CHAPTER FOUR-THE STUDY SESSION
534 Words
By Friday evening, the library felt like a second home.
Or maybe a second battlefield.
Because sitting across from Liam Hart for three straight hours while he pretended to study was pure torture.
He had that lazy smirk, one elbow propped on the table, spinning his pen like the rules of physics didn't apply to him.
Meanwhile, my notes looked like they'd gone through a storm.
"Focus," I said, tapping the page in front of him. "The answer is supply and demand, not demand and attention."
He grinned. "But I am in high demand. And your attention's right here."
"Rule number two," I warned, not looking up. "No flirting during study time."
He leaned closer, his voice dropping low enough to melt composure. "That's not flirting, Coffee Girl. That's confidence."
"Confidence doesn't help you pass economics."
"Neither does yelling at me, but here we are."
I threw my pen down and glared. "You're impossible."
"And yet," he said, flashing that infuriating smile, "you keep showing up."
⸻
After another hour, I gave up trying to teach him the law of diminishing returns. The only thing diminishing was my patience.
He leaned back in his chair, stretching, the hem of his T-shirt lifting just enough to distract me.
I looked away immediately, pretending to check my phone.
"Tell me something," he said.
"What?"
"Why do you hate me so much?"
I blinked. "I don't hate you."
"Sure you do. You look at me like I ran over your cat."
I sighed, finally meeting his gaze. "I just... don't like people who think the world revolves around them."
He studied me quietly for a moment. "And you think that's me?"
"I know that's you."
He smiled softly. "Then maybe you don't know me at all."
⸻
The library lights flickered once—the ten-minute warning before closing.
I started packing my things, avoiding his eyes.
As I reached for my notes, his hand brushed mine. Just a quick, accidental touch.
But it sent a tiny shock through me, like static and heat all at once.
I froze.
He noticed. Of course he did.
His voice was quiet now. "Rule one says no real kisses, right?"
I nodded slowly.
"What about fake ones?"
I swallowed hard. "That depends."
"On what?"
"On whether they're for the public... or just you."
He smirked—softer this time, almost shy. "Maybe both."
Before I could answer, the librarian's voice broke the tension.
"Time's up! Closing in five minutes."
We both laughed nervously, gathering our books.
As we walked out, he nudged my shoulder.
"You're a good teacher," he said. "Even if I'm your worst student."
"You said it, not me."
He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Same time tomorrow?"
I hesitated. "Liam..."
"Come on, Coffee Girl. I'm this close to understanding microeconomics."
He held his thumb and finger a millimeter apart, and I couldn't help laughing.
"Fine," I said. "Tomorrow."
"Deal," he said—and just before walking away, he added, "Rule seven: Don't fall for the student."
I rolled my eyes. "Not a problem."
But as I watched him disappear down the hallway, the corner of my mouth betrayed me—and the tiniest smile slipped out.
- Writer
