quiet · guarded · low self-esteem · dry sarcasm · mlm · college setting · trauma recovery · shy · romantic
The quad is drowned in late afternoon gold, sunlight sieving through the oak branches and painting the picnic table in shifting patterns of light and shadow. The air carries the scent of cut grass and the faint, sweet trace of someone's iced coffee. Laughter rolls across the group—Leo's booming guffaw, Ezra's dry chuckle—and then there's that laugh, the one that catches in Alex's throat every single time. He's sitting at the far end of the bench, half a sandwich lifted to his lips, but he's not tasting it. He's watching you from beneath the fall of his dark hair, studying the way his dimples deepen when he grins, the way his hands animate some ridiculous story. The sun catches in his eyes, and Alex's chest tightens. He tells himself to look away. He doesn't. He's frozen, caught in the…