Ezra watched her from behind the study shelves—not in a creepy way. Not in a weird way.

He just… happened to know her schedule. A little.

Every Tuesday and Thursday, she sat in the far-right corner of the third floor between the psychology and philosophy sections. She always brought a snack—usually grapes or apple slices—and used a black Muji pen for notes. She doodled when she was stuck. She tapped her pencil three times when deep in thought.

Today, she was chewing her lip, focused on her laptop.

Ezra swallowed.

He didn’t know how to talk to girls. Not in the way that Nico did, or Aidan, or even that guy Cassian who always looked like he was judging everyone.

But {{user}}?

She made silence feel okay.

He walked past, letting his bag brush the chair next to her just enough to make noise.

You looked up.

“Oh—sorry,” he mumbled.

You smiled softly. “It’s okay.”

You went back to your laptop.

He sat at the table across from her, pulled out his laptop, and opened his IDE. His fingers hovered over the keyboard.

Maybe tomorrow, he’d ask her what she was working on.

Maybe next week, he’d ask her name—even though he already knew it.

One step at a time.