Noah watched Evelyn's back until she disappeared down the path, then turned around to find all three of his roommates staring straight at him. It made him pause. "What? Why are you all looking at me like that?"
"Nate…" Caleb hesitated for half a second before blurting it out anyway. "Do you like Professor Miller?"
A faint flush crept across Noah's face, barely there. He scratched the back of his head, the question hitting too close, the answer inside him too real to just shrug off with a laugh.
"How… how did you guys even pick up on that?"
"Just a feeling. Don't worry about it—we're probably wrong."
"Stop guessing. She's… she's my sister."
All three of them gave him the same skeptical once-over, eyes sliding across his face like they were waiting for the crack to show. Noah felt his scalp prickle.
"Alright, alright, break time's over. Back to work." He cut the conversation off fast, the guilt sharp in his chest. His roommates traded quick glances but let it drop, brushing dirt off their jeans and standing up without pushing further.
If they kept digging, he wasn't sure he could keep the mask on. Miles and Ryan were easy enough to throw off, but Caleb… Caleb was too sharp, too good at reading people.
The truth was, he didn't even need to hide it. Liking Evelyn felt like the most natural thing in the world—logical, almost inevitable. Maybe it was the ten-plus years of her care, the way "sister" had carved itself so deep into him that anything else felt like trying to rewrite gravity.
He finished the last swallow of milk from his bottle and glanced around, suddenly aware of an absence.
"Nate, what're you looking for?" Ryan asked.
"That water bottle Nora gave me. You guys see it anywhere?"
They all scanned the ground, then looked at each other and shrugged. "Nope. Didn't you grab it yourself?"
"Weird."
He was sure he'd set it right beside him. Now it was just… gone. Still, it wasn't worth hunting for. Not important. They picked up the brooms and dustpans again and got back to it.
The sidewalk was buried under a solid carpet of yellow leaves stretching a good fifteen, twenty yards—exhausting just to look at. Lucky for them it was the weekend; the street stayed mostly empty, no one to dodge while they worked.
Noah had been doing chores forever; sweeping came easy. His roommates, though, were already huffing, backs bent, faces red.
The trash cans along the curb were overflowing by the time they finished. They dumped the last piles of leaves on top, burying a half-drunk bottle of mineral water someone had tossed earlier.
The three of them staggered straight back to the dorm and collapsed. Noah, body heavy and aching, still dragged himself across campus toward the faculty housing like he'd promised.
He knocked on the door. A soft "Come in" answered.
The moment he stepped inside he froze.
Evelyn stood there in nothing but her bra and panties—pale, flawless skin catching the dim light, the black fabric stark against it. The contrast hit him like a physical thing, dragging pure, unfiltered embarrassment up his throat.
He spun around so fast his neck cracked, heat flooding from his collarbone straight to his ears. "Sis—what the hell? Why aren't you dressed?!"
"I was changing. This strap is being difficult." Her voice stayed perfectly even, unbothered.
"Then don't let me in!"
"Anyway, you've seen me like this plenty of times when we were little. We used to take baths together, remember?"
"That's not the same!"
"Isn't it?" She stepped up behind him, arms sliding around his neck, her mouth close to his ear. Her voice dropped, low and syrup-smooth, sinking straight into his bones. "Now that you've seen everything again, does that mean you have to marry me?"
"Sis… isn't that… kind of soon?"
She laughed softly against his skin. "Relax. Just teasing. I said I wouldn't push you." Her arms loosened. "You can turn around now. I'm decent."
Noah exhaled and faced her again.
She'd slipped into a white button-down, the fabric pulling tight across her chest, tracing every curve. She sat back at the desk, reached over, and tugged the curtains open. Afternoon light poured in, softening the room's earlier shadows. The place was warm; the thin shirt didn't look like it bothered her at all.
"Lie down for a bit," she said. "I just need to finish this lecture slide."
"Okay…"
Noah dropped onto her bed. His back, his legs—everything hurt in that dull, satisfying way. He rolled onto his side and watched her from behind, the graceful line of her shoulders, the way her hair fell.
