Inside the cafeteria.
After Michael left with his roommates, Evan glanced away and noticed Emily staring at him, looking kind of anxious.
"What's up?" he asked.
Emily shook her head like it was nothing, but then she hesitated and finally spoke up. "You're not mad, right?"
"Mad? Why would I be?" Evan raised an eyebrow, genuinely confused.
But then it clicked. "Wait, are you worried I'm angry because of Michael?"
Emily nodded, eyes wide and honest. "Really, I'm not close to him. We're classmates, sure, but I barely talk to him. He's invited me to dinner, but I always turn him down, so…"
She trailed off, clearly wanting to set the record straight. Evan just laughed and waved it off.
"You're giving me too much credit. I'm not that touchy," he said, cutting her off before she could keep explaining. "Honestly, it's normal for guys to go after you. It'd be weird if they didn't. I know you're not close with him, so you don't need to worry about me."
He meant it, too. He wasn't angry, not even a little. What kind of guy gets mad just because someone else is interested in his girlfriend? With the way Emily looks—her figure, her vibe—it would actually be strange if no one chased after her.
Blowing up over that just screams insecurity. If you're confident, you don't panic because your girlfriend's popular. You're proud, honestly, because people can look all they want, but you're the one she's with.
It's like, if you were a billionaire, would you care if someone else tried to woo your girlfriend? I wouldn't. Not even a little. Confidence comes from knowing what you bring to the table.
"Really, you're not angry?" Emily asked, letting out a little sigh when Evan nodded.
She could tell he meant it, and that put her at ease.
"Alright, let's eat." Evan said.
"Mmm," she said. But instead of eating, she dug around in her bag for a leather hair tie, pulled her hair up into a quick ponytail, then finally leaned in to eat.
While she ate, she realized why Evan wasn't mad. Of course he wasn't. A guy that confident isn't going to get jealous over something so small. Michael seemed decent, but Evan probably hadn't given him a second thought.
Thinking this, Emily glanced up at Evan. Good-looking, calm, self-assured—he had this quiet strength about him that went way beyond appearances.
She looked away and kept eating her breakfast. The better Evan was, the happier she felt.
…
Evan finished fast. Emily still had half her breakfast left. Evan watched her for a moment. Her hair, which she'd worn down, was now tied up high—nothing fancy, just a plain leather tie. Somehow, it looked perfect on her. With her hair up, her delicate features and slender neck stood out even more.
She had this open, sunny air about her.
Noticing his gaze, Emily looked up, curious. "What is it?"
"Nothing," he said, gesturing for her to keep eating.
She shrugged and dropped her head, finishing her meal.
Then his phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at the screen and then at Emily—just to make sure she wasn't paying attention—before unlocking it. It was a message from Lena.
"You're up early? I just woke up," she wrote, adding a yawning kitten emoji.
A second later, another message: "What are you doing now?"
Evan thought for a second, then snapped a quick photo of the table—empty plates, but no sign of Emily in the frame.
He sent the photo and typed, "Having breakfast with my roommates."
Lena replied, "Hmm, I'm a little hungry too, but I don't want to move. I just want to stay in bed."
Lena didn't have a single doubt in her mind. Right now, she was sprawled out on her bed, tapping away at her phone.
She was at home, so she'd just thrown on whatever—white tank top, black shorts. She looked amazing without even trying.
"Just lie down, then. It's not like we're doing anything," Evan texted back, probably grinning.
He could totally picture her, too—still in bed, not in any rush to get up.
"Hehe." Lena sent back her trademark lazy laugh, and they kept chatting, messages bouncing back and forth.
"I'm done eating. Ready to go?" Emily said, dabbing at her mouth with a tissue. She looked over at Evan.
"Yeah, let's go." He nodded and shot off a quick message to Lena.
"Gotta run. Going to class."
"Alright, go do your thing. I'll check on my best friend next door—see if she's up, maybe get her something to eat," Lena replied right away.
Evan didn't bother texting back, just locked his phone and stuffed it in his pocket.
After Evan and Emily finished their breakfast, they paid the bill and headed toward their respective classes. At the crossroads near the cafeteria, they parted ways, exchanging a brief glance before disappearing into different directions.
Evan had barely taken a few steps when he spotted his dorm partner ahead, walking toward the same building as him. The familiar sight eased his pace, and he quickened his steps to catch up Jack and Ryan falling into stride beside him as they continued toward class together.
Evan, Jack, and Ryan walked in together. Most of the class was already there. The room was packed—mostly girls, which wasn't surprising for a teacher training college.
At first, none of the girls paid Evan any attention. They were chatting in small dorm groups, absorbed in their own circles.
Even after nearly a month of classes, everyone still felt a little distant. Meals, classes, even hanging out—everything revolved around your dorm.
Evan headed straight for the back row by the window, Jack and Ryan following behind him.
That was when something changed.
A girl froze mid-sentence when she spotted him. Her eyes widened, and she nudged the roommate beside her.
"What?" the roommate whispered, confused.
"Wait… do we have a guy like that in our class? How did I never notice him before?
He's actually—really handsome."
She kept sneaking glances at Evan, unable to help herself.
"Who?" the roommate turned to look—and instantly went quiet.
Evan looked completely different. New haircut. Better clothes. Clean, confident aura. Compared to before, it was like he'd stepped into a different version of himself. Even the roommate was stunned.
"Oh—him. Evan, right? He is in our class. But before… he was just normal. Didn't stand out at all."
She paused, eyes still on him.
"But now? He feels like a totally different person."
Another girl leaned over, whispering something similar. Soon, little conversations like that started spreading across the classroom. Girls glanced his way, whispered, then glanced again.
