His shoulders shifted, like he regretted saying it out loud. “My parents… had other plans,” he added, and there was a faint edge of bitterness that hadn’t been there before. “They made sure I learned how to be what they needed me to be.”
“A leader,” I said.
“A leader,” he echoed, quieter this time.
For a moment, he just stood there with one hand resting on a row of books, staring at the titles but not really seeing them.
It tugged at something I didn’t want to name.
“You’re kind of… a nerd,” I mumbled, eyes fixed on the books in front of me. Then, because apparently I’d lost all sense of self-preservation, I added, “A nerd in a six-foot… irritatingly attractive body.”
The words were out before I could drag them back. Heat climbed up my neck, and I instantly wished I could disappear behind the shelves.
From behind me came a low, amused hum.
When I finally risked a glance over my shoulder, his smile was slow, deliberate, like he was savoring every second of my regret.
“I guess I should say thanks,” he said.
I turned back to the shelf before it could do something stupid to me, like make me pity him.
I didn’t come here for him. I came here for answers.
And yet…
Every time I reached for a book, I could feel him there. Close. Not crowding, but close enough that my body noticed even when my head tried not to.
At one point, he stepped in behind me to grab a book from the top shelf. His arm brushed past my shoulder and I felt the warmth of him at my back.
I froze.
The air between us changed,, narrower, thicker somehow. My pulse jumped, and I had to force myself not to move, not to let the shiver that ran up my spine show.
But I failed.

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