**CHAPTER FOUR – Kelvin's POV**

It was a quiet Saturday afternoon, and the sun cast long shadows across the campus walkway as Kelvin strolled toward the faculty block. He wasn’t in a good mood not even close. His headphones were plugged in, but the music didn’t help much. He wasn’t in the mood for Drake or Burna Boy or anything that usually got him pumped. He was just… irritated. Still, he told himself to be calm. Get through this. Do the tutoring, fix your grades, go pro. That was the plan.

He glanced at his phone as he reached the building—**3:58 PM.** The coaching session with the final-year student his coach had assigned him to was supposed to start at **4 PM sharp**, and if there was one thing Kelvin hated more than losing a game, it was people wasting his time.

He climbed the stairs, his footsteps echoing through the nearly empty corridor. Room 205. That was the place. He found the door unlocked and stepped inside. It was a small classroom with old, creaky chairs, a dusty whiteboard, and sunlight filtering in through half-closed blinds. But it was empty. No sign of the so-called "genius" tutor Coach Daniel had praised so much.

He pulled off his headphones and looked around. No one.

“Seriously?” he muttered under his breath.

Kelvin checked his phone again. **4:00 PM on the dot.** He dropped his bag on a desk, leaned against the wall, and crossed his arms. For someone who claimed to be a final-year student and “brilliant” in all things academic, she sure didn’t understand the meaning of punctuality.

He waited.

**Five minutes passed.**

Still no sign of her.

Kelvin’s irritation grew. He began pacing the room, checking the corridor every thirty seconds. The sun was getting lower, the air warmer. His patience was thinning fast.

**Ten minutes passed.**

He picked up his bag, ready to leave. “She thinks she’s doing me a favor?” he growled under his breath. “I could be doing drills right now. This is such a damn waste of time.”

Just then, he heard hurried footsteps approaching from down the hall. A moment later, **she appeared**—slightly breathless, hair a little scattered from rushing, a notebook clutched in her hand. Linda.

“Hey,” she said, a little sheepishly. “Sorry I’m late. I got held up at the library. I—”

But Kelvin was already glaring at her. “Fifteen minutes late. For something *you’re* supposed to be leading?”

Linda opened her mouth to respond but paused, reading his expression.

“You know what?” Kelvin snapped. “Don’t bother with the excuses. People like you love talking about how serious you are, how smart and responsible, but when it’s time to deliver, you can’t even respect time.”

Linda blinked, clearly taken aback.

“I’m not one of those desperate kids begging for tutoring, okay?” Kelvin continued, walking past her. “I didn’t even ask for this. They forced me into it. So if you think you can just show up whenever and act like it’s okay—think again.”

“I said I’m sorry,” Linda said, her voice calmer than he expected. “I didn’t mean to waste your time.”

“Too late,” he said, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. “I don’t have time for unserious people.”

She didn’t respond. She just stood there, lips pressed into a firm line, letting him walk out.

Kelvin stormed down the stairs and out into the warm afternoon air. The breeze hit his face, but it didn’t cool the fire burning in his chest. How dare she? If she was going to be this careless on the first day, what would the rest of the sessions look like? He was Kelvin Bloomberg—captain of the basketball team, future pro baller. He didn’t need some stuck-up bookworm treating him like he wasn’t important.

There was only one person he could talk to about this.

Coach Daniel

By the time Kelvin got to the coach’s office near the training facility, he had already replayed the scene in his head a dozen times. Maybe the coach would let him switch to someone else. Maybe there were other tutors available—people who respected time, who understood the kind of pressure he was under.

Coach Daniel was seated behind his desk, looking over some notes. He looked up as Kelvin walked in.

“Kelvin,” he said. “You’re supposed to be with Linda, aren’t you?”

“I was,” Kelvin said sharply. “Or at least I tried to be. She showed up fifteen minutes late.”

Coach Daniel raised an eyebrow. “Late?”

“Yes. I was there at 4 PM on the dot. She didn’t show until 4:15. Didn’t even text. Just walked in like she was doing me a favor.”

Coach Daniel leaned back in his chair and sighed. “I see.”

“I’m not doing this with someone who doesn’t value my time,” Kelvin added. “There has to be someone else.”

But instead of nodding in agreement, Coach Daniel’s face took on a more serious expression.

“Kelvin,” he said slowly. “Listen to me carefully. You’re not doing *her* a favor. She’s not doing *you* a favor either. This is about your future. You want to go pro? You have to pass. And if you want to pass, you need Linda.”

“But—”

“She’s the best in her department. She didn’t volunteer to do this; she was asked because I insisted on the best for you. She didn’t even want to take on tutoring, but she agreed because I told her how important it was.”

Kelvin folded his arms across his chest. “She was still late.”

“I know. And I’ll talk to her about it. But you don’t get to choose your tutor, not in this situation. You’re not exactly topping your classes, Kelvin.”

Kelvin’s jaw tightened. He hated how true that was.

“You’re stuck with her,” Coach Daniel said firmly. “So manage her. Work with her. Get over your ego. Because if you don’t, you’ll be sitting at home watching the draft on TV instead of standing on that stage.”

There was a silence between them, heavy with unspoken tension. Kelvin looked away, jaw clenched. He didn’t like the feeling in his chest—the feeling that maybe, just maybe, *he* was the one who needed to adjust.

He nodded stiffly.

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll manage her.”

Coach Daniel gave a single approving nod, then turned back to his paperwork.

As Kelvin walked out of the office, he felt a storm of emotions swirling inside him—frustration, pride, shame, even a little curiosity. He hadn’t expected Linda to be so composed even after his outburst. Maybe there was more to her than just the final-year “brilliant” label.

But still, she had to earn his respect. If this was going to work, he wasn’t going to let anyone drag him down—not even a genius who couldn’t show up on time.