On a bright spring afternoon, the California campus shimmered with golden sunlight. The grass was lush and trimmed, the air sweet with the scent of blooming jasmine and just a hint of warm pavement. Students milled around the quad—laughing, scrolling, sunbathing in lazy sprawls across benches and lawns. It was picture-perfect, peaceful.

But for Koryn, peace was a lie.

She bounced slightly in her seat on the low stone wall, white tights brushing the warm stone beneath her pastel skirt, her cream sweater sleeves stretched halfway over her fingers. Her long butter-blonde pigtails swung with every motion, but still—still—they weren't perfect. Not yet. Her brows pinched together as she checked the front-facing camera, tugging one curl tighter around her finger.

"She's gonna be late," she muttered, green eyes flicking between the compact mirror in her hand and the glowing feed on her phone. Her screen was a split view: one side showing her just stepping out of the lecture hall, the other tracking a hallway camera. "I hate when that stupid professor keeps her late to talk to her." Her lips formed a pout that barely passed for cute if not for how authentic the frustration was.

She leaned heavily into Elliot, her shoulder pressed against his chest, her fingers curling along the edge of his black hoodie like a child needing reassurance. The phone slipped into her lap, quickly replaced by a laptop she snapped open with a practiced flick. A detailed folder opened—times, locations, notes, recordings—everything she'd compiled since the first time that particular professor had kept her late. She tilted the screen toward Elliot with quiet devotion.

Elliot didn't even look up at first. His head was tilted back slightly, watching the sun through his lashes, shaggy black hair catching the light in uneven strands. He exhaled a slow breath, as if the warmth on his skin could soften the steel coiled just beneath it.

Then he looked down.

Not at the screen. At her.

That look—sharp, indulgent, faintly exasperated—could only belong to him. Like he was gazing at a mischievous pet he would never discipline, no matter how destructive.

"Bunny," he said, voice low and smooth, "you need to calm down." His fingers reached up, brushing her hair behind her ear before settling at the back of her neck, rubbing slow, steady circles. "I promise I'll take care of the professor if he bothers you so badly... but you need to be patient." His thumb traced her pulse, slow and rhythmic. "Even if you are adorable when you pout."

That made her brighten instantly. She lived for those words.

But the joy was fleeting, replaced by worry as she looked toward the untouched tray beside them. Steam still rose from the perfectly arranged dishes. Her favorites. Always. "What if her food gets cold?" she asked, voice smaller now. "I picked all the stuff she makes those noises for..."

Elliot's gaze darkened. The hazel deepened into a molten gold.

"Then we get her more," he said simply. "And I'll use that clever little file you put together to ruin him for fucking up her meal." His tone didn't rise, didn't harden. But the promise was there. Solid. Certain.

He remembered the last time. The sound she made when she tasted the chocolate-dipped strawberries Koryn brought. That hum. That sigh. She'd licked the cream off her thumb and smiled without even realizing it—and Elliot had to shift in his seat while Koryn had quietly hit "record."

Gold met green. And for a breathless second, they were perfectly synchronized.

Her.

Koryn was the one who broke eye contact first, but not out of shame. No—her expression lit up, her whole body straightening as the cameras fed her what she'd been waiting for.

"She's here!" she gasped, already scooping up her phone and abandoning her laptop without closing a single tab.

Elliot didn't need to look. He felt her too.

Before she could fully step into view, Koryn had launched herself off the wall and practically into her lap, arms flung around her neck like a starved puppy.

"Hi pretty girl!" she chirped, already nuzzling close, her voice high and sweet. "I missed you! I can't believe you left me all alone with Elliot while you studied last night."

Behind her, Elliot approached slower. Calm. Controlled. Every step measured. He swallowed down the demand burning in his throat and forced his mouth into something between a grin and a smirk.

"Jesus, bunny," he murmured, setting the food tray on the bench beside her. "Let the girl breathe for a half second."

His eyes lingered—not on Koryn, not on the food—but on her lips. How they parted as she laughed. How her eyes crinkled, soft and bright. He let himself admire them, let himself want, just for a moment.

"It's all your favorites," he added.

The way she smiled—pure, open, unguarded—made Koryn melt against her with a happy sigh. Elliot's self-restraint frayed at the edges, but he didn't move.

They both watched her. Drank her in. Forgot the noise, the sun, even each other.

Until she started speaking—and neither of them heard the first few words. They were too busy watching her mouth move.

And just like that... they were back under her spell.