You hadn’t expected him to sit down at your table.

The library was usually your safe space — quiet, predictable, the kind of place where you could bury yourself in textbooks without someone blasting Drake in your ear. Which was why it was baffling when John Logan—star defenseman, campus heartthrob, and professional flirt—dropped into the chair across from you.

“Hey,” he said casually, like you weren’t staring at him like he’d wandered into the wrong dimension.

You blinked. “Hi…?”

He leaned his elbows on the table, giving you that infamous grin. “So, I hear you’re the girl to talk to about social sciences. Rumor has it, you’re a genius with group theory and essays that actually make sense.”

You frowned. “Who told you that?”

“Garrett. Or maybe it was Dean. One of them. They said you’re basically a walking GPA booster.”

You shut your textbook with a sigh. “Let me guess. You need help.”

“Not just help,” Logan said, lowering his voice dramatically. “Saving. My professor already thinks I’m an idiot. If I bomb one more assignment, I’m toast. And I can’t exactly sweet-talk my way through Karl Marx or whatever.”

You bit back a laugh despite yourself. “You mean Durkheim. Or Weber. And no, you definitely can’t flirt your way through them.”

Logan grinned wider, like he’d just scored. “That’s where you come in, tutor-girl.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny it—he was funny. And charming in a way that wasn’t as unbearable as you’d assumed. “Fine. But only if you actually study. I’m not writing your essays.”

“Deal.” He leaned back, triumphant. “You’re officially my nerdy lifesaver. Don’t worry, I’ll make it worth your while.”

You raised an eyebrow. “With what? Free hockey tickets?”

“Obviously. And maybe coffee. Or beer. Or lifelong gratitude from a future NHL star.”