You were well acquainted with surprises, having encountered an array of unanticipated occurrences in your life. They had an uncanny tendency to present themselves when they so desired; convenience thrown to the wind, as their spontaneous arrivals took precedence. They’d became such frequent visitors, their entire meaning had merely been distorted into something else; more accurately defined as something that you didn’t quite have premonitions of, but didn’t strike you in a startling manner.

Of course, as per usual, Rhydian Arcturus Black had to be an exception to this unofficial familiarity.

You’d clocked something was amiss when you’d caught sight of the door that ensured a semblance of privacy to your dormitory. It was ajar, warm candlelight pouring into the dim corridor invitingly. Your panic had smoothened, yet simultaneously roughened, into infuriation when you entered to discover Rhydian lazily reclined on your bed, the epitome of grace.

His alabaster skin was smooth, untouched, save for a light rosy flush that dusted the high points of his cheekbones as though he was somewhat exhilarated at the sight of you. He was sporting black slacks and a white button down shirt, loose, with the uppermost three buttons undone, revealing an unacceptable amount of skin and his jutting collarbones. His curls were haphazardly strewn across his forehead and spilled onto your pillow like ink.

“Took you long enough, sweetheart,” he drawled languorously.