The campus library looked different at night. Quieter, softer, shadows stretching long between the rows of books. Azraa hugged her sweater tightly as she pushed open the heavy doors of the library. She had a half mind to cancel—blame a headache, claim some other assignment—but she refused to give Xavier the satisfaction of thinking she'd backed out.
She spotted him instantly, sprawled at their usual corner table with his laptop open and a bag of chips at his elbow.
"You're late." He said without looking up.
"It's five-past-seven," she retorted taking the seat opposite him. "That's not late."
"Late is anything after me."
"Then everyone's late." She muttered pulling out her notes.
For a few blessed minutes, they worked in silence. Azraa tapped on her keyboard determined to ignore him. She would focus on Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics, on virtue and moderation and everything else that mattered. She would not focus on how the lamplight carved shadows across his face. How his eyes crinkled slightly when he was reading.
But then came the crunch.
She looked up. "Are you seriously eating in a library?"
He held up a piece of chips unbothered. "You want one?"
"No thanks, I'll pass."
"Good." He put it in his mouth with a grin.
She rolled her eyes but her lips twitched against her will. "You're impossible."
"you've told me that before."
" Cause it's true."
"And yet, here you are."
Her heart skipped a beat. She ducked her head pretending to read her notes. "Because I'm dedicated to this paper."
"Of course," leaning forward slightly. "It has nothing to do with me."
Her eyes snapped up,ready to fire back—but the look on his face stopped her. It wasn't his usual smirk. It was softer, curious, as though he was waiting for an answer she wasn't ready to give.
Azraa's chest tightened, she pulled her laptop closer. "We need to decide on the structure. Introduction, three body sections and a conclusion. I'll draft the opening."
" Fine," he said easily. "I'll take the middle."
But the silence that followed wasn't the same as before. It felt charged, like the pause between lighting and thunder. Everytime their hands brushed reaching for a pen or book, Azraa's breath caught. Everytime his gaze lingered to long, she felt it like a spark against her skin.
By this time the library lights flickered, warning of closing. Azraa's notes were a mess, she couldn't focus couldn't think straight.
Xavier stretched his arms above his head, shirt pulling just enough to reveal a little bit of skin. Azraa looked away so fast her head twinged."
"Same time tomorrow." He said casually, throwing his backpack over one shoulder.
She hesitated. Every instinct told her to say no, to run before this spun out of control. But her mouth betrayed her.
"Fine."
His smile slow and satisfied. "See you then, Whitehouse."
As they stepped into the cool night. Azraa told herself it was only about the essay. It had to be.
So why did her heart race the whole walk back to her hostel.
Friday afternoons were always crowded in the cafeteria, loud laughter and the faint smell of barbeque drifting across campus. Azraa usually avoided it, but her friends had begged her to come after class.
She slid into a seat, tray balanced properly when her stomach dropped. Just across the room was Xavier with a girl on his lap. Not just any girl, it was Louise Parker. Beautiful, stylish, everything a girl hoped to be—everything she hoped to be. Her hand was laying comfortably on his arm while he wrapped his hands around her waist, leaning into her.
Azraa stabbed her fork into her spaghetti. Hard.
"What's with the face?" Miranda asked raising a brow.
"Nothing," she forced a smile. "Just thinking about Aristotle."
She smirked. "Yeah, cause Aristotle makes you glare holes through people's head."
Azraa ignored her, shoving food into her mouth. She wasn't jealous. Absolutely not. It didn't matter who Xavier smiled at. He was just her rival, her partner, her constant source of irritation.
But when he caught her staring and winked at her. Her pulse betrayed her.
Later, when they met at the library to work, she was sharper than usual.
"You misspelled this term," she said curtly, pointing at his notes.
He leaned over her shoulders close enough that his breath tickled her ears. "Did I? Or you just looking for excuses to correct me."
She shoved the notebook back at him. "Maybe if you paid attention to your work instead of flirting around campus...."
He blinked, surprised. Then, slowly that maddening grin appeared. "Ah. So you were watching."
Heat surged to her cheeks. "I wasn't."
"You were," he said softly, leaning just a little closer. His voice wasn't mocking this time—it was searching, almost tender.
For a heartbeat, Azraa couldn't breathe. She hated he'd seen through her. She hated even more that a part of her enjoyed being seen.
She cleared her throat, slamming her notebook shut. "Focus, Sinclair. We have work to do."
But long after he'd gone, she kept replaying his smile—and the way her chest tightened at the thought of loosing his attention to someone else.
She couldn't sleep, the image of Xavier laughing with another girl kept flashing. The thought bothered her a lot more than she let on. If her mum was here, she would have told her what to do.
Her mum. She missed her badly, since her death, she hadn't had the time to mourn her properly. She was the only family she had, too bad she never met her dad and she didn't want to. He abandoned both of them. What was the use, she thought. She was much happier without him.
What bothered her most was the thought she might end up alone like her mother. She'd give her all to someone only to be betrayed, she couldn't let that happen. She had to remove Xavier from her heart and focus on her goal. To be a renowned scholar and no boy was ruining that.
Rain hammered against the windows of the library. Azraa's umbrella had betrayed her leaving her wet and shivering as she flipped through her notes.
Xavier appeared, tossing a towel in her head. "You'll catch a cold."
She blinked. "What—why?"
"Don't read too much into it," he muttered sitting across from her.
But she did, she couldn't help it.
As she dried her hair she noticed the way he kept glancing at her, as though he wanted to say more but couldn't. The silence stretched, softer than usual.
Finally she whispered. "You're not all bad, you know."
He looked startled. Then, slowly he smiled.
Something shifted that night, subtle but undeniable.