Chapter 5 — Reluctant Teamwork
The notice board outside the lecture hall was crowded again, but this time it wasn't gossiping students—it was the project list, the dreaded semester-long assignment that practically dictated their grades.
Ava Thompson stepped forward, heart pounding in quiet dread. She scanned the list carefully, praying silently: *Please not him. Please not him. Please not—*
Her eyes landed on her fate.
**Project Partners: Ava Thompson — Recee Hart**
She froze. Someone behind her whistled. A girl giggled. A guy muttered, "Those two again? The lecturer wants drama."
Ava exhaled sharply through her nose, trying to look casual. *Of course. Of course it had to be him.*
Recee stood to her left, perfectly composed as always, his tall frame relaxed but alert. Hands in pockets, his gaze slid sideways to meet hers. Neither spoke.
"Library. After classes," he said finally, turning away as if expecting her to comply—which annoyed her more than anything.
"Who said I'm free after classes?" she called.
"You are," he replied calmly. "You always pick up your shift at six. Only three hours from now."
She blinked. *How does he even know that?* But she pushed the thought aside. Observant. That was all. Irritatingly so.
"Fine. Three o'clock. Don't be late," she muttered.
"I'm never late," he said, expression unreadable.
—
The library was quieter than usual, sunlight spilling through high windows, dust motes drifting lazily like snowflakes. Ava's unofficial spot was at the long wooden table near the back, and she reached it first. Recee was already seated, sleeves rolled up, notebook open, books stacked neatly beside him.
"You started without me?" she asked, trying to keep her tone light.
"You were three minutes late," he replied, eyes still on his notes.
"Three minutes isn't—"
"It is," he cut her off, voice calm but firm.
She narrowed her eyes but sat anyway. They fell into a comfortable silence at first. Ava flipped through the assignment description, muttering faintly to herself. Recee, methodical and precise, already had bullet points laid out, headings neat, handwriting perfect.
Working together before had been… a whirlwind of arguments, laughs, and moments that left her breathless. This felt like stepping into that same rhythm. Comfortable. Dangerous.
"So," Ava finally said, tapping her pen, "we divide the workload like last time? I handle data collection, you do analysis?"
Recee shook his head. "We'll both handle everything."
Her brows knit. "That's inefficient."
"It prevents you from overworking yourself again," he said casually.
Ava froze. *Again. He remembered that?*
"Well, maybe I like overworking," she said, attempting a joke, but the flutter in her chest betrayed her.
"No. You're just used to it," he replied softly.
Their eyes met, holding too long. Something unspoken passed between them—concern, familiarity, maybe even… care. Ava looked away first, pretending to focus on her notebook.
—
Minutes slipped by, punctuated by quiet mutters, pen scratches, and the occasional pointed correction.
"You misread that equation," Ava said, pointing at his page.
"No, I didn't," he replied, rotating the notebook toward himself.
"Yes, you did. Look—" She leaned closer, brushing her shoulder against his. She smelled faintly of soap, old paper, and faint coffee—comforting and distracting. He didn't move away.
She corrected the symbol, heart fluttering. "Here. Wrong unit."
He blinked. "You're distracted."
"Or maybe I'm just better," she teased.
His lips curved faintly. "Don't let it get to your head."
*Too late,* she thought, feeling a strange lightness in her chest.
—
Across the library, she noticed Mia and Ethan at another table. Mia was whispering something, eyes flicking to Ava with curiosity. Ethan leaned back, smirking, clearly entertained.
"They look married," Ethan muttered softly to Mia, nudging her.
Mia rolled her eyes. "They're just… working. But yeah, it's ridiculous how obvious it is."
Ethan grinned. "Perfect storm. Chaotic and calm—my kind of entertainment."
Ava caught none of that. She was too focused on Recee. But even in the background, Mia's quiet observation added a layer of tension, a silent reminder that not all stories in the library were about Ava.
—
Hours passed. Ava stretched, groaning softly, as fatigue crept in. Recee watched quietly.
"You should take a break," he said, voice low.
"I'm fine," she replied quickly.
"You always say that when you're not."
Her eyes flicked up, meeting his gaze. He looked away first this time, giving her space. Yet the silent care, the quiet presence, lingered in the air.
Even the smallest movements—his pen sliding, his hand adjusting a page—felt magnified, charged with unspoken energy.
—
When the clock neared six, Ava began packing her books. Recee's notebook closed slowly, his organized stacks still neat.
"This wasn't… horrible," she admitted reluctantly.
"I'll take that as a compliment," he replied evenly.
Ava rolled her eyes but couldn't fully hide her small smile. "Tomorrow, same time?"
He nodded.
As she walked out, she paused in the dim corridor, hand resting on the wall. Her chest felt fluttery in a way she didn't like—or maybe liked too much.
She shouldn't get used to this—him, the easy rhythm, the quiet support.
*But what if teamwork isn't the only thing I start wanting?*
She pushed the thought away and hurried down the steps, unaware that even across the library, Ethan was still watching her, grinning knowingly at Mia.
"Looks like chaos has a fan club," he said, eyes sparkling with mischief.
Mia shook her head, hiding a smile. "And it's only going to get worse."