Her architecture textbook lay across her lap, pages dense with lines and equations that blurred the longer she stared. She had been fighting with the same problem for hours, her pen hovering over the paper like it might strike brilliance. It didn’t.

Her chest tightened. Maybe I’m not cut out for this.

A sharp clatter shattered the thought.

A folder spilled open across the stone pathway, sending crisp sketches tumbling like leaves in the wind. Students weaved around them, unconcerned. Elena moved before she could stop herself, lunging to catch two sheets just as they slid toward the bushes.

“Here,” she said, offering them to the owner.

The girl before her straightened, and Elena stilled.

Tall. Poised. With a presence so sharp it sliced through the noise around them. Dark hair framed her face in soft, glossy waves, and her eyes — steady, bold, daring — locked onto Elena with an intensity that made her pulse stumble.

“Thanks,” the girl said, her voice smooth, velvety but edged with control. “First day and I’m already scattering my work everywhere.”

“You’re new?” Elena asked, almost too quickly.

“Transfer student.” The girl tucked her notes back into her folder with careful precision. She didn’t fidget like most newcomers; she stood with quiet assurance, as if she belonged everywhere she went. “Selene.”

“Elena.”

Selene’s gaze lingered longer than polite, searching, curious. Then her eyes flicked to the textbook on Elena’s lap. “Architecture?”

“Trying to be,” Elena muttered, laughing bitterly. “But mostly failing at it.”

“Struggling?”

The word cut sharper than it should have. “…Yeah. You could say that.”

Selene adjusted her folder under her arm, her expression unreadable but her tone deliberate. “Then let me help you.”

Elena blinked. “You’d… just do that? You don’t even know me.”

Selene smirked faintly. “Maybe I don’t need to. Maybe I just know I can.”

Elena gave a short laugh, shaking her head. “You sound ridiculously confident.”

“Confidence is half the work.” Selene’s eyes swept her notes, unimpressed. “And your pages look like they’ve been crying for hours. Am I wrong?”

“…You’re not wrong.”

Selene’s smirk softened into something close to a smile. “Then it’s settled. You get tutoring. I get coffee. Fair trade.”

“That was two sheets of paper I saved.”

“And this will be hours of my genius. You’re welcome.”

Elena laughed despite herself. “You’re impossible.”

“Or irresistible,” Selene countered smoothly.

The words landed heavier than Elena expected, making her look down to hide the warmth rushing to her cheeks.

“You’re strange,” Elena admitted quietly.

“And yet,” Selene said, voice low and steady, “you’re not telling me no.”

---

Later that evening

Elena wasn’t sure what possessed her to agree so quickly, but she found herself standing outside Selene’s hostel room. The door opened to reveal neat order: sketches pinned across the walls, a desk stacked with precise notes, a faint scent of jasmine in the air.

Selene leaned casually against the doorframe. “Welcome to my chaos. Try not to judge.”

Elena stepped in, eyes sweeping the room. “This is chaos? It looks like an exhibition.”

“Organized chaos,” Selene corrected with a smirk, guiding her toward the desk. “Sit. Let’s see what you’re struggling with.”

Elena dropped her bag and pulled out her battered notes. For the next hour, Selene explained concepts with a clarity her professors never managed. Her fingers occasionally brushed Elena’s as she corrected lines on her sketch, her voice dropping near her ear when she leaned in to guide her hand. Elena’s pulse betrayed her every time.

“You’re… good at this,” Elena admitted finally, setting her pen down.

Selene shrugged, leaning back in her chair. “I like building things that make sense. People, on the other hand…” She gave a small, knowing smile. “Not so simple.”

Elena tilted her head, intrigued. “So you think I don’t make sense?”

Selene’s eyes lingered on her, deliberate, almost daring. “I think you’re harder to read than you want people to believe.”

Elena flushed, laughing nervously. “You’ve known me for half a day.”

“And I already know you bite your lip when you’re stuck,” Selene replied smoothly. “And that you deflect with humor when you’re uncomfortable.”

Elena stared, caught off guard. “Okay, that’s… freaky.”

“Or observant,” Selene said with an elegant shrug. “Depends on how you take it.”

They shifted into easier talk after that — music, favorite films, childhood stories. To their surprise, they shared more than they expected: a love for late-night walks, a fascination with hidden places in the city, a habit of pretending to be fine when they weren’t.

At one point, their laughter overlapped so easily it startled Elena. It felt… rare. Natural. Like she had known Selene far longer than a single day.

As the night deepened, Selene leaned back, folding her arms behind her head. “You see? Not so impossible after all.”

Elena smiled faintly, feeling something tug in her chest she couldn’t explain. “No,” she admitted softly. “Not impossible at all.”

The room fell quiet, but not awkward. A silence that hummed, pulling them closer in ways neither dared name. Both girls felt it — the sense that they had stumbled into something neither of them could resist.