The Nerd Who Stole The Quarterback (Astra and Zayne) novel Chapter 62

Chapter 62

Chapter 62

ZANE

The library was quiet.

I sat at the long mahogany table in the center, legs spread wide, one arm draped over the back of the chair. In front of he were stacks of books, AP Calculus, British Literature, U.S. Government. The subjects I was failing. The ones my father wanted her to fix.

But I wasn’t thinking about grades.

I was thinking about her.

About the way she’d trembled when I licked her cheek. The way her soft lips had closed around my thumb. The way she looked holding Lucas like she was born to nurture.

My cock twitched again at the memory.

I checked the time on my phone.

She was late.

Just as that thought crossed my mind, the library door opened.

Astra walked in.

She was wearing a soft knee-length cream gown that hugged her full curves, the fabric flowing gently over her curvy figure. A light white jacket was draped over her shoulders, and her long golden blonde hair was pulled up into a high ponytail that swayed with every step.

She looked fucking edible.

Her cheeks were already flushed pink as she approached the table. She avoided my eyes, pulling out the chair opposite me and sitting down carefully.

The silence stretched for a second.

She cleared her throat, voice small.

“So… what are we going to study first?”

I didn’t answer right away.

I just leaned back in my chair and stared at her. My eyes dragged slowly from her flushed cheeks, down to the way the gown stretched across her full tits, then lower to where the fabric rested on her soft thighs.

She squirmed under my gaze, her smooth skin turning even redder.

“Zane…” she whispered, voice shaky.

I smirked.

“Calculus,” I finally said, pushing the textbook toward her. “But I’m not really in the mood to study right now.”

Her eyes widened slightly.

I rested my chin on my fist, still staring at her like a predator.

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Chapter 62

“You’re blushing again,” I murmured. “Does sitting here alone with me make you nervous, Trash-tra?”

She bit her lip, then quickly stopped when she remembered how much I liked that.

“I’m just here to tutor you,” she said quietly, opening the book with trembling fingers. “That’s all.”

I chuckled darkly.

“We’ll see how long that lasts.”

I leaned forward, voice dropping low.

“Because every time you look at me, I can see it in your eyes. You’re still thinking about me and how wet you got for me

Her smooth cheeks burned even darker.

She looked down at the book, trying to hide, but I could see her thighs pressing together under the table.

Then she cleared her throat, still avoiding my eyes.

“We… we should start with Calculus,” she said softly. “Where exactly are you struggling?”

I smirked, leaning back in my chair.

“Derivatives,” I answered. “Specifically the chain rule and implicit differentiation. I keep fucking them up on tests.”

She nodded, visibly relieved to have something academic to focus on. She flipped through the textbook and found a page with examples.

“Okay,” she said, trying to sound professional. “Let’s start with the chain rule. It’s for when you have a composite function, something inside something else.”

She turned the book toward me and pointed at an example.

“Like y = (3x+5). You can’t just use the power rule directly. You let u = 3x’ + 5, then y = u’. So dy/dx = dy/du du/dx.”

Her voice was soft but clear as she explained.

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“dy/du is 4u’, and du/dx is 6x. So overall, dy/dx = 4(3×2 + 5)’ × 6x.”

She looked up at me, expecting me to follow.

But my eyes were fixed on her mouth, the way her lips moved when she said “derivative,” how they looked still slightly swollen from when her pushed my fingers into her mouth.

“Zane,” she said, cheeks turning pink again. “Focus.”

I smirked slowly.

“Okay, teach.”

She exhaled and continued, a little more flustered now.

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“Let’s try implicit differentiation. Sometimes you have equations like x + y 25. You differentiate both sides with respect to x. So 2x+2y(dy/dx) = 0. Then you solve for dy/dx: dy/dx = -x/y.”

She wrote it down neatly on a notebook she’d brought.

“See? You treat y as a function of x, so you use the chain rule on it.”

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I was nodding, but my gaze kept dropping back to her lips. The way they parted when she explained. The way she bit the bottom one when she was thinking.

She noticed again.

“Zane,” she whispered, voice slightly shaky. “You’re not even looking at the book.”

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table, voice dropping.

“I’m looking at something much more interesting.”

Her cheeks burned bright red. She quickly looked back down at the textbook, fingers trembling slightly as she turned the

page.

“We… we should do a few practice questions,” she mumbled, clearly trying to regain control.

I smirked, watching her squirm.

This tutoring session was going to be a lot more fun than I expected.

Eventually I decided to actually focus.

For the next twenty minutes, I pushed everything else aside and paid attention.

Astra was a surprisingly good teacher, patient, clear, and she didn’t talk down to me. She explained things in a way that actually made sense.

We started with the chain rule again. She gave me a few practice problems, and I worked through them.

“This one,” I said, pointing at the paper. “y = (2x’ + 5x)’. I keep messing up the derivative.”

She leaned forward slightly, ponytail slipping over her shoulder.

“Okay, let u 2x+ 5x, then y = u’. So dy/du 6u’, and du/dx = 6x + 5. Therefore, dy/dx = 6(2x’ + 5x) x (6x’ + 5).”

I wrote it down, then did the next one myself.

She checked my work and nodded.

“That’s correct. Good.”

We moved on to implicit differentiation. I asked about a problem that had been fucking with me for weeks.

“What if the equation is x’y+y’ = 8? I always get stuck on the product rule part.”

Astra explained calmly.

“You differentiate both sides with respect to x. So for x’y, it’s product rule: 2x-y+ x’ (dy/dx). Then for y’ it’s 3y'(dy/dx). Right side is 0. So overall: 2xy + x'(dy/dx)+ 3y'(dy/dx) 0. Then you solve for dy/dx: x'(dy/dx)+ 3y'(dy/dx) -2xy. Factor; dy/dx (x +3y’) = -2xy. So dy/dx = -2xy/(x’ + 3y’).”

I worked through two more problems on my own. She corrected me gently when I made a small mistake on the second one.

“You’re actually getting it,” she said, sounding quietly pleased. “You just needed someone to slow it down.”

I smirked.

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