After the party, Lucien didn't approach her.
That unsettled Zara more than if he had.
Three days.
Three entire days of passing each other across lecture halls, corridors, the dining hall.
No confrontation.
No teasing remarks.
No deliberate proximity.
Just distance.
On Thursday afternoon, Zara sat alone in the upper library gallery. The quiet section. The safe section.
Rain tapped softly against the tall windows.
She was halfway through annotating a case study when she felt it.
That awareness again.
She didn't look up immediately.
She refused to be predictable.
But when the chair across from her shifted—
Her eyes lifted.
Lucien.
He placed a book on the table between them.
The one she had left behind after Political Theory two days ago.
"You forgot this," he said quietly.
Her fingers stilled.
"I didn't realize."
"You don't miss details," he replied.
There was no accusation in his tone.
Just observation.
She reached for the book.
Their fingers didn't touch this time.
He made sure of it.
And that almost bothered her more.
"Why are you avoiding me?" she asked before she could stop herself.
His gaze flicked to her.
Measured.
"I thought you preferred distance."
"That wasn't my question."
Silence stretched between them.
Rain grew louder against the glass.
Lucien leaned back slightly, studying her in that unnerving way of his.
"You looked overwhelmed on the balcony," he said finally. "I don't push people who aren't ready."
Zara hadn't expected that.
"You seemed very confident that night," she replied.
"I am."
A pause.
"But confidence and recklessness aren't the same thing."
The word hung between them.
Reckless.
Her throat tightened slightly.
He wasn't trying to corner her now.
He wasn't even close enough to unsettle her.
And yet—
The tension felt deeper.
"You don't have to see me as a threat," he added softly.
She met his eyes.
"That depends on what you want from me."
His jaw shifted slightly.
Honesty flickered there.
Something less guarded.
"I don't fully know yet," he admitted.
That surprised her.
Lucien Ashford didn't strike her as a man who was uncertain about anything.
"But I know," he continued, voice low, steady, "that when you walk into a room, I notice."
"And I don't chase distractions," he added.
"So what am I?" she asked quietly.
His eyes darkened—not with possession this time, but depth.
"You're not a distraction."
That landed heavier than any flirtation could have.
The library remained silent.
Lucien stood slowly.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Zara."
He walked away without looking back.
And for the first time—
She didn't feel cornered.
She felt considered.
And somehow…
That was far more dangerous.