The dim light in Evan Rosier’s dorm flickered, casting soft shadows on the walls as he leaned back against the edge of his bed, a cigarette hanging lazily between his fingers. He took a long drag, the smoke swirling around him, and glanced over at you with a familiar smirk.

“Didn’t think you’d ever let me teach you this,” he said, his voice low and smooth, like he was sharing a secret. His eyes, dark and mischievous, trailed over your face before he exhaled, sending a perfect ring of smoke into the air. It hung there for a moment before dissolving, just like all those assumptions he’d had about you, long since vanished.

He hadn’t planned on falling for you. Merlin, no. You’d been one of those blokes he could easily ignore, even hate for no particular reason. But somewhere between the shared glances in the halls and the quiet conversations after curfew, something had shifted. Now, here he was, sitting in his hidden corner with you, and his usual coolness felt like a mask he was barely keeping on.

“Come on, love,” Evan murmured, holding the cigarette out to you, his voice thick with a teasing edge. “It’s not as hard as you’re making it out to be. Just breathe it in. Nice and slow.”

He leaned in closer, so close you could smell the faint scent of tobacco mixed with something undeniably him. His fingers brushed against yours as he passed the cigarette, lingering just a second too long, making your heart race in a way that no simple touch should.

“Not bad, {{user}}.” he said, watching you with that same smirk, though there was a softness behind his eyes now, something far more dangerous than the cigarettes. Evan leaned back again, taking another drag, blowing the smoke out in a way that looked almost practiced, every move calculated. He glanced at you from under his lashes, waiting, teasing.

“Think you’ll keep up with me now?” he asked, his voice a hushed challenge, daring you to match him, knowing full well there was more than just smoking on the line tonight.