It was just past noon when Clara's phone buzzed softly beside her textbook, the vibration low and rhythmic, cutting through the quiet monotony of her marketing lecture. She was barely listening to the professor anymore, her notes were half-finished, her pen idle in her hand as she peeked down at her screen. A message from Liam lit up her display, and her heart gave a small, involuntary skip.
Liam: What's your plan after class, clever fox?
The nickname brought a smile to her lips before she could stop it. She bit the end of her pen, feeling the corners of her mouth twitch upward as her fingers quickly tapped out a reply.
Clara: Library. I need to find a few reference books for the presentation. Might take a while.
His response came within seconds, making her feel like he'd been waiting.
Liam: Then I'm coming with you.
Clara blinked, surprised, her eyebrows lifting slightly as she typed back.
Clara: You don't have to. It'll be boring. Just me surrounded by dusty shelves and paperbacks.
Liam: Sounds perfect. Plus, I haven't seen how you look when you're focused.
She froze for a moment, staring at the message as a slow blush crept up her neck. She didn't reply right away, instead closing her phone and pretending to focus, though her mind was anything but quiet.
When classes finally ended, Clara made her way to the campus library with a stack of notebooks and a tote bag slung over her shoulder. Her books pressed against her hip as she climbed the library steps, and there he was, just like he said he'd be. Liam stood casually against the stone archway of the entrance, hands tucked into the pockets of his navy hoodie, the wind gently tousling his dark hair. He looked relaxed, effortlessly cool in that way only he could manage, and when he saw her, his face lit up with a smile that made her stomach flip.
"I'm sorry, did you wait long?" Clara asked.
"Not long, I just ended my class too," he replied.
Once inside, the atmosphere shifted. Clara had known that Liam drew attention but seeing it firsthand in the quiet hush of the library caught her off guard. Students turned to look. Whispers rippled through the shelves. Girls peeked over the tops of books, some whispering, others blatantly staring. A few tried to act casual, flipping through textbooks while sneaking glances at Liam like he was a celebrity walking among the ordinary. One girl even approached Clara directly while she was seated cross-legged on the floor, flipping through a dense marketing case study.
"Hi!" the girl chirped. "Sorry to interrupt, but… is he your boyfriend?" She nodded subtly toward Liam, who was engrossed in an economics volume a few feet away.
Clara blinked, caught off guard. "We're… studying," she said, trying to keep her tone light.
The girl smiled, not bothering to hide the glint of curiosity or maybe it was envy in her eyes.
"He's super cute." And with that, she wandered off, sneaking another glance over her shoulder.
Clara sighed and returned to her reading, trying not to let the small spark of jealousy simmer too close to the surface. She knew Liam was charming. She knew people noticed him. That didn't make it easier.
A few minutes later, Liam returned and dropped down beside her. What was that about?"
Clara didn't look up. "Apparently, you're popular."
Liam leaned in, his voice soft and teasing as his lips brushed close to her ear. "Are you jealous?"
Her pencil paused mid-sentence. She turned to face him, only to find his smirk waiting—smug, but laced with affection.
"A little," she admitted quietly, heat rising to her cheeks.
He tilted his head, his expression softening.
"Good," he murmured. "Because I only came for you."
Simple words. No theatrics. But they landed squarely in her chest, making her pulse skip as she stared at him.
After they had finished gathering the books and articles Clara needed from the library, Liam surprised her with an unexpected invitation. "Why don't we head to my place?" he said t's quieter. I've got this massive table in the sunroom, perfect for spreading things out. Plus, you haven't tried my mom's cheesecake yet. That's a crime, Clara." She blinked, taken aback by how natural it felt, how easily he spoke about sharing his world with her.
