When Sean heard of my SAT scores for the first time, to say he was shocked would be an understatement. I did even worse the second time around.

"Yes, that's all three subjects added together, not just two," I said when his silence greeted me.

"Did you study for it?" He was trying to sound nonchalant so he didn't hurt my feelings.

"Somewhat." I didn't want to hurt his feelings either, with the truth.

He raised his eyebrows very quickly. "You won't suddenly get lucky just because you take it three times. If you don't work on your weaker areas, you'll probably still get the same results."

What weaker areas? I was equally bad at all of them. I knew he was just trying to help, but that was a very touchy subject. I was on edge and very irritable. "That sounds like a threat. You really don't have to help me."

Of course he totally ignored my protest, and ever since our family dinner he had become very determined in pulling me up from the abyss of self-depreciation. We had already cut down on our valuable dating time, and now whenever he came over to my place he planned on grinding me about studying.

"This is how you do it." Sean picked up a pen. He was going over the mock test I did earlier which was a sea of wrong answers. The few questions I got right looked like it was drowning in red. He started to scrawl on a piece of paper to demonstrate how to solve the problems.

I was transfixed, but I was really staring at his face. I hadn't noticed earlier how he'd absently bite on his lower lip when he was calculating, and I didn't understand how I could've missed it. It was so distractingly provocative.

He put down his pen and I jumped. "Flora, you're not listening."

"Sorry," I mumbled. "It's not entirely my fault, you know. Tutors aren't supposed to be that hot."

I thought he would at least have the decency to smile since I just paid him a compliment, but no, he looked at me sternly and said, "This is very important. You won't have time to take it again. Some of the college application deadlines are by the end of the year, and you want to send your test results in. You really need to concentrate now."

I knew that, obviously. Everything he said was true, but he could've said it in a nicer way. Sean was almost always right, but he was so sensible sometimes he forgot I was an emotional girl who acted and said things on impulse. Instead of coaxing me he would give me a lecture, and I could never win an argument with him.

I remembered how intense he used to be with me the second we were alone. Nowadays he only talked responsibilities and priorities, as if he didn't quite want me anymore.

Now, when I was calm and thinking rationally, I knew he was doing it completely for my sake, because let's face it, what joy could it bring him to correct my tests? But often at the heat of the moment, when I combined my frustration with my intelligence (or the lack of it), the pressure of applying for college, the insecurity that my boyfriend's infatuation with me was wearing off, and my parents' obvious pride over my elder brothers...I often reacted unreasonably and a fight of various scale would spin from there.

"I don't really need to go to college," I'd basically grasp anything to say. "Lots of people do very well without it. It's a myth that you need a diploma to succeed in life."

"You don't have to go to college, that's true. I agree college education isn't everything, but I don't want to spend thirty minutes debating with you about the pros and cons of it," he said. "You don't have to convince me. Convince yourself. Do you really not want to go? Or are you just too lazy to work for it so you're acting like you don't care?"

He really didn't have to be so brutally honest. Sometimes I just wanted to whine a little and hear him say a few nice words so I could unwillingly go back to work, but he made it so easy to get mad at him.

"I'm not acting like I don't care," I said. "Do you know SAT scores are closely correlated with IQ and studying for it doesn't really help?"

"You wanna know what I think? I think you're afraid to try," Sean said. "You're afraid to find out you still can't make it even if you try."

If that wasn't asking for a fight, I don't know what was. "Don't pull a Janet and start psychoanalyzing me!"

He sighed. "I didn't say that to be mean. I just want to wake up your competitive inner goddess."

My competitive inner goddess was ready for war. "SAT score isn't the only thing they're going to look at," I said, crossing my arms. I almost sounded like I was accusing him. "Otherwise people with perfect scores would just get accepted everywhere."

"Yes, but that's no reason to deliberately do lousy on it to test that theory." My defense was so weak I just gave him all angles of attack. "Besides, it's something you still have time to work on." The unspoken words were that he couldn't save my G.P.A which was the result of me wasting away my 3.5 years of high school life, and it was too late to sign up for volunteer work now.

I always got defensive and nasty, and he would get mad. The fights cut into our time together like ugly molds on the white wall of the math classroom, but at some point the sensitive side of Sean would kick in and he knew I was just frustrated and upset. It's amazing how I could always sense that moment when he decided he had been too hard on me, and he would soften instantly. He leaned in closer and kissed my hair.

"Let's not fight, baby. You know we want the same thing."

I sighed. "Yeah. We want sex."

He laughed. "True. But that comes later." He pulled the test in front of me. "Come on, this is one of the few things in life that I actually know a little more than you. Let me help you," he said, his face all earnest, like I was doing him a favor.

I forced a smile and nodded.

"If this really is correlated with IQ, you should do amazing. I know you can."

"The smartest part of me is my boyfriend," I grumbled. "I'm like a beautiful antique vase, great for admiring, but nothing on the inside."

He rolled his eyes. "Enough with the self-pity. Surely you can put that witty brain of yours to better use than coming up with analogies and...plotting revenge against me."

