Translator: 549690339
Her deep-rooted memories of Steve Burton began when she started sitting on the backseat of his bike every day.
Actually, she couldn’t quite remember how Steve started giving her a ride to and from school each day.
In her memories of elementary school, Steve would help her solve her homework every morning.
Initially, they would do her homework together, but then it became just Steve doing it, while she held a comic book or a cup of milk tea, watching him write.
With such a ready-made homework solver, she became even more lazy and unwilling to do her homework.
As her class level went up, the amount of homework increased, and Steve entered the sixth grade of elementary school, preparing for the exam to enter junior high school.
However, even so, Steve still helped her with her homework every morning, rain or shine.
Back then, Steve had a really good temper. At least in Ruby’s memory, although he had a sharp tongue, he never gave her the cold shoulder.
And because no matter what she said or did, he never got angry with her, she became somewhat unbridled in front of him.
Though so many years had passed, Ruby clearly remembered that by the time Steve finally stopped helping her with her homework, she didn’t feel grateful at all. Instead, she took it for granted, and even when she had a pile of homework that he couldn’t finish, she didn’t offer to help but complained with a disappointed face, huffing, “Steve, are your test scores fake or something?”
“You’re writing this fourth-grade homework so hesitantly and sluggishly. Did you only get into the sixth grade because you used your wealthy Burton family connections?”
“Oh, Steve, can you hurry up? Our class leader keeps track of who enters the classroom first, and I want to be the first one in!”
Sometimes, when Steve was annoyed by her nagging, he would finish her homework, pack it neatly with her textbook into her backpack, and coldly say, “Don’t ask me to help you with your homework tomorrow!”
After that, he would wear an aloof and unreachable expression, slinging his bag over his shoulder, and walk toward his own classroom without even glancing at her.
Yet, the next morning, Steve would still show up on time at the Gregory’s doorstep, ready to take her to school, park their bike, and, ignoring his words from the day before, grab her backpack and ask, “What was yesterday’s homework?”
Although he could forget what he said at any time, she didn’t. Staring with wide eyes and pursed lips, she would say, “Weren’t you not going to help me with my homework?”
When she reminded him of his own words, he didn’t feel embarrassed or at a loss for words. Instead, he casually raised his head, glanced at her, and said, “You think I care about helping you?” while his hands had already found the teacher’s assignment card, and he began to imitate her handwriting and write..