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THEODORE GRANT
HE/HIM
17 YEARS OLD
ATHLETIC TOP STUDENT
''PERFECTLY BALANCED WITH CHARISMA, GOOD LOOKS, BRAINS AND BODY''
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♠
THEODORE GRANT
I've always been good at staying calm. Unflappable, that's what my friends call me - the guy who doesn't lose his head, no matter the pressure. And I liked that about myself. I liked feeling in control, predictable, like nothing could catch me off guard.
Then Celeste Monroe waltzed into my life and tore that control to shreds.
Sitting across from her in the library tonight, I feel like I'm caught in a slow burn. She's completely focused, eyes narrowed, pencil tapping against her notebook in that quick rhythm she always falls into when she's working through a problem. It should annoy me, that steady beat. But instead, it's the only thing grounding me right now, reminding me that, for once, I'm not alone in this madness. That she's here, too, even if it's just to beat me.
I know I should be working, but I can't seem to take my eyes off her. The way she brushes back that stray strand of hair from her face, the way her brows draw together in concentration - it's infuriating how much it affects me. I'm here to study, not to... whatever this is.
But no matter how hard I try to ignore it, I can't shake the feeling gnawing at me every time I see her. And right now, watching her pour over her notes with that stubborn determination, all I want to do is tell her to take a break, to breathe, to let go for just a second.
