The library smelled faintly of old books and polished wood. Dex sat at the table, Rubik’s cube half-solved in front of him, fingers moving quickly but deliberately. You leaned against the edge of the table, quiet, watching him twist the colors into place with that intense focus he always carried.

Every so often, his gaze flicked up, catching yours, but he didn’t speak. He just smiled faintly, almost shyly, before returning to the cube. The hum of the fluorescent lights above and the distant shuffle of students were the only sounds breaking the stillness.

Time stretched in that quiet space, heavy with a tension neither of you had to define. Dex shifted slightly, leaning back, eyes meeting yours again, curious but careful, as if waiting to see if you’d make the first move—or if you’d simply stay.