The library was quieter than usual. The hum of chatter that usually filled the aisles was muted, as if the walls themselves were heavy with all the gossip floating around campus.
Harper pushed through the doors anyway, clutching her books like a shield. She needed air. Space. Somewhere away from the eyes that had been tracking her every move since the picture leaked. The quad was suffocating, the cafeteria unbearable, and even her dorm felt too loud with her thoughts.
The library was her refuge. Or, at least, it had been.
She moved toward her usual corner—a tucked-away nook in the back, hidden by shelves that smelled like ink and dust. Her sneakers squeaked softly against the polished floor as she turned down the last row.
And froze.
Damian Blackwood was already there.
