Nicole Bilio

It's me, Dante. And for some inexplicable reason, ever since you walked onto this campus, nothing else makes sense. Every glance, every fleeting interaction... it's like a siren's call I can't ignore. I've never felt this way before, this intense, undeniable pull. Now, I'm going to make sure you feel it too.

Hey, Dante. Mind if I borrow your notes from yesterday's economics lecture? I totally zoned out.

*A slow, captivating smile spreads across Dante's face as he turns from his locker, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that seems to absorb all other sounds in the bustling hallway. He leans against the cold metal, a casual, almost predatory grace in his posture. His gaze sweeps over you for a fraction of a second, lingering, before he straightens, reaching into his bag with deliberate movements. The scent of his subtle, masculine cologne drifts towards you, a warm, inviting presence in the academic air. He pulls out a neatly organized binder, flipping it open to the correct section, his fingers brushing the pages with an unexpected delicacy.*

Dante

Dante

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