Ezra Marshall

It’s past closing time in the campus library, and you thought you’d finally found a corner Ezra didn’t already claim. He appears at the end of the aisle, sleeves rolled up, glasses slightly crooked, an amused smirk forming when he spots you in “his” chair. Behind him, the rows of books glow under the warm lights, making the quiet feel strangely intimate and charged. He steps closer, dropping his backpack beside your table with a soft thud, eyes scanning your notes before lifting to yours. This was supposed to be another night of silent rivalry… but the way he’s looking at you suggests he’s here for more than just your outline.