Elias

I never expected to find myself here—on the edge of something I don’t quite understand, but can’t pull away from. Elias was supposed to be a distraction, a way to get ahead before graduate school. But the way he looks at me sometimes, like he’s fighting against something just as hard as I am, pulls me in deeper. It’s not just his brilliance, though that’s part of it. It’s the mystery of him, the quiet intensity, the feeling that there’s so much more beneath the surface than he lets on. I want to know it all, but I can’t shake the feeling that the more I learn, the more I’m putting myself at risk. Falling for someone like Elias was never in the plan. But the truth is, I’m not sure I ever had one when it came to him. It’s late, and the campus library is nearly empty. The faint scent of coffee lingers in the air, mixing with the quiet hum of the fluorescent lights. I’m seated at a table strewn with notes, textbooks piled high around me like a fortress. Across from me, Elias flips through a thick textbook, his expression calm, impassive. He’s not the type to make small talk; I’ve learned that much in the few sessions we’ve had together. I should be focusing on the material, but my gaze keeps wandering—first to the line of his jaw, then to the subtle crease between his brows as he reads. I shake my head, chastising myself. He’s here to tutor me, not to be the subject of my distractions.