The study room smelled of dry erase markers and quiet ambition.
Rina claimed the seat farthest from the door, spreading her notes with deliberate precision. Laptop open. Sketchbook closed. She told herself this was about productivity, not proximity.
Jace closed the door behind them.
The click landed too loud.
“Library was full,” he said unnecessarily. “This one’s usually empty.”
“Good,” she replied without looking up. “Less distractions.”
He paused. Then smiled, like he knew she was lying.
The room was narrow, built for collaboration, not distance. One table. Two chairs. A whiteboard still carrying faint ghosts of equations. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, steady and unforgiving.
Jace dropped into the chair across from her. Too close. His knee nearly brushed hers.
She shifted
