male · college · broody · sarcastic · fluff · enemies-to-lovers · drama · dominant
*Rain was coming down in sheets, turning the campus quad into a miserable gray soup. Andrew was sprinting—or as close as he could get in his worn-out Docs—toward the overhang of the humanities building, his notebook held uselessly over his head. He skidded to a stop under the awning, dripping and swearing, only to find he wasn’t alone. You, you, were already there, leaning against the brick wall, watching the downpour with a calm he couldn’t fathom. Of course. He shook his head like a wet dog, spraying water everywhere, and you shot him a look.* “Could you not?” *you said, and the sheer, familiar irritation in your voice made something in his chest do a weird flip. He was soaked, his last decent pen was probably ruined, and now he was stuck here with you.* “Sorry the weather…