The Bellwood library was huge and the sun filtered through its tall windows, catching on the dust notes that danced like old secrets in the quiet air. Maya led the way down the literature aisle with the kind of purpose that dared anyone to interrupt her. Her heels clicked softly on the floor, echoing between rows of tightly packed books.
Behind her, Logan followed.
He wasn't even trying to be subtle today.
Maya could feel the weight of his gaze that was not leering but it was steady. Curious. Like she was a puzzle he'd enjoy undoing one piece at a time.
"Can we maybe not take this so seriously?" he drawled as they reached the section on Victorian Literature. "You act like we are here to solve world hunger."
She turned, with a book already in her hand. "We are solving something. Your attention span."
He grinned, slow and lazy. "I'll have you know, my attention is entirely on you."
Maya gave him a tight smile and shoved a book into his chest A Room with a View. "Read this. Quietly."
He caught the book, but didn't look away from her. "You know, I like this version of you."
"This version?"
He leaned against the shelf beside her, the book resting untouched at his side. "The one who pretends she doesn't find me interesting. It's very noble. Very Elizabeth Bennet of you."
Maya exhaled a sharp laugh and crossed her arms. "You're not Darcy. You're not even Wickham."
Logan smiled wider. "Ouch. But you're wrong."
"I'm not."
"Then why are you still here?" he asked, eyes locked on hers. "You had every reason to walk away yesterday."
The forbidden question to the cultivated answers of this scenario refused to spill between them as they stared at each other.
Maya stepped closer to the shelf, scanning titles with feigned interest. She pulled out The Picture of Dorian Gray, mostly to avoid the intensity in his voice.
"I think you'll like this one," she said, holding it out to him. "Oscar Wilde had a knack for pretty men with dangerous appetites."
Logan took the book, fingers brushing hers briefly and intentionally.
"I already know it," he murmured, flipping the pages. "There's this one line that always stuck with me."
"What line?" she asked.
He didn't look up when he said it. "The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it."
The words hit her like a brush of silk over her skin, deceptively soft yet charged. A line meant to provoke, delivered with just enough edge to make it sting.
Maya stepped back, her heartbeat uneven, a flush blooming at the base of her throat.
"That explains a lot," she said, her tone cooler than she felt.
Logan closed the book gently, not smirking this time. "You think I'm just playing."
"Aren't you?"
"No," he said with a low voice. "But I think you wish I was."
The silence stretched, but it didn't feel awkward because it was too electric for that. It settled between them, heavy with tension and the unspoken questions neither dared to voice.
Maya looked at him then, he didn't have the polished façade, not even the charm. His expression was serious.
She cleared her throat, grounding herself. "We're here to study, Logan. Not to quote temptation at each other like it's foreplay."
His smile returned secretively. "Who said it wasn't both?"
Maya turned, grabbing another book, resisting the urge to throw it at him. Instead, she walked down the isle stiffly with a heart that was rattling.
And obviously, Logan continued following her. There were no words now. Just the sound of pages and footsteps and the knowledge that she was already in far deeper than she wanted to be.
---
Logan who was now slouched across from Maya, spread his legs widely, and his chair tilted just enough to suggest boredom. But his eyes were locked on her like a wolf watching her next move.
"You're not paying attention," she said without looking up.
"I am," he answered smoothly. "To everything that matters."
Maya kept her tone clinical, "Then tell me what the poem's structure implies about the speaker's emotional shift."
There was a silent pause. Then..."It's rigid, almost formal. Like he's trying to keep control, even while he's unraveling."
She looked up and damn it, he wasn't wrong.
"Good," she said grudgingly.
He smiled, that lazy tilt of his lips that felt less like a praise and more like promise. "You're impressed."
"I'm surprised."
"That too." He leaned in, his elbows on the table now, closer than she liked. "You know, I'd learn faster if you weren't so distracting."
Maya didn't roll her eyes, she was above that, but her mouth tightened in a very clear try me line.
"Logan-"
"Hey, Maya!"
The door to the study hall cracked open and Damian Wells stuck his head in, bright-eyed and casual, with a kind of boy-next door charm that Maya had always appreciated.
"Didn't know you were in here," he said stepping in fully. "I've been trying to catch you all week. You ghosted your classmates."
Maya's face softened into something warmer. "Yeah, I've been swamped. Sorry about that."
Damian grinned, with his hands in his pockets, and a body language that felt easy. "No worries. Just didn't want you to fall behind the rest of us, you know?"
"I'm actually tutoring someone right now," she said, motioning to Logan, whose posture had gone rigid with a silent tension.
Damian glanced at him. "Right. Hey, man."
Logan gave a short nod. "Hey." he responded flatly. It was cool and not quite rude, but about three degrees south of welcoming.
Damian looked back at Maya. "You're still on for the presentation next Friday? If you need help with the slides, I can-"
"I'm good," she said, smiling. "But thanks.
Their banter was light and quick. Familiar. It wasn't flirtation, but it had history, the kind of history that spoke of long study nights, inside jokes, and shared caffeine addictions with friends.
And Logan hated it.
She could feel it, coiled in the way he sat too still, his jaw ticking, fingers tapping a slow, deliberate rhythm against the table.
Damian didn't seem to notice, or maybe he did but he just didn't care.
"Anyway," he said after a beat. "We're grabbing coffee later. If you want to come."
Maya hesitated and she didn't look at Logan. "I'll let you know."
Damian smiled, nodding at Logan again, who didn't return it and he slipped out, the door clicking softly behind him.
Maya turned back to her notes.
"You two seem cozy," Logan said with a casual tone. Too casual.
"We're classmates."
"And you light up around him." He didn't look at her. He just stared at the page like he wanted to tear it in half.
"You're imagining things," she said coolly.
"I don't imagine. I observe."
She met his gaze, steadily. "This-" she gestured between them "-is about literature. Nothing else."
His tight smile returned sharply, "Right. Just literature."
She didn't reply. There was nothing to say that wouldn't feed whatever that was. Whatever he wanted it to be.
But as she refocused on the page, she felt his attention, hot and possessive, crawling over her like a second skin.
And even though she didn't want to admit it, a part of her liked that he hated watching someone else make her smile.