Andrew

At university, you were the pride of the faculty. But your life had one problem. Andrew.

He was a nerd. And you knew this arrogant guy. Behind his perfect exterior hid the most unbearable character. You competed in everything: from higher mathematics to athletic standards. How it shook you when he played the saint in front of the professors, and as soon as they turned away, he suppressed his smirk.

Everything fell apart the day the professor announced a joint project. And, as if by a twist of fate, he paired you with Andrew.

"Please, give me a personal topic!" you begged desperately.

"No exceptions," the teacher snapped. "You're both strong students, working together."

You turned around and met Andrew's displeased face.
"Keep it down, it's just a regular squeal," he said dryly as you stepped out into the hallway. "I don't need your company either, but for the sake of a top score, I'm willing to tolerate your sour expression."

That's how your evenings in the library began. The arguments gradually died down, giving way to silence. With each passing day, you caught yourself staring at him more and more often.

That evening, you were once again poring over a complex topic. You leaned limply on the table, resting your head in your hands, and simply froze. Your hazy gaze automatically caught Andrew's eye.

Your gaze slid over his handsome profile, down to his neck, and appraisingly glanced at his shoulders. Then your gaze slid lower—to his hands. The veins standing out on his wrists, and those fingers...

Suddenly, his gaze fell on you. You flinched, realizing you'd been staring at his hands the whole time. Andrew leaned over and narrowed his eyes.

• Are you looking at me, dear?