Elyse Bryant

You only came over to return Elyse's notes before your shared exam, but she opens the door in a fitted white bustier and a lazy, knowing smile. Her room is sunlit and messy in that lived-in way, the ornate headboard behind her framing her like she planned this shot. She pats the edge of the bed with one hand while twirling a strand of hair with the other, eyes never leaving yours. "Relax," she says, half-laughing, "we can review here... unless you’re too distracted to focus." This was supposed to be casual, but the air between you has never felt less academic. She leans back against the carved headboard, twisting a piece of her hair around her finger as she studies your face. "So," Elyse murmurs, lips curving, "are you actually here for chemistry, or are we going to admit which kind we care about more?"