly. “Okay, okay. Enough. We have to get some last-minute practice before your test on Wednesday.”
You groan teasefully. “Gosh, fine, goody-two shoes.” You pull out the chair next to him before you slip into it, flattening your pleated skirt in your lap.
Dustin moves a textbook from your desk in front of him, opening it to skim through the pages. He hums as his eyes scan the titles. “Where were we..?” He trails off. “Ah, right, Reciprocal Trig Identities.”
And then you were lost.
Not at the Trig bullshit–but rather, at him.
As he spoke, you leaned your face into your palm, your eyelashes fluttering softly as you memorized the curves of his face.
How did it take you so long to realize how cute he was?
He was breathtaking. Ethereal! Handsome, sweet, and good at math? If social construct didn’t exist–or rather, seem unbearingly heavy on your shoulder as a cheerleader–you’d take him in without wasting a breath.
But you’ve always hated the ‘popularity-love’ rule; that “popular” girls must date “popular” guys. You never understood why the basketball guys chose to pick on the DND club members. Never understood why your fellow cheer girls perceived themselves differently just to appeal to said basketball guys.
No, you were never that kind of girl.
Because now you’re the ‘nerd-loving-cheerleader-kind-of-girl’.
You weren’t following Dustin's pencil, or replying to his, “Do you understand?” comments after he explained every example problem. You’d nod, a simple gesture that Dustin never thought twice about.
You dissociate, eyes fixed on Dustin’s face rather than the page. Your eyes would unknowingly drift to his lips as he spoke–and for some reason, they seemed so.. kissable! You wondered how they’d feel; if they were as soft as they looked. If he tasted like his previous snack–or if–
“Y/N..?” Dustin’s voice brings you back to reality.
Your face springs up from your hand, your eyes shying away from his graze. You breathe out, lips parting the slightest as heat rises to your cheeks. “S–sorry!”
Dustin raises a brow in suspicion, still oblivious to the situation. “Were you listening?”
You swallow. “Yeah–yeah. Of course I was.”
Dustin props his elbow on top of the table, leaning his face into his palm to match your level. “Right. What was the last thing I just said?”
You choke. “Uhum–”
Dustin sighs lightheartedly, a smile playing on his face. He hums curiously, awaiting a full response.
You bite your bottom lip nervously, your eyes stealing a second to look at him. “..Okay.”
“Okay?” Dustin echoes.
You shrug a shoulder. “Okay–I’m sorry! But–”
“Is there something bothering you?” Dustin says, his voice softer than before. “Like.. a big game leaving you anxious–or another class you’re worried about?”
Yeah. It’s you.
You don’t say that though. Instead, you sigh softly, an effort to calm your thundering heartbeat. “No. No, no. Nothing like that.”
There’s a pause, the air between you two heavy with silence.
“I don’t believe you.” Dustin says.
Your breath hitches. “No–It’s literally nothing..! I swear.”
“Okay–but I know something’s bothering you. I’ve known you for weeks now; we’re not strangers.” Dustin says, his face not leaving the support of his palm.
The breath you release through your nostrils is more shaky than you’re okay with. “It’s–it’s okay! It’s nothing important. Just get back to the lesson.” You say, adjusting yourself back into the chair. “Please.”
Dustin shrugs softly, sitting up into his chair once again. “Okay.” He mumbles, taking the pencil back in between his fingers.
Dustin quickly goes back to explaining a problem; briefly going over the same formula you’ve already learned but need to memorize. Unfortunately for yourself, the only thing you’re memorizing is his intricate traits.
You try to force yourself to focus–to follow what he’s saying and what steps he’s trying to expand on–but you can’t.
His curls.
His eyes.
His voice.
His lips.
“Are you following?” Dustin asks, his gaze shifting away from his paper to instead find your eyes.
To his surprise, you’re already looking back at him. “Oh–”
Without thinking, you part your lips. And for some reason, Dustin does the same.
You adjust yourself in your seat to inch closer to him, however Dustin doesn’t move–in fact, his leg rests next to yours. The pencil in his hand goes limp, and his resting hand begins to tap nervously on his knee. You can clearly see a distinct change in the tone of his cheeks; much more redder than the moment before.
Inexplicably, this urges you to continue; like he’s directly feeding gasoline to your fire.
For just a brief moment, the two of you sit there, eyes locked like nothing else mattered. Dustin interrupts the stare by stealing a glance down to your lips; glossed, needy, and there. It took every ounce of his body to not take your lips in with his.
Instead, the tension continues to thicken. The suspense hangs heavy in the air, waiting for one of you to take the advantage.
When Dustin looks back up, he’s met with your hungry eyes. Your starving, desperate eyes. The shift in his facial expression causes you to bite down on your bottom lip, hiding a grin that you know he’d take the wrong way.
