He tapped his pencil against the unpolished wooden desk, occasionally chewing on the eraser absently. He ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair, which kept falling in front of his eyes.
"Maybe we should tie it up," said Alexander, in reference to his hair, smirking.
He glared at Alex. "Not funny. I just... I don't get poetry. Can't we just leave it be?"
"I thought I was the tutor," grumbled Alex, but smoothly shut the book, his hand almost caressing the worn cover of the old poetry book. "What now? How about math?"
"Graphs?" the blonde asked hopefully. Graphs were easy.
Alexander sighed. "Yes, graphs."