Still holding a grudge, are we? "Fine, fine."

"You need to concentrate now, okay?" He pressed his hands on both sides of my face and directed it so I was staring at the test. "You have 70 minutes to complete the math section."

I groaned as he set the alarm. Everything about him had to be so precise.

He patted my head and moved in to whisper, "You can have sex with me if you get more than 650 points."

That was the weirdest sexual fantasy I'd ever heard. "Wow. I know money can buy sex, but I didn't know SAT points can, too," I said. I glanced at his face and saw that his lips were curled up, looking cute.

"Yeah, what kind of guy do you take me for? I don't sleep with just anyone."

I laughed and dove into my mock test. Having a hot tutor had its advantages too.

***

After the SAT was underway, Sean started bugging me about college applications. "Are you serious about becoming a fashion editor?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Okay, do you know how to become one?"

I felt a lecture coming on. "Have amazing fashion sense?"

"Yes, but tweeting about what you wear everyday isn't enough," he said, which was quite unfair because that was hardly what I tweeted about. I tweeted about him. "I did some research."

I pictured Sean googling about fashion and had to smile. It must've been an adorable sight. "Okay, let's hear it."

"Well, it seems the most important thing is you need to intern at a magazine during college, and if you have a degree in journalism or communications, it'd help too. I think you might want to go to one of the schools in New York as there're more intern chances."

"I'd love to go to New York!" How exciting! And it wasn't too far from MIT! I mean, not impossibly far. Not that I wanted to admit I'd still like to see him in college because it seemed so uncool.

"NYU, FIT, Barnard College or Columbia," he rattled off. "I think you can get into all of them."

He had such blind faith in me it was endearing. "Hello, Columbia? I don't think so."

"It's not impossible. Have you decided on the photos you want to send in yet?"

I hit him and he laughed. He grabbed my hand and held it in his before he started talking again. "I hate to inform you this, but going to runway shows should help too. So if you ever need to go see Lanvin's new collection again, you can drag me with you."

I was silent for a second as my heart expanded like a balloon under hot air. It was just a simple offer, but I was more touched by this offer than him actually giving me a Lanvin necklace. I knew Sean didn't care about fashion at all and he thought I spent way too much money and that I fell right into the traps of heartless merchants. He didn't like it when I wasted time picking out what to wear, and he couldn't tell the difference between my shoes except from heels or flats, but he was willing to help because he knew it was what I wanted.

"You're very sweet, you know that?" I said, my heart full. "You really care about my future."

"No, I care about runway models and free drinks, and I love those tiny snacks that left me hungrier than before I started," he said with a deadpan expression and I chuckled.

He smiled. "Of course I care about your future." He gazed at me and after a second, he looked down and said in a low voice, "It's sort of my future too."

After he said it we were both caught in a moment of embarrassed silence. We were high school seniors about to apply for college, and at this moment in life it seemed to be a point of considering what we wanted as mid-term goals (our short-term goal was completed twenty minutes ago on my bed).

"Do you seriously think we can make it past graduation?" I whispered, ridiculously afraid that I'd jinx it if I said it out loud.

"I can't think of any reason that would make me want to break up with you."

I could actually think of eight billion reasons to break up over college. "But it's going to be a humongous change. I mean, high school love is hard to work, even though I really love you. Like really, really."

"I know the statistics, Flora, and you know me. I'm pretty rational. But I know this is what I want." His eyes blazed, like a supernova blinking in the galaxy, and it made me feverish as always. "You have to believe it yourself before it has a chance to work."

"I just never thought a person can be lucky enough to meet the love of their life in high school." I exhaled. Not that I hadn't imagined kissing him for the rest of my life. It wasn't a bad thought. "What color dress do you think I should wear on the wedding? White is classic, of course..."

"I really like you in red. By the way, I can do without the white chocolate fountain at the wedding reception," he played along.

"I don't want kids."

"I don't either. Or any form of animal. Not even fish."

"You have to take out the trash and remember to put down the toilet seat."

"That's not a problem," he said, "if you promise we spend Christmas with my side of the family in Miami."

I laughed. "We'll take turns."

"And I want to have sex at least five times a week."

"This part I can actually promise you right now," I agreed, although we were failing as a starry-eyed, newly-in-love couple. Sex had given way to studying, of course.

Fantasizing about married life was weirdly stimulating for me. I imagined coming home to him every day and looking into his beautiful eyes, and I let out a wistful sigh. It seemed more farfetched than becoming a fashion editor.

"I don't really think about if we'll get married," he started talking again. "It's just that we can take it one day at a time. Maybe we'll get lucky. A day turns into a month into a year into...forever." He stopped.

I stared at him in stunned silence. Forever?

He smiled shyly. "I apologize for the sappiness. Sorry for mentioning the f word."

With guys, it's the thought that counts, right? I gave him a thorough once-over, my perfect boyfriend, and at that moment I honestly believed I could never find anyone better than he was.

I smiled. "You know what? Forever sounds kind of hot."

***