Paper Hearts&Poisoned words

The campus library always smelled like rain-soaked paper and ambition. Even when the sun blazed outside, the air in here felt cool, heavy with whispered secrets between the shelves. Alina Pierce pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and glared at the stack of readings in front of her. Week two of the semester and I’m already drowning. Typical. She had a deadline in less than forty-eight hours and absolutely zero patience for the rustling, giggling trio sitting three tables away. She wasn’t here for friends. Or smiles. Or distractions. She was here to get her degree, secure her future, and maybe, if she had time, remember what it felt like to breathe. She scribbled another line in her notebook,messy handwriting, ink smudged where her hand brushed the page,and that’s when the shadow fell across her table. “Your pen’s dying,” a voice said. Smooth, low, threaded with something that made her skin prickle. She looked up. Dark hair that curled slightly at the ends, sharp jawline, eyes the color of black coffee,steady and assessing. He didn’t smile. Didn’t even bother to introduce himself. He just set a new pen on her notebook like it was nothing. Alina blinked. “Do I know you?” “Not yet,” he said, and walked away. The ridiculous thing was, he didn’t even look back. She stared at the pen for a long moment before tucking it into her pencil case, telling herself it meant absolutely nothing. She was wrong