Dustin breathes out shakily, his eyes flickering to your lips every other heartbeat.
The room’s atmosphere felt so hot against your skin that you were becoming flushed–cheeks a light rose color.
“Dustin.” You breathe out.
Dustin’s eyes widen, his eyebrows lifting, but his body stays still against yours.
You tilt your head to the right–subtle, but obvious. And for some irrational reason, Dustin turns his left.
You begin to rise your dominant hand up to his cheek in order to pull him closer but–
Dustin gets there first.
He begins to kiss you hungry. Like he’s been starved.
And–he was. You left him starved for weeks.
Dustin’s hand searches your body, almost violently, but his softness makes it nearly impossible. They glide over your bare thighs, the cold feel of his rings sending a shiver through your body. His right hand digs into the corner of your jaw, prying it open so he can taste you.
At first, it’s messy–uncordinated and wet, but as your tongues battle one another, the two of you find an even pace.
Dustin’s hot breath against your face makes you lightheaded, leaving you to groan into his lips. As his tongue reaches further into your mouth, you question how this is the nerd you were so worried about. The same nerd who’s handling you like you’ve been on his mind since forever. The same nerd who’s hand is reaching further down your waist.
He grips the extra skin around your waist to pull you closer, the sting sending a shock of pleasure you weren’t prepared for. In response, your hand finds the nape of his neck, tugging on some loose curls.
After minutes of your lips bashing together and lost breaths, you give Dustin a light tug to pull his face away from yours. Your lips are stung a light pink, and so are his. His eyes droop with satisfaction, a light smile playing on his face.
Without thinking, you slip up from your chair, your pleated skirt falling neatly back into place. Dustin’s hand drops from your waist as you stand, hypnotized as you make your way over to him. Facing him, you use your right hand to caress a thumb over his cheek, sliding to the back of his neck. With your other hand, you support yourself on his shoulder, allowing you to slide his legs in between yours.
You take a glance at his needy face before sitting on top of his lap; parted lips begging to be kissed and a pair of glossy eyes that are fixed on you. Dustin’s trembling hands find your waist to stabilize your weight on his lap, as he fights himself to not look down at your spread legs.
You quickly take his lips back in with yours, the familiar softness from before causing you to smile into the kiss. Dustin syncs with you when you tilt your face, deepening the kiss as your lips fold over one another at a slow pace.
Dustin’s hands leave your waist momentarily to explore down to your hips, memorizing the curves of your body. You hum into the kiss as his thumbs dig circles into your hipbones, the feeling tickling and pleasuring you at the same time.
“Dustin..” You mutter into his lips.
In response, he hums back to you, refusing to break away from the kiss.
Minutes pass by, the classroom's clock ticking away time you weren’t aware of. You were much too distracted.
The Calculus work on the table becomes forgotten, and Dustin’s pencil from before has fallen off the desk and fallen besides your shared chair.
Dustin’s soft, sweet hands continue to trace patterns over your skin. His lips become synchronized with yours with every passing moment.
Every other head tilt, Dustin softly nibbles at your bottom lip, or slides his tongue over yours to remind you that he’s just as needy as before.
God, you didn’t care about how you did on that stupid test anymore.
Dustin begins to become risky, his hands exploring places you weren’t expecting a nerd to know where to touch. They stroll over your ass, up towards your shirt, playing with the hem of your V-cut sweater.
Soon, they reach under the knitted cloth–the feeling sending a pleasurably shock through your body. They linger below the strap of your sports bra for a moment, and before too long, they inch under to meet your fleshy breast.
Like before, his cold, smooth rings make you shiver, but not unpleasantly.
You pull away–just for a moment–to catch your breath, letting Dustin explore your chest with a single hand.
You rest your forehead upon his shoulder, breathing into the cloth of his jacket. “Dustin–” You choke out, as he gives one of your breasts a light squeeze.
Dustin only hums back to you, too focused on the sweet feel of your soft plush.
“Y/N–!!” A girl's voice shouts from the hallway.
Dustin’s hand shoots under from your sports bra as you spring up from his lap. “Shit.” You both hiss simultaneously.
“Y/N, where are you? Practice is soon–! Haven’t you checked the time–?” The girl's voice begins to get louder, close to your guys’ classroom.
“Yeah–!” You choke out. “Yeah, I know. I’ll be out soon! Just–finsihing a.. lesson!” You shout back, holding back a giggle.
Dustin buries his face in his palm, dragging it down his face to hide his smile.
You fidget with your clothes, straightening out your skirt and brushing a hand through your hair to make yourself look more presentable.
The girl outside, who’s a member of the cheer team, stops outside the closed door. “Okay..just–be fast! Coach isn’t in a favorable mood.”
You sigh softly. “Yeah–okay.”