8
Hazel
I sat hunched over a pile of textbooks in the quiet corner of the library, my pen clicking as I highlighted key points in my notes. The soft hum of the fluorescent lights blended with the muffled sound of pages turning and quiet murmurs from other students. A rare, peaceful moment distanced the outside world. But the peace didn’t last long. I felt a shift in the air, a change in the atmosphere. Someone was watching me. A swift look to the side revealed a figure leaning against the bookshelf behind me. When I turned, I met his gaze, and Campbell’s familiar grin greeted me.
“Why are you here?” I asked, my voice flat but tinged with curiosity. “Did you get lost?”
He raised an eyebrow, pushing himself off the shelf with an easy swagger. His grin widened.
“I came here to steal your study time.” He said, his voice laced with the cocky charm I associated him with.
He flashed an infuriating grin, enjoying my reaction. I rolled my eyes.
“Of course you are,” I said, looking at my notes, trying to ignore him. But he wouldn’t leave. He slid into the seat across from me, as if he knew how much his presence unsettled me. He didn’t speak; he just leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving my face. The tension-filled silence between us lingered whenever he was nearby. I needed to break it. “What do you want?” I asked, not looking up from my work.
He leaned forward, his lips curling into a smirk that made me want to reach over and punch him.
“You, mostly,” he said, his tone teasing. “But I think you’ve figured that out.”
My eyes narrowed, but I refused to take the bait. I exhaled, shaking my head.
“Great. So, you’re here to mess with me?”
He sat back again, arms crossed, studying me.
“Not exactly,” he said, his tone shifting enough for me to sense something changed. He straightened in his seat, his gaze more focused. “I need help with English Lit.”
I blinked, surprised.
“What?” I asked, tilting my head in confusion. “Why would I help you?”
He shrugged, a hint of something showing in his eyes.
“I’m failing,” he said, his voice low. “And if I don’t do better, I’ll get kicked off the team.”
The admission struck me like a lightning bolt. My expression softened, but I masked it with a sigh. I never ignored a person in need, even if it was Campbell Atwood. I rubbed my temple in frustration.
“Why are you asking me?”
Campbell shifted, but didn’t look away.
“Isn’t this your expertise?”
It was my best subject. I studied him, my fingers tapping on my textbook as I thought. I hated the idea of helping him, especially when he was so insufferable. His voice hinted at desperation.
“Fine,” I said, sighing. “I’ll help you, but you better take this seriously.”
His grin reappeared, but it was softer, almost genuine.
“You have no idea how serious I am,” he said. “And hey,” he added with a wink. “Thanks for not shutting me out.”
I rolled my eyes, but the faintest smile tugged at the corner of my lips.
“Don’t thank me yet,” I said, returning to my notes. “You’re still on thin ice. And you owe me a lifetime supply of Redbull . They’re my guilty pleasure.”
He laughed, standing up and stretching with that simple confidence of his.
“I’ll make sure not to disappoint you.” He said, giving me one last teasing smile before turning to leave.“And I won’t forget about the Red Bull.”
I watched him go, his footsteps echoing in the distance. I couldn’t help but feel that helping him might end up being more trouble than it was worth. But then again, I’d never been good at ignoring someone who needed me. Why did I have to be such a good fucking person?