VERA
The room filled with the scrape of wood against wood as chairs dragged back across the floor. The sound layered over itself—desks shifting, backpacks rustling, the dull thud of textbooks snapping shut. Conversations sparked to life in scattered bursts, rising into a noisy hum that pressed against the classroom walls.
"Okay class, midterms are tomorrow."
Mrs. Tera's voice cut cleanly through the chaos.
"I would wish you luck," she continued dryly, "but if you've been paying attention thus far, you won't need it."
The bell chimed overhead, its metallic echo rattling through the speakers. Somehow, even that seemed to dim beneath the sharp edge of her voice.
I still didn't understand how she'd managed to get hired here.
Sometimes I was convinced she hated us.
I tried tuning her out as I gathered my things, sliding loose papers into my folder and stacking the books scattered across my desk. But her voice lingered anyway, threading through the noise as it refused to leave.
I reached down for my backpack.
A hand shot out and snatched it first.
I looked up, a frown tugging at my mouth.
Rylan.
"I'll take that," he said casually, already slinging the bag over his shoulder.
The grin plastered across his face only made my frown deepen.
"I wasn't done with that."
The desk creaked under his weight as he leaned against it, tilting his head slightly. A strand of hair slipped, covering his eye, but he didn't bother brushing it away.
"No?" he said.
It sounded less like a question and more like a challenge.
A scoff slipped past my lips. I lifted the book still in my hand and gestured with it.
"Oh, my bad. Just toss it in."
He straightened, setting the bag back down on the desk.
I slid the book inside and zipped the bag shut. The sound was sharp in the thinning noise of the classroom. Rylan immediately picked the bag back up, adjusting the strap over his shoulder.
"We still on for the library?" he asked, already headed toward the door.
We'd made the plan last week—one final run through the semester's material before midterms. At the time, it had sounded responsible.
Now I was starting to regret not suggesting a café instead.
I'd woken up late and skipped breakfast, and the thought of sitting in the silent, dusty, quiet library while my stomach growled wasn't exactly appealing.
"Yeah," I said, falling into step behind him. "We're still on."
The chatter inside the classroom dissolved the moment we stepped into the hallway—only to be replaced by something worse.
Students packed the center of the walkway in loose clusters, laughing too loudly, voices bouncing off the walls and tiled floor. The noise swelled into a chaotic wave.
I tried to keep up, but weaving through the crowd slowed me down. I bumped shoulders with someone and muttered a quick apology that disappeared instantly beneath the roar of conversation.
"You're falling behind."
I looked up.
Rylan had turned halfway around, now glancing over his shoulder at me.
"Was not."
He chuckled, soft and easy. Carefree.
Despite myself, my lips twitched into a smile.
"Sure."
His hand reached out and caught my wrist before I could protest. His grip was warm, steady. I didn't resist as he tugged me forward, carving a path through the crowd like it was nothing.
Eventually the noise faded as we reached the far end of the hall.
The library doors waited there, tall and worn from years of use.
Rylan pushed one open. It squeaked in protest, the sound long and drawn-out.
Inside, the air felt different—cooler somehow, and thick with the faint scent of old paper and dust. The noise of the hallway vanished the moment the door closed behind us.
Only one sound remained.
The quiet shuffling of the librarian sorting books somewhere in the stacks.
Sunlight streamed through the tall windows along the wall, catching in the slow drift of dust floating through the air.
We settled at a table near the glass.
Rylan dropped our bags onto the surface before pulling out a chair and sitting down.
I collapsed into the seat across from him.
"Alright," I said, leaning forward slightly. "What do we got?"
"Well…" He opened his folder, flipping through the pages. "Truthfully, I don't have much regarding midterms. I've been studying the past few weeks."
He pulled out a sheet of paper.
"But I do have some homework that needs finishing."
I folded my arms.
"So you came to a midterm study session to… what? Not study for midterms?"
A quiet scoff escaped me as I unzipped my bag and pulled out my workbook. It was supposedly some cult classic—which, in my opinion, meant reading confusing nonsense and pretending it had just changed your life.
"You invited me," he said without looking up. "I just tagged along. Besides, I'm still going to be studying."
"Whatever you say."
I flipped the book open and skimmed until I found the page I'd abandoned last time.
