Taylor was still stuffing her books back into her bag when their professor's voice echoed through the classroom.
> "Remember, your project proposals are due next week. Work with your assigned partners."
Taylor glanced sideways. Great. Her assigned partner was him.
Chris Bennett — the guy who'd spent the last hour answering every question like he wrote the textbook himself.
He stood beside her desk, phone in hand and that same confident smirk tugging at his lips.
> "Well, looks like we're stuck together, Evans."
> "Unfortunately," she said, shoving her notebook into her bag.
> "Come on, don't look so thrilled," he teased, stepping closer. "You might actually enjoy working with me."
> "Highly doubt it."
Chris chuckled. "We'll see about that. Let's make this easier — give me your number?"
Taylor froze for a second. "Excuse me?"
> "Relax. It's for the project," he said, grin widening. "Unless you think I'm asking you out already."
She rolled her eyes. "Already? That implies you ever will."
> "Touché," he said, handing her his phone. "Type it in, smartmouth."
Taylor snatched the phone, typing her number quickly before handing it back.
> "There. Strictly academic."
> "Sure," he said, tapping her contact name. "Taylor the Terrifying."
> "Change it."
> "Nope. It suits you."
She gave him a look that could kill, but Chris only laughed as the bell rang.
--
Later that evening, Taylor's phone buzzed.
Chris Bennett: Library. Tomorrow. 4 PM. Don't be late.
Taylor Evans: You're bossy for someone who can't even spell my name right.
Chris Bennett: You'll survive. Bring snacks.
Taylor couldn't help the small smile that crept across her face. She told herself it was just amusement — not interest. Definitely not that.
---
The next day, the library was quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioner and the faint rustle of pages. Taylor sat at one of the long wooden tables, tapping her pencil impatiently.
When Chris walked in, every girl at the nearby tables turned to look. He had his usual lazy confidence — hands in his pockets, hair slightly messy, that easy grin that looked too practiced.
He dropped his bag on the table and sat across from her.
> "You're early. Didn't expect that."
> "You said four. It's four," she said simply.
> "You actually follow instructions. Impressive."
> "And you actually showed up on time. Miracles do happen."
Chris laughed quietly. "You're feisty. This might be fun."
Taylor ignored him and opened her notebook. "So, let's start with the outline."
For the next hour, they worked — or tried to. Every few minutes, Chris interrupted her focus with sarcastic comments or little jokes. And even though it annoyed her, Taylor found herself laughing more than once.
At one point, he leaned forward, looking over her notes. "You've got the basics right, but your argument's weak."
> "Thanks for the confidence boost," she said flatly.
> "Hey, I'm helping you. You're smart — just… not in the same way I am."
> "Meaning?"
> "You think with your heart," he said, eyes meeting hers. "I think with my head."
Taylor blinked, caught off guard by the sudden seriousness in his tone. For a second, the playful wall between them dropped — and she saw something real in his expression.
Then he smirked again. "Which means you'll probably annoy me to death."
> "Good," she said, smiling despite herself. "Wouldn't want to make it too easy for you."