Eleanor woke up to the sound of her roommate humming off-key.
She lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling of the hostel room, listening to the distant noise of campus waking up, doors slamming, laughter echoing down hallways, someone arguing on the phone outside. Westbrook Public University didn't sleep quietly. It announced itself.
"You're awake, right?" the girl on the other bed asked.
Eleanor turned her head. "I am now."
The girl grinned, tying her hair into a messy ponytail. "Good. I'm Lila. English Department. Second year. And before you ask, yes, people are already talking about you."
Eleanor pushed herself up slowly. "That was fast."
"This campus runs on gossip faster than coffee," Lila said cheerfully. "Transfer students always attract attention. Transfer students who sit through their first lecture like they own the place? Even more."
"I wasn't trying to," Eleanor said.
"I know. That's what makes it worse."
They walked together toward the lecture halls, the morning sun warming the concrete paths. Groups of students passed them, some in designer clothes, others in worn jeans and hoodies. The difference was obvious. Money lived loudly on this campus.
As they entered the English Department building, Eleanor felt it again, that subtle shift in attention. Eyes flicked toward her. Conversations dipped, then resumed in whispers.
"That one," someone muttered.
"That's her."
Eleanor pretended not to notice, but Lila noticed everything.
"You'll get used to it," she said quietly.
"Especially once you're officially… connected."
"Connected to what?"
Lila gave her a sideways look. "To him."
Eleanor didn't need clarification.
The department lounge was already crowded. Students lounged on sofas, laptops open, coffee cups everywhere. A group laughed loudly near the windows. Another argued about a novel Eleanor had already read twice.
Lila pulled her along. "Come meet the sane ones first."
She stopped in front of a tall boy with glasses and a sarcastic expression. "This is Tariq. He lives here. I think he's part of the furniture now."
"I resent that," Tariq said without looking up from his screen. Then he glanced at Eleanor. "So you're the transfer."
"I am," Eleanor replied.
He studied her for a moment, then smirked. "You look calm. That'll change."
"Encouraging," she said dryly.
"I try."
Across the room, someone cleared his throat deliberately.
Camden.
He leaned against a table like the building belonged to him, expensive watch, polished shoes, that confident ease of someone who had never been told no. His gaze locked onto Eleanor with open interest.
"So the rumors were true," he said. "Welcome to English. Hope you don't crack under pressure."
Eleanor met his stare evenly. "I don't usually."
Camden's smile sharpened. "We'll see."
Lila exhaled slowly. "And that," she murmured as they walked away, "is a problem you didn't ask for."
The tension shifted before Eleanor could respond.
She felt it before she saw him.
Xander Blackwood entered the lounge like he had nowhere else to be, and nowhere else needed him. His football jacket was slung over one shoulder, helmet dangling from his fingers. Conversation dipped. Eyes followed.
He spotted Eleanor almost instantly.
This time, he didn't look away.
He crossed the room, stopping far too close. "You're popular already."
Eleanor lifted her chin. "So I've noticed."
"Camden bothering you?" he asked casually.
"I can handle myself."
His mouth curved. "I believe you."
For a second, neither of them moved. The air felt tighter, charged. Tariq watched openly. Lila pretended not to stare.
Xander leaned in slightly. "Library. After last lecture. Don't be late."
Eleanor frowned. "You're the one who needs help."
"And yet," he said softly, "you're the one agreeing."
He walked away before she could reply.
Lila's jaw dropped. "Did that just happen?"
Eleanor exhaled. "Unfortunately."
By lunchtime, the whispers had multiplied.
They followed her into the cafeteria, hovered around her table, clung to her like static.
Eleanor ate slowly, pretending she didn't hear her name every few seconds.
"That's her."
"She's tutoring him?"
"No way."
Xander appeared halfway through her meal, dropping into the seat beside her without asking. His knee brushed hers under the table.
He didn't move it.
Camden watched from across the room, his smile thin.
"You're quiet today," Xander murmured.
"I'm thinking," Eleanor replied.
"Dangerous habit."
She glanced at him. "For you."
He laughed under his breath.