(Michelle Lui's POV)
By Wednesday morning, the cold air had settled into the city — that crisp early-December bite that made every breath feel like peppermint.
I loved it.
Sweater weather.
Hot drinks in both hands.
Scarves big enough to serve as blankets.
And… the quiet hush before Christmas break.
Except my brain wasn't quiet at all.
My brain was Steven Sy with his soft texts and softer voice and the way he said I want you okay like it was the most natural truth in the world.
I buried my face deeper into my warm scarf as I stepped into the car.
"Good morning, Miss Michelle," Matt greeted from the driver's seat.
"Morning," I murmured, still warm-cheeked.
He glanced at me through the rearview mirror.
"You seem… happy."
I slid down in my seat.
"It's the weather."
"Of course," he said politely. Which obviously meant: sure, Miss Michelle, and I am Santa Claus.
Matt knew too much.
Campus — The Rumors Haven't Died, But Michelle Has a 30-Year-Old Brain
