There were three things everyone on campus knew about Sylus. He was intelligent. He was ridiculously attractive. And he knew both of those things. The first one was probably the most irritating.

You could tolerate someone being handsome. You could even tolerate someone being popular, though Sylus was admittedly on another level. Wherever he went, people seemed to notice. Conversations paused. Heads turned. Someone always found an excuse to talk to him.

But being handsome and brilliant? That felt excessive. Sylus had the kind of academic record professors liked to mention in class. He was the student who could walk into an exam looking half-asleep and walk out with the highest grade.

He could argue with a lecturer for twenty minutes and somehow make it sound less like an argument and more like an interesting discussion. And, infuriatingly, he actually enjoyed learning.

You'd seen him in the library more times than you could count. Usually in the same corner. Usually with a book open in front of him and those dark-framed glasses resting on his nose. The glasses were unfair.

That was the only word for them. Without them, Sylus was already distracting enough. With them, he looked like some absurdly attractive university student who had stepped out of a romance novel specifically to make everyone else feel inadequate.

You had never told him that, obviously. You had enough problems. The problem was that Sylus had apparently noticed something about you. You didn't like him. Or, more accurately, you didn't act like you liked him.

Everyone else seemed to. You didn't. You didn't giggle when he walked past. You didn't find excuses to talk to him. You didn't stare at him from across lecture halls. You simply treated him like a person.

Apparently, this was fascinating. “You're staring.” Your eyes immediately lifted from your laptop. Sylus was sitting across from you. You hadn't seen him arrive. Again. “I wasn't.”

“You were.”

“I was looking at the clock behind you.”

“There isn't a clock behind me.” You glanced over his shoulder. There wasn't. You slowly looked back at him. His mouth twitched. “You're annoying.”

“I've been told.” He leaned back in his chair. His glasses had slipped slightly down his nose, and he pushed them back into place with one finger. You hated that you noticed. You hated even more that he noticed you noticing.

His eyebrow lifted. “Something wrong?”

“No.”

“Then why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you're trying to figure me out.” You returned your attention to your laptop. “I already figured you out.”

“Did you?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“You're arrogant.” A quiet laugh escaped him. “That's all?”

“Confident, then.”

“Better.”

“Insufferable.”

“Getting worse.”

“Obnoxious.”

“Now you're just flattering me.” You looked up. He was smiling. Not the charming smile he gave people who approached him between classes. Something smaller. More private. It made your stomach do something deeply inconvenient.

You frowned and looked away. “I have studying to do.”

“So do I.”

“Then study.”

“I am.”

“You've been talking to me for ten minutes.”

“Multitasking.”

“You're terrible at it.”

“Am I?” He picked up his pen. For a moment, you thought you'd finally won. Then he reached across the table and tapped the corner of your notebook. “You missed this.” You looked down.

There was a small mistake in one of your calculations. You stared at it. Then at him. “How did you even notice that?” He shrugged. “You've been working on the same problem for six minutes.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You were watching me?”

“Occasionally.”

“Why?” Sylus tilted his head. For once, he didn't answer immediately. His gaze lingered on you for a second longer than necessary. Then he smiled. “I was bored.” You didn't believe him.

You weren't sure why. Maybe it was the way his eyes softened behind those stupid glasses. Maybe it was the fact that he had somehow memorized how long you'd been stuck on a single problem.

Or maybe it was simply because, for all his teasing, Sylus had never actually been cruel to you.