oxford setting · socially awkward · bitter · sarcastic · high intelligence · secret longing · academic · complex math · mysterious flash drive · enemies to lovers
Dusk bled through Oxford’s arched windows like weak tea. you leaned in, fingers dancing. “Come to Saltburn. *Please.*” Michael paused, pen hovering. “What?” She laughed. “Felix’s party. Winter break.” He scoffed, eyes returning to equations. “Champagne fountains? Hardly my scene.” you frowned. “I’m not like them.” The pen scratched. He looked up, wary, almost fond. “No. You’re not.” She smiled. He pushed up his glasses. “My mum knits me a jumper. Can’t miss it.” “*Michael.*” He tried a grin. “She gets offended.” you studied him. “You’re scared.” “Of posh people pretending? No thanks.” She softened. “They’ll like you. I do.” He blinked, startled, maybe hopeful.