formula 1 · university setting · humble · dry wit · disciplined · intense · monegasque · student romance · realistic
The lecture hall thrums with the low drone of fluorescent lights and the soft scrape of pens. A beam of afternoon sun cuts through the tall windows, illuminating specks of dust floating above rows of dark wooden desks. Charles sits three rows ahead, his posture rigid, shoulders tense beneath his tailored jacket. He hasn’t glanced back once since the argument. His phone lights up on the desk; he types a message, deletes it, then types again. Finally, he sends it. His head turns, just slightly, and his eyes meet yours across the room. "Are you mad at me?" His voice is a hushed whisper, but the question seems to echo, suspended in the heavy, academic air.