The library was a quiet sanctuary in a world crackling with tension. The overhead lights cast pale pools on the polished wood tables, and the faint rustle of pages, the occasional tap of a pencil, punctuated the hush. Lottie sat curled into a corner seat, a loose braid falling over one shoulder, her fingers absently toying with the edge of a page. Notes were spread before her in neat, disciplined rows—highlighter marks, scribbled formulas, tiny diagrams drawn with ruthless precision.
The scent of old books, faintly dusty, mixed with the sharper edge of coffee drifting over from where Leo sprawled across the table. His feet were kicked up on a spare chair, one hand loosely holding a pen he twirled between his fingers, the other wrapped around a paper cup, the cardboard sleeve crumpled where his thumb idly rubbed it.
"Your brain's terrifying, Hayes," he murmured, voice soft but threaded with that familiar teasing lilt. His green eyes sparkled as they flicked over her meticulously organized notes, the corners crinkling with a grin she'd come to read like a weather signal. "Tell me again how you're not a perfectionist?"
Lottie glanced up, the corners of her mouth curving in a wry smile. "I'm not a perfectionist," she said quietly, voice laced with dry amusement. "I'm… thorough."
Leo let out a low laugh, his shoulders shaking slightly, the sound curling into the warm hush between them. "Sure, sure. And I'm a model student."
She raised an eyebrow, a glint of challenge lighting her gaze. "You're passing calculus because of me."
"That," Leo shot back, leaning forward so his elbow brushed the table, "is entirely beside the point." His grin softened as his eyes searched her face, catching the faint smudge of pencil near her temple, the slight crease between her brows. "You know you're allowed to breathe, right? You've been locked in spreadsheet mode for hours."
For a moment, Lottie let the quiet settle between them, the warmth of his presence a subtle anchor against the mounting storm of deadlines and expectations. She exhaled slowly, fingers smoothing a crease in the margin of her notebook. "Breathing can wait until after midterms."
Leo's hand shot out, stealing the highlighter from her grip with a sharp flick of his fingers. "Wrong answer."
"Leo," she warned, her voice a velvet blade, but there was a flicker of amusement behind her narrowed eyes.
He leaned in, elbows resting on the table, voice low. "You can't tell me you're not at least a little entertained watching Evelyn unravel."
That earned a quiet, almost reluctant laugh from Lottie, the sound slipping free like a sigh, soft as if she hadn't meant to let it out. "She's… unraveling with flair."
Across the library, in the shadowed gap between bookshelves, Evelyn's silhouette flickered into view. She stood half-shielded by the shelves, arms crossed tightly over her chest, eyes sharp and unblinking as they locked on the two at the table. Even at a distance, the tension rolled off her like heat waves—shoulders too stiff, fingers twitching faintly at her sleeves, the smooth mask of her face cracking at the corners.
Lottie felt the prickle of that gaze on the back of her neck, a quiet pulse of awareness that made her spine straighten almost imperceptibly, the weight of the moment settling like a stone in her chest. She reached for her pen, deliberately slow, fingers brushing the paper with a kind of gentle precision that masked the alertness coiling beneath her skin.
Leo noticed too. His smirk tilted sharp as a blade as he leaned closer, dropping his voice to a whisper just for Lottie. "She's watching. Don't give her the satisfaction."
Lottie's mouth curved in a whisper of a smile, eyes still fixed on the page. "Didn't plan to."
For the next hour, they traded notes and strategies, the give-and-take between them an easy rhythm of murmured questions, soft laughter, and the occasional brush of fingers as they reached for the same paper. Lottie challenged Leo on trick questions, her eyes lighting with quiet satisfaction when he fumbled and groaned dramatically. Leo retaliated with relentless teasing, poking at her perfectionism until she cracked into rare, genuine smiles.
