DRAWN TO LOVE

Chapter 21-22

Tami POV

Professor Samson announced a group assignment to us, I had no choiceand before I could protest or hide, I was assigned to a study group that included Oliver. My stomach twisted. Weeks of careful avoidance had prepared me for nearly everything—but not this.

I arrived at the library early, hoping to find a quiet corner where I could at least minimize contact. My heart sank when I spotted him already seated at a table, books neatly stacked, a calm smile that made my chest tighten.

“Hi,” he said lightly, as if the universe had never punished him for what he did to me in grade school.

I forced my gaze to my notes. “Hey,” I muttered, keeping my voice clipped.

The group trickled in. Brittney, of course, had joined too, radiant as ever, but she mostly camped near her usual friends. Oliver, however, had taken the seat closest to mine. Close enough that the edge of his elbow brushed mine when we reached for the same pen.

I froze. My mind scrambled. Don’t look at him. Don’t make eye contact. Act normal.

“Don’t worry,” he said softly, leaning back just slightly, careful not to crowd me. “I won’t distract you. I just… want to work together.”

I clenched my jaw, nodding. Words failed me, though a tiny part of me wondered if he genuinely meant it. His presence was disarming, but I had no intention of letting him see how much it affected me.

We worked in silence at first, exchanging only the necessary notes for the assignment. Every so often, he would glance my way, offering a small, polite smile that made my stomach lurch. I kept my eyes on the textbook, scribbling notes frantically, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tremor in my hands.

“Do you want to go over this section together?” he asked quietly, pointing at a problem on the board.

I hesitated. My instincts screamed no, but the assignment required collaboration. Finally, I whispered, “Okay… just this one.”

As we leaned over the paper, our elbows brushing occasionally, I felt an odd mix of tension and familiarity. He didn’t tease, didn’t smirk like he used to. He was calm, considerate, and patient. And yet, every brush of his hand, every glance, made my heart pound as if I were back in grade six, caught off guard by the boy who once tormented me.

Halfway through, Brittney leaned over, laughing at a joke from one of her friends across the table. Oliver’s attention flicked briefly toward her, polite, but then returned to the problem in front of us. My chest loosened slightly. He wasn’t performing for her. Not now.

“I… I didn’t realize this part could be tricky,” I admitted quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, pointing out the steps slowly, guiding me without overshadowing me. “I’ve got your back,” he said softly. “We’ll figure it out together.”

I swallowed hard. Weeks of avoidance, all the walls I’d built—they were crumbling, brick by brick. And for the first time, I realized that maybe, just maybe, Oliver wasn’t the boy I remembered. He was someone else now. Someone who might be worth risking the fear of the past to understand.

And yet, I couldn’t shake the caution buried deep in my chest. Trust didn’t come easy. Not with him. Not after everything.

But sitting there, side by side, solving the problem together, I felt something shift—something I hadn’t expected at all.

__________

The study session ended faster than I expected. My mind was a whirlwind of numbers, scribbles, and the impossible tension of sitting next to Oliver for nearly an hour without losing control.

As the group packed up, Oliver stayed seated, waiting until the room emptied. He glanced at me with a small, almost hesitant smile.

“Hey… you did really well,” he said quietly. “Better than I expected.”

I froze, my bag halfway onto my shoulder. “Thanks,” I muttered, trying to keep my voice steady.

“I know… this might feel weird,” he continued, leaning back slightly in his chair, careful not to crowd me. “You’ve probably been avoiding me all these weeks. I get it. I don’t blame you. Honestly, I’d do the same.”

My chest tightened. Weeks? I wanted to say a million things—I don’t trust you, you hurt me, I hate that I even notice you—but none of them came out.

“I’m… I just wanted to say thanks for working with me,” he added. “I know it’s not easy.”

I nodded, fiddling with the strap of my bag. Words felt heavy, and the air between us seemed charged with every unspoken memory.

Then, unexpectedly, he said, “If… if you ever want to study together again—just the two of us—I won’t pressure you. But I’d like to try. Slowly.”

My heart skipped. Slowly. The word carried weight, like he understood boundaries I hadn’t even said aloud.

“I…” I started, then stopped. Could I really do that? Could I trust him not to hurt me again? Weeks of avoidance and panic suddenly collided with the quiet, steady patience he now radiated.

He seemed to sense my hesitation, giving me a soft, understanding look. “Take your time,” he said. “No rush. I’ll wait.”

I swallowed hard, finally nodding. “Okay… maybe.”

He smiled—small, genuine, patient. “Maybe is a start.”

For the first time in weeks, I felt something shift inside me. Not trust. Not forgiveness. Not even certainty. But… a crack in the wall I’d built, just enough to let him in a little.

As I stepped out of the library, the late afternoon sun warming my back, I realized that this slow, careful dance between us had just begun. And for the first time, I wondered if maybe… it could lead somewhere I didn’t expect.