"Home isn't hard to find, just wrap me in your arms and I'll wrap you in mine."
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The second we stepped into the Library, it hit me-the air smelled like paper, coffee, and stress. Start of term, academic panic in full swing, students drowning in guilt before lectures even began.
We climbed the stairs and headed toward Level One, weaving through clusters of students who had set up camp like they were staying for the week.
Cameron grabbed the exact textbook he needed from the shelf, practically slamming it against his chest like it was a newborn child. I picked a random one heavy enough to function as a weapon.
We slid into two empty seats at the far corner, right by the windows, which had already started to fog up.
People kept flooding in. Bags were being dumped. Whispered arguments over plugs and charging ports erupted.
And then the chair opposite us shifted.
I didn't even look up. Probably some other desperate student trying to find a free spot. This place was a warzone during term time.
"Mate." Cameron whispered.
"What now?" I murmured, still flipping pages,
He leaned closer, his voice low but charged with that classic Cameron chaos. "Mate. Don't look yet. But the girl who just sat down in front of us? Fucking-she looks like she time-travelled from 1870."
I frowned, eyes still on the book.
"She's wearing a yellow gown, bro. A gown. Full sleeves. Wooden buttons and all. It's like... Bridgerton meets Anthropology major."
I fought the urge to look. He's probably exaggerating again.
"And-this is the best part-she's wearing a straw hat. In the middle of the fucking library."
I blinked. A straw hat?
"Like-who is she hiding from, bro? The sun? In Glasgow?"
My eyes finally flicked up.
And fuck.
She was... real.
Head down, completely buried in a thick hardback novel.
And the straw hat?
It was perched right on top of her head, round-brimmed, slightly tilted to one side like she didn't realize it was there, or maybe she did and just didn't give a shit what anyone thought.
She was flipping pages quietly, not glancing around, not even bothering with the weird stares she was definitely getting from two girls at the next table.
Her fingers moved like she was trying not to crinkle the paper. There was something nervous in it. Jittery. Like she wasn't used to being here. Or maybe, like everything was a bit too loud for her.