The bolded heading stared back at me.
"The History of Aestrials"
I sighed and began reading.
"The history of Aestrials is a complicated one.
Some scholars believe that blessings were gifts from Seraphs, though this remains one of the most heavily debated topics.
One point of agreement, however, is that these blessings exist to help humanity thrive and evolve. Which is why today we're going to learn how you can make a difference in your community.
Whether your blessing is healing or telekinesis, this book will guide you in learning how to help those around you.
So buckle up—and remember: helping others is a form of helping yourself."
I groaned and shut the book.
I'd been trying to read this thing for three weeks.
I still couldn't make it past the introduction.
My eyes drifted up from the page.
Across the table, Rylan was writing something in his notes. His brows were drawn together in concentration, the small crease between them giving away how deeply focused he was.
Honestly… I kind of admired that about him.
He took his academic success seriously. His grades were always near the top of the class. His combat and strategy scores were pretty good too—could use improvement, sure, but still better than most.
Not that I'd ever admit that out loud.
He was already enough of a show-off. The compliment would go straight to his head.
A sudden grumble from my stomach pulled me out of the thought.
I huffed quietly, setting my book down.
"Hey."
I tapped the table lightly to draw his attention.
"I'm hungry," I said. "Can we swing by the cafeteria?"
His eyes stayed fixed on the page for a few seconds longer before he finally glanced up.
"Alright," he said. "Let me finish this last question."
He looked back down, and the motion sent a few crimson strands of hair falling across his forehead.
The sunlight spilling through the window caught in them, turning the red almost copper in the glow.
Paired with the soft light across his face, it wasn't a terrible sight.
***
After lunch—nothing fancy, just a burger and fries that tasted far better than cafeteria food had any right to—we drifted back to the library and buried ourselves in textbooks again.
The hours slipped by quietly. Pages turned. Pens scratched. Somewhere in the distance a clock ticked with slow, patient certainty.
By the time I finally looked up, the library had thinned to only a few scattered students and the soft glow of desk lamps.
10:45.
Junior curfew was 11.
"We should start heading back," Rylan said, already packing up his things with the efficiency of someone who'd been watching the clock far more carefully than I had.
"Wait—you're supposed to quiz me!" I protested, leaning across the table. "I want to make sure I actually have everything memorized."
"It's almost curfew," he said simply, zipping his bag shut.
I crossed my arms. "You already said you'd do it."
"Vera, that was before you spent three hours staring at the same page." He reached over and started packing my bag for me like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I opened my mouth to argue… then closed it again.
He had a point.
In my defense, though, that book could double as a highly effective sleeping pill.
I stood as he finished clearing the table.
"Fine," I sighed. "That one's on me."
We headed toward the library doors, our footsteps echoing softly across the polished floor. When we reached them, Rylan pushed one open and held it while I stepped through.
"Alright," I said as we started down the corridor, lowering my voice like I was proposing a secret deal. "How about this—you let me come over for a bit. I do the quiz, finish studying, and then I sneak back to my dorm."
He laughed.
Actually laughed.
"No. First—why my place? Your dorm is bigger. Second—our buildings are on opposite sides of campus. There's no way security doesn't catch you."
"I have a roommate," I said quickly as we pushed through the main doors and stepped out into the cool night. "You don't. And Selene's usually asleep by this time."
"I want to sleep too, you know."
I scoffed. "Since when are you an early sleeper?"
He didn't answer right away. We walked down the dim stone path cutting across campus, the lampposts casting long shadows across the grass.
"Come on," I said, nudging his shoulder. "Help me out just this once. Please?"
He glanced over at me, considering.
Then he sighed.
"Fine."
I blinked. "Wait—really?"
I'd expected at least another minute of arguing.
"That took very little convincing," I said, bumping his arm again.
"Regardless, thanks. I owe you."
"You can repay me by not waiting until the last second to study."
"Hm." I pretended to think about it. "I don't know. That's a pretty big ask."
He shook his head, but there was the faintest hint of a smile.
The walk to his dorm took about ten minutes, though the quiet back-and-forth made it feel shorter. The campus had settled into that late-night stillness where everything felt softer—lamps humming overhead, leaves whispering in the breeze, distant dorm windows glowing like scattered stars.