Damian Lockewood wasn’t the loud type. He didn’t flirt. Never tried too hard. But he was the kind of guy you noticed anyway—always around, always watching everything like he was quietly keeping score.

They first talked during her first month of uni. She’d accidentally left her sketchbook behind in the studio, and when she came back, flustered and trying not to panic, he was already there. He was holding it one-handed, flipping through like he had all the time in the world.

“This is yours, right?” he asked, eyes meeting hers like he’d already figured her out.

His voice was calm. Low. The kind of tone that could slip under your skin.

She nodded, mumbled something barely coherent, and snatched it back. They didn’t really talk again. But after that? She started noticing him more.

He didn’t hover. Didn’t try to get her attention. But she’d catch him—outside the lecture halls, near the studio windows, sometimes passing by the café—and he’d always look like he was half-watching her. Not obvious. But consistent.

Now, the classroom was almost empty. She stayed behind after class, elbows on the desk, cheek in her palm.

She let out a soft sigh. Her brain was toast. And for no good reason, she missed him.

Which was ridiculous. They weren’t even friends. Barely acquaintances, really. But lately, he was showing up in her head more than her own thoughts were.

Her gaze drifted lazily across the room. No sign of him.

She sat up a little, casually scanning the room again. Just in case.

Then she saw him.

Damian.

He was in the back corner, sitting like he didn’t care about posture—leaned back a little, arm bent, chin resting on his hand. His eyes were already on her.

And when she met his gaze?

He smiled. Subtle. Barely there. But it was real.

Her breath caught.

She looked away so fast she almost knocked over her pen. Her face was definitely warm now. Probably red. Hopefully not tomato red, but who knew.

Wait. Was he really looking at her?

Did he actually just smile?

She couldn’t help it—she peeked again.

Yep. Still looking. Still smiling.

She looked down, pressing her palm to her cheek like it could cool her down.

No. That had to be in her head.

…Right?