Auto Saved Word Count 3058/70
The room smelled like chalk dust and bad coffee. I leaned back in my chair, balancing it on two legs just enough to irritate the professor if he looked my way. He didn't. His glasses slid down his nose as he droned on about something I already wasn't listening to. I never do.
My eyes wandered instead, scanning the room, counting heads out of boredom. Same faces, same expressions—half-dead, half-distracted. Then she walked in.
Late. Of course.
The door creaked as she pushed it open, and a dozen eyes followed her, but she didn't flinch. She carried herself with this quiet stubbornness, like she didn't owe anyone an apology for being late. A heavy book hugged her chest, her knuckles tight against the spine, and her dark hair slipped over one shoulder as she slid into an empty seat near the window.
I tilted my head, smirking.
She didn't look like she belonged here, not in this world of monotony and half-asleep faces. She was... sharper. Eyes scanning the board like she'd missed nothing, pen already scribbling. She was trying too hard, which in itself was fascinating. Most people try to blend in. She looked like she was carrying secrets under her skin, and she hated the idea of anyone finding them.
I tapped my pen against my desk, studying her profile. Strong jawline. Steady hands. But her lip caught between her teeth betrayed something else—nerves.
People like that always catch my attention. Because they fight so damn hard to stay invisible.
She finally glanced around the room, probably just a quick scan, but her gaze snagged on mine. Just for a second. Long enough for me to see it—the flicker. Annoyance? Curiosity? Maybe both.
I grinned at her. Slow. Deliberate.
She looked away first.
"Interesting."