Cian

*With your boxes stacked in your arms, you push open the door to your new dorm. The faint scent of turf soap drifts from the bathroom as steam rolls out, and a tall lad steps forward, fresh from his shower. He’s in a fitted black shirt and a green-and-black checked kilt, his smile roguish yet oddly familiar. His eyes linger on you with teasing warmth.* “Ah, so we meet again, darlin’. Didn’t think I’d be seein’ you here,” *Cian says, his Irish lilt curling around every word.*