Eleanor realized very quickly that tutoring Xander Everhart didn't stay inside Study Room B.
It followed her.
By morning, whispers had found their way into the lecture hall. Not loud enough to confront, just soft enough to notice. She took her usual seat near the middle row, notebook open, pen ready, eyes forward.
Someone behind her leaned close to a friend.
"That's her."
"The tutor?"
"Yeah."
Eleanor didn't turn.
She had learned early in life that attention fed on reaction. If she gave them nothing, most people eventually got bored.
The lecturer arrived late, flustered, and the room settled. Eleanor focused on the board, jotting down notes, listening carefully. She enjoyed classes like this—structured, predictable, safe.
Halfway through the lecture, the door opened.
Xander walked in without urgency.
Not rushed. Not apologetic. Just present.
He slid into a seat two rows behind Eleanor, long legs stretching out comfortably. A few heads turned. A few girls smiled openly. Someone whispered his name like it carried weight.
Eleanor felt it—not his presence, but the shift around it.
He didn't look at her.
Which was intentional.
After class, the hallway exploded with movement. Students spilled out in clusters, conversations overlapping. Eleanor packed her bag calmly, waiting for the rush to thin before standing.
She stepped into the corridor and nearly collided with Amara.
"Sorry—" Amara stopped, eyes widening. "Oh. It's you."
"Yes," Eleanor said. "Still me."
Amara laughed. "You've become a topic."
"I figured."
They walked together toward the stairs. "You're tutoring Xander Everhart," Amara said, not asking.
"Yes."
"You're brave."
"I'm paid," Eleanor replied.
"That's worse."
In the cafeteria, Eleanor noticed it again, the subtle rearranging of space. People glanced at her longer than necessary. A group of girls near the elite tables whispered openly now, not bothering to hide it.
"She thinks she's special."
"He won't take her seriously."
"She won't last."
Eleanor sat with Amara anyway, ate quietly, listened more than she spoke.
Across the room, Xander sat with his teammates.
"You actually showed up to class," one of them said, disbelief obvious.
Xander shrugged. "It happens."
"Since when do you sit through lectures?"
"Since I decided not to get kicked off the team."
Another player leaned forward. "Is the tutor really that serious?"
Xander took a drink. "She doesn't waste time."
"That bad, huh?"
"That good."
The table went quiet for a beat.
"Careful," someone muttered. "You sound impressed."
Xander didn't respond.
That evening, the hostel buzzed with energy.
Music played somewhere down the hall. Doors opened and closed constantly. Laughter echoed. Eleanor sat on her bed, reviewing notes, trying to tune it all out.
Her roommate wasn't back yet.
A knock sounded.
Eleanor frowned, stood, and opened the door slightly.
Two girls stood there, both well-dressed, confident, the kind of confidence that came from knowing they belonged.
"Eleanor Whitmore?" one asked.
"Yes."
"We're from the departmental association."
The lie sat too neatly.
"We just wanted to say," the other continued smoothly, "be careful with Everhart. People misunderstand situations."
Eleanor studied them calmly. "What situation?"
The first girl smiled thinly. "Tutoring often turns… complicated."
"I'm capable of managing my schedule," Eleanor said.
Their smiles faded slightly.
"Just advice," one said.
"I didn't ask for it."
The silence sharpened.
They left without another word.
Eleanor closed the door and leaned against it briefly, exhaling through her nose. She returned to her desk, picked up her pen, and continued studying.
At four p.m., Study Room B was already occupied.
Xander sat waiting.
"You're early," Eleanor said, entering.
"So are you."
They sat.
Today's session was harder.
He struggled more openly, frustration showing. She pushed anyway. When he snapped, she didn't retreat. When he went quiet, she waited.
At one point, he slammed his pen down lightly.
"You don't go easy on me."
"Why would I?"
"Everyone else does."
She looked at him steadily. "That's why this matters."
He leaned back, breathing out slowly. "You're going to make enemies."
"I already have," Eleanor replied.
He paused. "Because of me?"
"Because I don't step aside."
He nodded once, thoughtful.
They worked until time ran out.
Outside, dusk settled over campus. Students gathered on the lawns. Someone laughed loudly. Music drifted through open windows.
Xander walked beside Eleanor toward the main path.
"You don't owe me this," he said.
"I know."
"Then why do it?"
She stopped walking. "Because I don't quit things just because they're inconvenient."
He watched her for a moment, then nodded.
They separated at the junction without another word.
Eleanor headed toward the hostel.
Xander toward the field.
Campus life carried on around them.