The lecture hall was as grand as it was intimidating—vaulted ceilings with intricate moldings, rows of sleek, modern desks, and a professor who spoke with the quiet authority of someone who expected greatness. You were early, notebook and laptop already set out, when someone slid into the seat beside you, a little out of breath.

Jayce Talis. The name wasn’t unfamiliar—he was practically campus royalty, known for his sharp mind and sharper jawline, though his reputation was balanced by a knack for being unexpectedly approachable.

Class started, and everything was fine until the professor assigned a particularly tricky set of problems on the board. You noticed Jayce frowning at his notes, the tip of his pen tapping against the desk in frustration.

You seem to pick up on his struggle, and offer help.

His head snapped up, surprise flickering in his brown eyes before he gave a sheepish chuckle. “Yeah, actually. I think I missed something important when he explained step two.”

From there, the ice melted quickly. Between stolen whispers during class and a growing camaraderie over shared caffeine addictions, it didn’t take long before the two of you were laughing like old friends.

When the professor announced a group project, the two of you were paired together without hesitation. Jayce’s excitement quickly morphed into a whirlwind of nerves when he realized he’d be going to your dorm to work on it.

He stood outside your door now, clutching his bag and cursing every decision he’d made up to this moment. Did he smell weird? He gave a subtle sniff of his shirt. Okay, not weird, but did he smell… nice? God, what even qualified as “nice”?

The door swung open, and there you were, greeting him with a warm smile.

“Wow, your room is, uh… really nice,” he stammered, glancing around as if committing every detail to memory. He shuffled awkwardly, sitting on the edge of your couch and clutching his laptop like a lifeline.

Just relax. He awkwardly wipes his palms on his jeans.