Four Of A Kind

Chapter 126: [3.28] Letters of the Alphabet

We walked in silence toward the parking lot. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the asphalt, and a cool breeze carried the promise of autumn. Cassidy kept her eyes fixed firmly ahead, but I could see the tension in her jaw, the way she chewed on her bottom lip.

“You know,” I said as we reached the Lexus, “a there’s always time to turn a D into a B.”

“I thought we weren’t talking about my grades,” she said sharply.

“We’re not. We’re talking about letters of the alphabet. D is just a letter. It can change to a C or a B or even an A.”

She rolled her eyes. “Now you sound like one of those motivational posters in the guidance office.”

“Fair,” I admitted, unlocking the car. “But I mean it. We’ve made progress. You’re understanding the concepts better. The grade just hasn’t caught up yet.”

She slid into the passenger seat, immediately fiddling with the radio. “Whatever.”

I started the car, letting her channel-surf until she settled on something with heavy bass and angry lyrics. It suited her mood perfectly.

“You know,” I said as we pulled out of the parking lot, “I meant what I said the other day.”

“You say a lot of things.”

“About you being smart. That wasn’t just to make you feel better. You are smart, Cassidy. You just learn differently.”

She turned to look out the window, but not before I caught the slight softening of her expression. “If I was smart, I wouldn’t have a D in math.”

“That’s not how intelligence works.”

“Tell that to my mother.”

I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, choosing my words carefully. “Your mother isn’t always right.”

That got her attention. She whipped her head around, eyes wide with surprise. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. She’s not always right. Especially about you.”

“You’ve met her like, twice.”

“And that was enough to see that she has very specific expectations that might not align with who you actually are.”

Cassidy fell silent, processing this small rebellion against the Valentine matriarch. After a moment, she said quietly, “She’s going to kill me when she sees this report card.”

“Maybe,” I conceded. “Or maybe she’ll see that you’ve gone from an F to a D, which is actually improvement.”

“A Valentine doesn’t get Ds,” she said, mimicking what I assumed was her mother’s tone.

“Then I guess we’ll just have to make sure you don’t have a D by the time final grades come out… unless you really did want to wear that collar.”

Cassidy’s head whipped toward me so fast I worried she might get whiplash. Her purple eyes widened, then narrowed dangerously. The temperature in the car seemed to drop ten degrees.

“What did you just say?” Her voice came out quiet, which was way scarier than her usual shouting.

“I was just reminding you about our bet,” I said casually, keeping my eyes on the road while fighting a smile. “You know, the one where if you don’t get at least a B, you become my pet for a day.”

Her face went through about five different emotions in three seconds. Shock, anger, embarrassment, more anger, then something else entirely.

“As if I’d forget,” she scoffed, crossing her arms. “I still have plenty of time to pull my grade up.”

“True,” I nodded. “But I’m just thinking ahead. Planning, you know?”

“Planning what exactly?”

I shrugged, making a turn. “Accessories, mostly. Iris has been showing me some isekai anime lately. I think rabbit ears would look cute with your red hair.” I risked a glance her way. “Maybe a little tail too.”

Her face turned the exact shade of her wine-red hair, and she made a strangled noise somewhere between a gasp and a screech.

“You… you… absolute pervert!” She punched my arm, hard enough that I had to correct the steering wheel. “I can’t believe you just said that!”

“Hey, I’m not the one who suggested a collar,” I reminded her. “That was all you.”

“That was a joke!”

“Was it though?”

She punched my arm again, harder this time. “You’re the worst tutor ever.”

“And yet your grade went from an F to a D in three weeks. Imagine what could happen in another month.”

Cassidy slumped back in her seat, her face still bright red but her eyes now carrying a spark that had been missing since she got her progress report. Mission accomplished.

“Fine,” she muttered. “But when I win this bet, you’re the one who’ll be wearing the rabbit ears. And I’ll make you hop around the whole damn house.”

“Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t rock that look.”

She snorted, then covered her mouth like she was annoyed at herself for finding me funny. “You’re so weird.”

“Says the girl who suggested the pet bet in the first place.”

“I didn’t think you’d actually take me up on it!”

“So you were just… what? Testing me?”

She turned to look out the window, but not before I caught her smirk. “Maybe.”

“And how did I do on that test, Valentine?” I asked.

She poked my side, her finger sharp through my school shirt. “Eyes on the road, scholarship boy.”

I obediently focused back on driving, but my smile remained. The old Cassidy was returning—the fiery, challenging girl who’d rather die than back down from a fight. It was a vast improvement over the defeated version I’d witnessed in the classroom.

“Anyway,” she continued, “when I win, I’m going to make you do all sorts of humiliating things. Carry my books. Fetch my drinks. Address me as ’Master Cassidy’ all day.”

“Your confidence is admirable, considering your current grade.”

“My grade is going to change,” she insisted, poking me again. This time her finger lingered against my ribs. “I’ve got four weeks and a genius tutor, don’t I?”

“So now I’m a genius? Five minutes ago I was the worst tutor ever.”

“You’re both,” she said simply. “A genius at being the worst.”

“Your logic is unassailable.”

“Obviously,” she huffed, but there was no real heat behind it. She was playing our game again, falling back into the comfortable pattern of challenge and counter-challenge that characterized our tutoring sessions.

We pulled into the parking lot of Bubble Dreams, and I killed the engine. Before I could open my door, Cassidy grabbed my wrist. Her touch was lighter than her earlier pokes, almost hesitant.

“Hey,” she said, suddenly serious. “What if… what if I can’t do it? What if I can’t get my grade up in time?”

I turned to face her fully. This close, I could see the flecks of darker purple near the center of her eyes, the small beauty mark just below her left eyebrow that distinguished her from her sisters.

“You can,” I said.

“How do you know?”

“Because I know you, Cassidy Valentine. You’re stubborn and competitive and too proud to lose a bet to someone like me.” I smiled. “Plus, you’d rather die than let me see you in rabbit tail, right?”

She dropped my wrist like it had burned her, but her lips curled upward. “Damn straight.”

“So you’ll win. Problem solved.”

“But—”

“No buts. If you start doubting yourself, I win. Is that what you want?”

Her eyes flashed. “Never.”

“Then let’s get some bubble tea and talk strategy. You can’t win a war without a plan.”

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Fine. But you’re paying.”

“Naturally. What kind of gentleman would I be otherwise?”