I shot him a glance. “To who?”

“Mary and Susan. You don’t need to change anything about yourself. You’re already sexy as fuck.”

I sucked in a breath at his words, so blunt and to the point. I didn’t think I’d ever been described quite like that before. It made me feel nervous . . . but a little excited, too. I turned to face him, plastering on a strict look. “You need to learn to stop talking to me like that. I’m your teacher.”

He cocked a brow. “So you can talk to Mary and Susan about their sex lives, but I can’t tell you how sexy you are?”

I placed my hands on my hips. “Yes, that’s exactly right. I’m friends with my students. I’ll talk to them about their lives and give advice when needed. The way you speak to me isn’t friendly, Stu, and I think you know it.”

He shrugged. “I say what I think.”

“Yes, well, try to keep some of the things you think to yourself every once in a while.”

“Oh, I have been,” he said, pausing to slice his teeth across his lower lip. I was beginning to notice it was a signature move of his. “I’ve been keeping things to myself for over a week. Seems only natural that some of it finally slipped out.”

My eyes flickered between his as I shook my head. His persistence was both bizarre and flabbergasting, and yes, a tiny bit flattering, which was why I decided to swiftly change the subject. “God, there’s no talking to you. Come on, let’s go find you an application form.”

Stu was quiet as he followed me to the reception desk. A few minutes later I sat down with him at a table close to the poetry section so he could fill it out. I pushed the form across the table and handed him a pen. He glanced down at both items in consternation before levelling his gaze on me.

“You do it. I hate filling out forms.”

“They need your address and a few other personal details,” I said, as I noticed Kian scanning books in the poetry section. “It’s quicker if you do it yourself.” He seemed irritated, possibly by my presence, so I thought I’d go check on Kian. “Go ahead. I’ll be back in a minute, then we’ll take it to reception to get your temporary card.”

Leaving Stu, I approached Kian. He was holding the collected works of T.S. Eliot. “‘This is the way the world ends, not with a bang but a whimper,’” I quoted and he looked up at me curiously. “It’s from The Hollow Men, should be in there.”

“I’ve only read The Wasteland so far. I like it but it’s very long.”

I gave a soft laugh and made a gesture with my hands. “I can see that quote on the blurb. T.S Eliot, fantastic poet, but God, does he ever shut up?”

Kian chuckled quietly. “Does poetry count as non-fiction? I want to borrow this one and read more of his stuff.”

“Sure, go for it. You’ve got good taste. Eliot is actually one of my favourite poets,” I replied and then heard a muttered expletive from Stu. Turning around, I saw him glaring at the form and it made me worry.

“I better go see what’s bothering him,” I told Kian before making my way back over to Stu.

“What’s wrong?”

He lifted his gaze to mine, his dark brows drawn together in frustration. Letting out a gruff breath, he shoved the form across the table and stood from his seat.

“Fuck this shit,” he muttered under his breath then strode past me. What the hell? After several seconds a thought suddenly hit me. I felt like such an idiot. He said he hated filling out forms and all last week he hadn’t submitted any homework. I’d given him leeway because he was new and still settling in, but I should’ve seen the signs sooner. It was a very real possibility that Stu had trouble reading and writing.

Firming my resolve, I followed in the direction he’d gone, finding him outside the library lighting up a cigarette. He glanced at me, inhaled a drag, then leaned back against the wall. I folded my arms over my chest and met his gaze head-on.

“Care to explain what that was all about?”

He shook his head. “Not really.”

I studied him, trying to decide how to broach the subject. “Stu, if you have trouble with reading and writing, you only have to say the word and I’ll . . .”

He turned and glared at me. “I can read and write fine.” The bitterness in his voice told me he was lying, though whether it was to himself or me I couldn’t say. Judging from his defensiveness, I decided now wasn’t the time to push the matter. So, I’d put it on the back burner, but it was definitely something we needed to discuss soon if he was going to progress in the class.

I tried a different tack. “Is everything okay at home?”

He blew out some smoke. “Just rosy.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“I’m thirty years old, Andrea. My daddy isn’t beating on me, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he practically sneered.

I ignored his tone. For now. “Are you living with your parents?”

“Oh, Andrea. Fuck off.”

“Stu, I overlooked your language inside the library just now, but if you swear at me again I’ll have no other choice but to report your behaviour to the dean.”

He at least had the decency to look regretful. “Sorry. Look, it’s how I talk. I don’t mean anything by it.”

I sighed. “Well, try not to swear around me, okay? You might be thirty years old, but this is still school. You need to be respectful.”

“Got ya.”

“So, if you don’t live with your parents, where have you been staying?”

“With my brothers.”

“Oh, really?” I said, relieved he wasn’t all alone. “How many brothers do you have?”

“Three. Lee, Trevor, and Liam.”

“And you all live together?”

“Yeah. It’s a bit of a full house at the moment, actually. Lee’s missus, Karla, lives with us now, and then there’s our cousin, Sophie, and her son, Jonathan. Oh, and her foster daughter, Billie.”

“Wow, that really is a full house,” I said.

Stu nodded. “Tell me about it. I feel like I’m getting under everyone’s feet. They got used to me not being there, and now I’m back, taking up space.”

“I’m sure they don’t see it that way. They’re probably just happy to have you home and safe,” I said, sad for him. He’d been away for two years and things had changed. It must be difficult to feel like there wasn’t a place for you anymore.