Holly Winslow tilted up her fresh face, blinked, and said, "So even the 700-point Scholar Quincy needs tutoring."
Mortimer Quincy slung the pink backpack over his left shoulder. With a slight arch of his brow, the corners of his eyes lifting, he said in a low, husky voice, "I'm here with my wifey."
"Who's your wifey? I haven't married you, you know."
With that, Holly Winslow broke into a light jog, her jet-black ponytail bouncing with every step.
Mortimer Quincy chuckled, strode forward on his long legs, and quickly caught up, wrapping an arm around her waist. "Hm? Say that again, wifey. Your hubby didn't hear you clearly."
...
The two of them entered the tutoring classroom just in the nick of time. There were no seats left in the front, so they found a pair of seats at the very back and sat down, ending up as desk mates.