Back when he was first hitting puberty she was already blooming into the kind of beauty that made people stare. Outside the house she always dressed conservatively, but at home she never bothered hiding from him. He'd seen every inch of her—every perfect line—without even meaning to.
Those images followed him into dreams. Innocent at first, then not. He'd wake up flushed and guilty, barely able to look at her the next morning, convinced he'd done something unforgivable.
And the evidence left in his boxers afterward—he'd wash them in secret, hang them on the drying rack alone like a confession. Until one day she caught him at it. Looking back, it was almost funny: his entire sex-ed crash course delivered by the girl only five years older than him.
He still remembered how stern she'd gotten, laying down rules—no touching other girls, no letting them get close—while she herself never once pulled away from him.
"Nate." Her voice pulled him back. "Are you close with that girl?"
"Girl? Who?"
"The one who brought you the water. I saw her. She's the same one you went out with that night, right?"
"Oh…" He scratched his head again, awkward. "Yeah, that's Nora. From my class. You don't remember her?"
"Nora… I remember the name. Didn't really look at her face. You two close?"
"Not really. Just… regular friends, I guess."
The second the words left his mouth, the keyboard stopped.
The room went unnaturally still.
Noah's stomach tightened. He swallowed. "Sis… you don't like her?"
"I don't dislike her." She didn't turn around. "What about you? What do you think of her?"
"Me? She's nice. She's helped me out a few times. Pretty, too. That's… about it."
"Come here." Her tone shifted, quiet but firm. "Sit next to me."
"What's wrong?" He got up anyway, dragged the spare chair over, and sat.
She finally looked at him. "Her or me. Who's prettier?"
"You already heard me say it. Obviously you."
Her hands shot out and caught his cheeks, fingers digging in just enough to pull his face sideways—the same punishment she'd used since they were kids whenever he said something she didn't like.
"Then don't say any other girl is pretty in front of me. Got it?"
"I literally just said you're prettier—"
"Still no. I don't want to hear it."
"Okay, okay. I won't say it again."
He nodded hard. Only then did she let go, satisfied.
"And?" She tilted her head. "Tell me. What part of me is the prettiest?"
He blinked. The question caught him off guard. Evelyn was the kind of beautiful where every single piece fit perfectly—no flaws, no weak points. "Everything. Every single part. To me you're just… the most beautiful."
She smiled, small and pleased. "That's better."
—
"So that's the final answer to the integral?"
"Isn't it? I checked it twice. What did I miss?"
Evelyn let out a quiet breath that sounded halfway between amused and exasperated, then reached over, wrapped her fingers lightly around Noah's hand, and guided the pen back to the end of the equation, adding a neat little "+ C" at the tail of the result.
When she finished, she tapped the side of his head with the pen. "Careless again. Everything I taught you just vanished?"
"I totally forgot," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. "Didn't even think about it."
Sloppiness had followed him since he was a kid. Half-finished strokes, skipped steps, little details left behind. He had paid for it more than once growing up. If not for Evelyn's relentless patience—making him redo assignments, forcing him to check every line before turning it in—he never would have built the habit of reviewing his work.
But after the entrance exams, once the pressure eased and she loosened her grip on his academics, an entire summer of chaos had undone most of that discipline. He had slid right back into old patterns.
"There's a higher-level calculus competition next week," Evelyn said casually. "I was thinking of signing you up."
"Do I have to?" He looked at her the way he used to when he wanted mercy.
"Just try it. Winning doesn't matter. Think of it as helping your sister out."
He sighed. "Fine. I'll go."
"Good." She ruffled his hair once, satisfied. "Finish the rest yourself. I need to use the bathroom."
After she left, Noah completed the final problem, snapped a photo of the page, uploaded it to the school platform, and saved a copy to his phone out of habit. His roommates had a talent for appearing at the worst moments asking for answers.
Outside, the sun was sinking. The golden light had slid off the textbook and onto the windowsill, warming the pale curtains that filtered the evening glow. He liked this room. The desk faced the window. During the day, the sky stretched wide and blue beyond it. At night, stars or city lights filled the glass. Sitting there always made him think too much—about small things, about everything, about past mistakes and futures that felt both near and impossibly far.