Going to his house felt like more than just a change of scenery, it felt like a step closer, into a space he didn't open to just anyone. But then he tilted his head, that hopeful glint in his eye melting away any hesitation she had. She nodded, cheeks warming. "Okay. I'd like that." The Reynolds estate was grand, as expected from the heir to the Reynolds Group, but it surprised Clara with how warm it felt. Nestled in a quiet, tree-lined neighborhood just outside the city, the house exuded quiet elegance. Marble floors gave way to plush rugs, tall windows let in soft afternoon light, and family portraits lined the hallway in carefully mismatched frames that made the house feel lived-in, not staged. When they stepped inside, the scent of something sweet and buttery wrapped around her like a hug.
"Mom?" Liam called, his voice echoing gently through the high ceilings. A moment later, a kind-eyed woman appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "Hey Clara, nice to see you again," she said with a warm smile that lit up the entire foyer. "I'm sorry for the sudden visit, Mrs. Reynolds," Clara replied, instantly charmed.
"Oh, don't be, I am really happy to have you as our guest," she said, holding Clara's both hands on hers.
"Come in, come in! Liam's been talking about you." Then she turned to her son, raising an eyebrow. "You didn't tell me you are inviting Clara today, I would have prepared more tea break today." "Mum, I only told Clara about the cheesecake you baked. That would be enough," Liam reassured.
Clara stepped into the sunroom while Liam helped set the table, and true to his word, the space was beautiful with floor-to-ceiling windows framed a garden glowing with the warm hues of late afternoon sunlight, casting golden patches across the hardwood floor. The massive wooden table in the center of the room had already been claimed by a gentle kind of chaos: scattered reference books, highlighters in a rainbow of colors, printouts marked with Liam's neat handwriting… and now, her cream-colored sweater draped across the back of the nearest chair, like it already belonged there.
Mrs. Reynolds brought out the cheesecake a few minutes later. It was a soft, creamy slice with a golden biscuit crust and a subtle hint of citrus that filled the room with a sweet, comforting aroma. She placed the plates down with a wink. "Careful," she said cheerfully, "this recipe is known to win hearts."
Clara took her first bite, and her eyes widened in delight. The smooth texture melted on her tongue, perfectly balanced with the gentle tartness of lemon and the warmth of the buttery crust. "This is heavenly," she breathed, barely holding back a moan. "I'm not even exaggerating. It might be the best cheesecake I've ever had."
"I'm glad that you like it. Alright? I shall not disturb you two," Mrs. Reynolds smiled knowingly, retreating into the kitchen.
Liam watched her with a boyish grin, clearly enjoying her reaction more than the dessert. He leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on his hand as he studied her. "You know," he said, his voice low enough that it sent a little shiver down her spine, "You're the first person I've ever brought home to try my mom's cheesecake."
Clara blinked, mid-bite. Her fork hovered in midair as the words registered, and a soft pink bloomed across her cheeks. "W-What?" she stammered, looking up at him wide-eyed.
Liam just grinned, unbothered, clearly enjoying the way her face flushed so easily. "You heard me," he said, his voice warm and teasing. "First one. Ever."
Clara set her fork down a little too quickly, suddenly hyper-aware of everything, the way he was leaning closer now, elbows resting on the table, how his gaze never left hers. She looked away but her pulse was fluttering like mad.
"I just happened to be the first one I guess?" Clara tried to remain calm despite her voice sounded breathless to her own ears.
Liam chuckled. "Maybe. Or maybe I just really wanted you here." His thumb brushed along the rim of his coffee mug, but his eyes… his eyes told a different story. There was something in the way he looked at her now. There was no teasing or humor, just quiet, burning sincerity.
Clara swallowed, her heart hammering against her ribs. "You're really good at this," she murmured.
"At what?"
"At making my heart race."
Liam's smile deepened, softer now. He reached across the table, his fingers brushing over hers lightly, and the contact sent a spark up her arm. "Good," he said simply, leaning a little closer.
"Because you've been making mine race since the first moment you looked at me like I was someone you remembered."
Her breath hitched.
