Chapter 2
897 Words
Harvard Library Courtyard – Late Afternoon
POV: James Takumi Saito
He was supposed to be headed to his business law study group.
Instead, he was standing in the shadow of a brick archway, squinting across the courtyard like an i***t. Because there she was. Bianca Lawson. Curled up on a bench just outside the library, hoodie too big, glasses slightly crooked, and her hair—
Untamed. Beautiful. Wild coils that refused to be subdued, haloed by the low amber sun. She was scribbling in her notebook, one earbud in, completely oblivious to how devastatingly cute she looked.
James blinked.
Twice.
Because this version of her—off-guard, focused, not ironed into formality—hit harder than any debutante or heiress his mother ever paraded in front of him.
He wasn’t even sure what made his feet move, but suddenly, he was crossing the space between them, notebook under one arm, excuses building in his head just in case this went sideways.
She didn’t notice him until he was two feet away.
BIANCA (looking up, startled)
“Damn. You walk like a ninja.”
James smiled, hands up in mock surrender.
JAMES
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I, uh… saw you from over there and—wow, this is already creepy.”
She raised an eyebrow, amused but guarded.
BIANCA
“You stalking me, Harvard Ken?”
He chuckled. She had teeth. He liked that.
JAMES
“Not stalking. More like… casually noticing. And also wondering if you want to go over the lecture notes together sometime. Study partners.”
BIANCA
“Study partners.” (She looked at him like she didn’t buy it. Not completely.)
“Why me? You sit up front like you already know the answers.”
JAMES
“I learn better when I talk it out with someone smart.”
A beat. She leaned back, studying him properly now. Not the polished heir with perfect hair. Just the guy standing in front of her, trying to play it cool while fighting the urge to reach up and tuck a rogue curl behind her ear.
BIANCA (finally)
“Alright, Mr. Saito. Study partners. But I don’t babysit, and I don’t flirt during flashcards.”
JAMES (grinning)
“Noted. No flirting. Strictly academic.”
BIANCA
“Mm-hmm.” (She turned back to her notebook but smirked.)
“And stop looking at my hair like it’s a magic trick.”
JAMES
“I wasn’t—okay, maybe I was.”
She laughed. Not loudly, just a soft sound that sank right into his chest.
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First Study Session – Harvard Dorm Commons Lounge
POV: Bianca Lawson
The commons smelled faintly like coffee, overworked brain cells, and whatever candle someone illegally lit in the corner. Bianca sat cross-legged on the couch, books stacked high beside her, a pen twirling between her fingers.
She didn’t look up when James arrived—but she knew it was him by the cologne. Subtle. Expensive. Like cedarwood and intention.
He set his laptop down, pulling up the PowerPoint slides. Bianca watched him out of the corner of her eye. Tailored coat. Clean lines. But the way his brow furrowed as he opened his notes? That was real. She liked that.
BIANCA
“If you say ‘memory is stored in the hippocampus’ one more time, I might stab you with this pen.”
JAMES (smirking)
“You wound me. I was going to say consolidated in the hippocampus. Total upgrade.”
She snorted and tossed him a highlighter.
An hour passed in productive silence and sarcastic commentary. They took turns quizzing each other, and to her surprise, he wasn’t just coasting on a trust fund brain—he worked hard. He challenged her. Didn’t flinch when she disagreed, didn’t try to one-up her.
He was… comfortable. Dangerous.
JAMES
“Okay. Flashcard time. No flirting, remember?”
BIANCA (deadpan)
“You’re the one with puppy eyes.”
JAMES
“They’re not puppy. They’re... strategic.”
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James's pov
Bianca was laughing. Genuinely laughing, and it lit her up like the sun cracking through stained glass. She was sitting sideways on the couch now, legs tucked under her, hoodie slipping off one shoulder.
James tried to focus on the flashcard in his hand.
He really did.
JAMES (reading)
“‘The misinformation effect is…’”
He trailed off. She was leaning forward now, her curls casting shadows across her cheek. She looked up at him—eyes warm, curious.
BIANCA
“What? Cat got your tongue?”
JAMES (quietly)
“You look different when you’re not pretending to be untouchable.”
The moment hung between them. Her expression faltered, just for a second, then settled into something unreadable.
BIANCA
“And you look less fake when you’re not trying to impress a room.”
Oof. Fair.
James dropped the card on the stack and leaned back, suddenly aware of how close they were.
JAMES
“I wasn’t lying about wanting to study.”
BIANCA
“I know.”
JAMES
“But I also wasn’t lying when I said your hair’s magic.”
She rolled her eyes, but she didn’t move away.
BIANCA
“You flirting now?”
JAMES
“I’m failing not to.”
Their eyes met. Tension cracked like static in the air.
She didn’t lean in.
Neither did he.
But something shifted. And it wasn’t academic anymore.
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- Writer