It was simple human nature. Guys liked pretty girls. Girls liked handsome guys. Right now,
Evan checked all the boxes. The style. The calm confidence. He stood out without even trying.
Four girls sat in the front row, all from the same dorm.
Anna nudged the girl beside her.
"Grace, since when did our class have someone this good-looking?"
The girl she spoke to had a refined, graceful beauty—soft features, elegant posture. That was Grace, the class monitor. and widely acknowledged as the prettiest girl in the class.
Grace hummed softly but didn't look away from Evan.
She hadn't expected someone like him to be hiding in plain sight. While her friends focused on his looks, Grace noticed something else—his composure. Calm. Self-assured. That kind of presence didn't come from looks alone.
Her eyes drifted briefly to his clothes. Italian designer brand.
She recognized it instantly. Her cousin loved that brand.
"Honestly," Anna whispered, comparing Evan to the other guys, "everyone else looks like kids next to him."
Grace didn't respond. She watched Evan take his seat, meaning to look away—only to realize he'd noticed her gaze.
Their eyes met.
Evan gave a brief nod and smiled. Not flashy. Not smug. Just clean and composed. If she had to describe it, the word upright came to mind.
Grace felt her heartbeat hitch—just slightly.
Evan settled into his seat. He could feel eyes on him, but he ignored most of them—until one gaze lingered longer than the rest.
He looked up again.
Grace.
Of course he knew who she was. From the first day, she'd been the kind of girl everyone noticed.Guys from other classes had shown up just to get a look at her.
Evan didn't think much of it and was about to look away — when he saw Grace nod and smile at him.
Um?
Evan just stood there, kind of stunned. Honestly, he didn't expect this at all.
School's been in session for almost a month, but he and the other person? They haven't even said hello. Supposed to be classmates, but really, it's like they're just random people passing by on the street.
And now—out of nowhere—the other person's nodding and smiling at him?
He blinked in surprise but managed to smile back, quick and polite, then looked away.
Grace sat down at her desk. She noticed Evan glance away, so she did the same, acting like nothing happened.
But if you paid attention, her pale earlobes had gone a little pink. Not just a normal blush either—there was something sort of electric about it.
"Grace, why are your ears red?" Anna spotted it right away and blurted it out before she could stop herself.
That caught the attention of their other two roommates, who both looked over, curious.
"Huh? They really are red. What's up with that?"
"Yeah, Grace, what's going on with your ears?"
Grace just smiled, brushing off their questions. "It's nothing," she said, and quickly switched the topic.
Her roommates didn't push it. They just started talking about something else.
As the conversation rolled on, Grace got quiet again. She couldn't help it—she turned her head for a quick glance at Evan.
Jack sat in the back row, practically buzzing with excitement.
"Dude, the class representative just looked at me—and she smiled! For real!" His voice was shaking, like he'd just won the lottery.
His cheeks had gone a little red, too.
Ryan just stared at him, totally unimpressed. "Come on. Why would the class representative look at you, let alone smile? Don't flatter yourself."
"Think about it. Since when does she ever smile at any of us?" Ryan pressed, not buying it.
"I swear, I'm not making this up. She nodded and smiled! You just missed it!" Jack was desperate for him to believe it, almost pleading now.
Ryan started to waver. Jack wasn't the type to brag or make up stories. They'd been roommates nearly a month, and he knew the guy's style.
So… did the class representative really smile at him?
"Of course it's true!" Jack practically bounced in his seat.
"Ryan, Evan, Nathan, do you think she likes me? Why else would she smile? She's always polite, but she never acts like that with the boys. She's nice to everyone, but it's always kind of formal, you know?"
"So—is this her showing interest? Maybe she likes me?" Jack nearly burst.
Ryan smirked, his sarcasm on full blast. "Wow, you lucky dog. Maybe she does. Seriously, I didn't think you had it in you."
He knew Grace, too. She was friendly enough, but there was always a bit of distance, like she was behind glass. And now she's smiling at Jack?
Heh. Yeah, right.
Jack didn't even argue. He just grinned and giggled to himself.
"If you two actually get together, you owe me a massive treat!" Ryan tried to sound tough, but he was grinning.
"No problem! If it works out, dinner's on me." Jack shot back, eyes sneaking over to Grace at the front.
From where he sat, he could only see her straight back. Even from behind, she looked pretty.
He snorted to himself, still giddy.
Just as he was about to look away, Grace actually turned and glanced back. Their eyes met—at least, Jack was sure they did.
He nodded at her and gave his best smile.
Up front, Grace frowned a little, her brows drawing together.
She'd meant to look for Evan, but… who was that guy staring at her? He looked dopey, grinning at her like an idiot. His name was… what was it, again? She couldn't remember.
Whatever. Didn't matter.
She shot another glance at Evan, then looked away.
"Grace, what are you looking at?" Anna asked, poking her head over.
"Nothing," Grace said, brushing it off, and then changed the topic. "What's for lunch?"
"Grilled chicken Caesar salad! I've been craving that."
"Alright, I'm in." Grace nodded, and then the bell rang.
The classroom buzzed with low conversation as students waited, some scrolling through their phones, others talking in small groups.
The door opened, and the professor walked in.
"Morning, everyone," she said, setting her bag down on the desk.
A few students looked up. Someone near the back replied, "Morning," while most simply quieted down.
She glanced at the room, then at her laptop.
"Alright, let's get started."
Chairs shifted as conversations died out. The professor—somewhere in her forties, dressed plainly, nothing about her particularly memorable—connected her laptop to the projector and pulled up the first slide.
"Today we'll be continuing from last week," she said, eyes scanning the class.
*****