Then, Liam leaned in slowly, deliberately and whispered against her ear, "You're dangerous when you blush like that." Liam then press the gentlest kiss to her temple. Clara melted on the spot.
Her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink as she blinked, dazed by the closeness, the warmth of him, the quiet intimacy of a moment that felt far more charged than anything loud or dramatic. She cleared her throat and sat back slightly, her hand still curled in his beneath the table.
"I… I should start working on my school stuff," she mumbled, her voice barely audible, trying to collect the scattered pieces of her thoughts.
"Alright, I promise I will let you concentrate on your school work," Liam distanced himself from her to give her some space to focus.
They sat across from each other at the table, papers spread out between them, quietly working in the comfortable hum of their shared silence.
Occasionally, Liam would glance up from his laptop and watch Clara as she scribbled notes, her lips pursed in concentration, her fingers twirling a pen absentmindedly. Once, she caught him staring and raised an eyebrow. "Do I have ink on my face?"
"No," Liam said, biting back a grin. "You just look very intense when you're in study mode. It's kind of cute."
Clara's cheeks flushed, and she ducked her head to hide a smile. A few minutes later, Liam reached across the table, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear without saying a word. His fingers brushed her cheek, warm and soft, and Clara froze just for a second before her eyes lifted to meet his. They lingered there, the space between them suddenly smaller, more intimate than the piles of paper suggested.
She cleared her throat and looked back down at her textbook. "You're distracting, you know that?"
Liam leaned back in his chair with a mock-innocent look. "Me? I'm just simply helping you to adjust your hair strands."
Clara struggling to suppress a smile as she bit her lip. "You're unbelievable."
After an hour, Clara yawned and leaned her head back, stretching her arms above her, Liam reached over and poked her side lightly. "Getting tired already?"
She swatted at his hand, laughing. "I've been more productive in the last hour than I usually am all week."
"Must be my influence."
"Or your mom's cheesecake," she teased.
And when the sun dipped lower and the sky slowly turning orange, Clara looked up and found Liam watching her again. Just… quietly admiring. Like he couldn't believe she was really there.
"What?" she asked, smiling shyly.
He shook his head. "Nothing. Just glad you're here."
Clara's heart fluttered. His quiet presence, the warmth in his eyes, and the way her sweater sat at home on his table like it belonged.
Mrs. Reynolds invited Clara to stay for dinner, and it didn't feel like a formality, it felt like being welcomed into a family she hadn't realized she needed.
Dinner was easy and full of laughter. Clara and Mrs. Reynolds chatted about cooking mishaps, Liam's childhood antics, and even shared a few stories about Clara's dad. As she watched Liam joke and smile with his mother, showing a softer, more caring side than she'd ever seen at school, Clara felt something warm settle in her chest.
She felt lucky to be here, to see this side of him, and to be part of something that felt like home.
After dinner, Clara checked the time and slowly stood. "I should get going. It's getting late."
Liam was already reaching for his car key. "I'll drive you."
"Liam," she said softly, "you've had a long day. I can take the bus. Really." But he was already halfway to the door.
"Not happening. There's no way I let you take a crowded bus alone at night." She smiled, heart brimming.
"You're so stubborn. Only when it comes to you," he murmured, holding the door open for her.
The car ride home was quiet. As they pulled up in front of her house, the streetlamp cast a soft glow over the interior of the car. Clara turned to him, her hand still resting on the seatbelt.
"Thank you," she said, voice gentle. "For everything today."
Liam leaned toward her, brushing his fingers along the back of her hand, eyes lingering on her face.
"You make it really easy to share things I usually don't." Her heart fluttered, full to the brim.
"Goodnight, Liam." He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her knuckles, his gaze never breaking from hers.
"Goodnight, Clara." She stepped out of the car slowly, warmth blooming in her chest, her hand still tingling from the touch of his lips. She didn't stop smiling the whole way inside, and long after she'd curled up beneath her covers, fingers still brushing over the place where he kissed her.