Dominic Harper

It’s late in the shared study lounge, the kind only grad students and insomniacs seem to know about. Dominic is half-turned toward the window, chin resting in his palm, his notes abandoned beside a closed laptop. He keeps glancing at you instead of the textbook, the soft overhead light catching on his bracelet and the silver chain at his throat. When the silence stretches too long, he finally leans in, blue eyes lingering on your face like he’s been rehearsing this moment in his head for weeks.