At one point, Leo stretched, arms lifting above his head with a lazy grunt, shirt riding up slightly to reveal a strip of pale skin and the faint glint of a chain at his neck. Lottie's eyes flickered up involuntarily, and when she caught herself, a flush warmed her cheeks, her gaze snapping back to the paper. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear a little too quickly, fingers brushing her cheek as if to swipe away the heat. Leo's smirk deepened, but, to her relief, he said nothing.
Amy passed by once, clutching a stack of textbooks to her chest, eyes darting between Lottie and Evelyn like a trapped bird. Her steps slowed near their table, hesitation flickering across her face, but Evelyn's voice—sharp as a whip—cracked through the hush, calling her back. Amy flinched, nearly dropping her books, and hurried away, cheeks flushing as she disappeared into the shadows, her shoulders hunched in on themselves.
Lottie's fingers stilled on the page, a tightness flickering briefly at the edge of her eyes, the knot of something sharp and familiar tightening in her throat. She didn't look up. Instead, she turned another page, pen tapping once against the margin before she bent back to work.
Leo watched her closely, his grin slipping into something softer, quieter. "She's breaking, you know," he murmured, voice pitched low, barely stirring the air between them. "It's not just you who sees it."
Lottie let out a slow breath, her thumb brushing absently along the spine of her book. "I can't rely on that."
"No," Leo agreed softly, his gaze warm and steady. "But you're not in this alone either."
For a heartbeat, Lottie let herself feel it—the quiet comfort of someone in her corner, the rare weight of trust that didn't demand anything in return. It softened something tight in her chest, left her feeling unsteady in a way that had nothing to do with exams.
The hour slipped by, the world shrinking to the circle of light cast over their table, the quiet scratch of pens and the rustle of notes. Outside, snow began to fall, thin flakes whispering against the windows, the moon casting a pale wash over the courtyard. Midnight crept close, the air growing colder as the library emptied around them. Chairs scraped softly, books snapped shut, footsteps echoed in the quiet as the last stragglers trickled out.
Leo slouched back with a stretch, arms flung wide over the chair as he let out a long, theatrical groan. "All right, genius. Even my brain's surrendering."
Lottie hid a smile behind her hand, her lashes lowering as she gathered her notes. "Admitting defeat?"
"Strategic retreat," he corrected with a grin, wagging a finger. "There's a difference."
As they packed up, Lottie caught the glint of a phone screen out of the corner of her eye—Evelyn, half-hidden, typing furiously, her mouth pressed into a thin, brittle line, eyes flicking up to glare across the room. The air thickened, the faintest whisper of adrenaline curling in Lottie's stomach.
Leo followed her gaze, his smile fading into something sharper, eyes narrowing with quiet alertness. He leaned in, voice pitched low, brushing the edge of her ear. "She's planning something."
"I know." Lottie's fingers closed around the strap of her bag, pulse steady, eyes calm. But inside, the quiet spark of anticipation flared to life, sharp and clear.
They made their way to the door in silence, the sound of their footsteps soft against the wood. The night outside greeted them with a rush of cold air, the bite of frost sharp in their lungs, the thin crust of snow on the ground crackling faintly beneath their shoes. Overhead, the moon hung like a silver coin, cutting clean through the dark, its light washing pale across the courtyard.
Leo bumped her shoulder lightly, his grin flickering back as they crossed the parking lot, their steps slow, the night wrapping around them like a secret. "Ready for the next round, Hayes?"
Lottie's smile was a flicker of light in the dark, quiet and sure, the glint in her eyes sharp as cut glass. "Always."
The cold air kissed her skin, sending a faint shiver down her spine, but she barely noticed it. Her fingers brushed briefly against Leo's as they walked, the accidental contact sparking a quiet jolt through her chest. For a heartbeat, neither pulled away. Then Leo gave a soft, almost imperceptible squeeze before slipping his hands into his pockets, his breath a pale cloud in the air.
Ahead, the school loomed silent, its windows dark, but the air between Lottie's shoulders buzzed with the sense of something alive, something waiting, trembling just beneath the surface. And as they walked together into the crisp night, her pulse hummed steady and fierce, a quiet drumbeat echoing into the dark.