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The library was quieter than usual, its silence broken only by the occasional flick of a page or the distant hum of the air conditioner. Ariana sat at the far end, nervously twisting the drawstring of her hoodie as her eyes darted between her notebook and the clock.
She was early. Of course she was.
Then, he walked in.
Rowan.
With his hoodie slung half-off his shoulder, headphones hanging around his neck, and that effortlessly messy hair, he spotted her instantly. A grin tugged at his lips as he strolled over.
"Hey. You're punctual."
She looked up, startled, then nodded quickly. "Yeah… I like being early."
He slid into the chair beside her—not across from her, but beside her—and the space suddenly felt ten degrees warmer.
They began discussing the project—something about social structures in ancient civilizations—but Ariana could barely concentrate. She was hyper-aware of how close he was. The faint scent of his cologne, like cedar and something citrusy, teased her senses every time he leaned in.
He looked over her notes. "Wow. You write small."
"Sorry," she said automatically, moving to pull the notebook away.
But he stopped her—gently, fingers brushing hers. "No, I like it. It's neat. Just… intense." His smile was easy. "Kind of like you."
Her heart hiccupped.
Did he just—
"Sorry," he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck, "that probably sounded weird."
"No, it's—fine," she murmured, cheeks hot.
They worked in quiet tandem for a while. Ariana's hand moved steadily across the page, and Zayden occasionally pointed things out, his fingers brushing hers just a little too often to be coincidence.
Then, a moment of silence.
He was staring at her. Not in a creepy way. In a curious way, like he was trying to read something she hadn't written down.
"You're not like the other girls here," he said finally.
Her pen paused. "What do you mean?"
"I don't know… they're loud. Always trying to outshine each other. But you…" He paused, eyes soft. "You're quiet. But I notice you."
The words hit her like a thunderclap. Her throat tightened, but she managed a tiny, incredulous smile.
And then—he reached for her pen.
"Here," he said, scribbling something in the corner of her notebook.
She looked.
> Your handwriting's cool. And so are you. – Z.
She blinked, stunned.
"Just in case you forget," he added
with a wink.
Ariana didn't forget. She wouldn't.
Not ever.