Lately, the calm felt fragile. Almost staged. Like something sharp was waiting somewhere just outside his field of vision, ready to tear through everything he held steady.
He opened the desk drawers absently. Tape, scissors, pens in the left. Certificates and a few sketch pencils on the right. Beneath the certificates was a loose-leaf notebook with Evelyn's name written neatly across the cover.
Curiosity nudged him. He pulled it out and was just about to flip it open when a hand swept in and snatched it away.
"Don't touch my notebook," Evelyn said, clutching it to her chest with a small, almost feline defensiveness that surprised him.
"I wasn't even going to read it."
"If you had," she said lightly, sliding it back into the drawer, "you'd already be getting hit."
She shut the drawer firmly. "At least for now, don't look. Understood?"
"Got it. I won't."
"Make sure you remember that." She gathered the scattered pens and scratch paper on the desk, then patted his shoulder. "Put your jacket on. I'm taking you out to dinner."
By the time they stepped outside, the sky had exploded into red and orange streaks, clouds lit like embers burning out over the city. The air carried a mix of traffic fumes, cooking oil, and cigarette smoke.
Noah rarely ate out with her. Evelyn cooked well. There was usually no need.
He asked why, but she didn't answer until they reached the school gate, where a sleek luxury car waited. He recognized it vaguely.
It belonged to Grace.
Evelyn took the passenger seat. Noah climbed into the back. Once the doors shut, Evelyn explained, "It's Grace's father's birthday tonight. That should tell you enough."
"So we're having a real feast?" Noah brightened.
Grace laughed from the driver's seat. "You'll be satisfied, I promise. Though I'm about to endure another lecture from my father."
"Still about marriage?" Evelyn asked.
"Of course. He's been pushing for years. Can't wait to see me married off."
"Then find someone," Evelyn said lightly. "You're not exactly short on options."
Grace sighed. "If it were that easy. The kind of man I'd actually be interested in isn't exactly common."
"What kind do you like?" Noah asked before he could stop himself.
Grace glanced at him through the rearview mirror, smiling. "Someone like you. Want to skip a few decades and marry into money?"
Noah froze for half a second. He was already terrible at handling Evelyn's teasing. Being cornered like that in front of her made his brain stall entirely.
Grace caught Evelyn's calm, unreadable look from the corner of her eye and laughed it off. "Relax, I'm kidding. You're not taking any shortcuts through me."
She liked teasing him. Outside of work, she rarely interacted with men she could speak to this casually. Noah was easy to like. Good-looking, open, unguarded in a way that felt refreshing.
Unfortunately, that kind of boy didn't belong to her.
She changed the subject. "I was even thinking of asking him to pretend to be my boyfriend tonight. But I guess that's not happening."
"Why not just hire someone?" Evelyn asked coolly.
"A hired actor is still acting. What's the fun in that? You're lucky," Grace added. "No one's pressuring you to get married."
Evelyn smiled faintly. "Not entirely. My little idiot still doesn't always behave."
She glanced back at Noah with pointed meaning. He turned toward the window, pretending to study the passing streets, though the heat creeping up his cheeks betrayed him.
He and Lila had both been passive, slow, careful. A year together and neither had been particularly bold. Evelyn, on the other hand, was direct, unapologetic, sometimes overwhelming. A single suggestive comment from her could send him into chaos.
"Oh, right," Grace said theatrically, "he still has to buy a house, buy a car, get married. That's a lot of money, isn't it?"
"No need to worry about that," Evelyn replied evenly. "The house and car—I've already set money aside. As for the last item, it won't be necessary."
"Hey," Noah protested softly, "you don't have to save for me. I'm not that useless."
"Don't worry about it. Just focus on your studies until graduation. Leave the rest to me."
The car finally pulled up in front of an opulent hotel in the city center, its entrance gleaming under chandeliers and gold-trimmed glass. Grace stepped out first and led them inside, the doors parting into a hall drenched in light and polished luxury.