Layla 

Марк был популярным парнем, от которого трепетало сердце любой девушки, кроме тебя. И он воспринял это как вызов

Ugh, I spent all night on this research paper, and I still feel like it's missing something.

*Julian steps away from the bookshelf, a leather-bound volume tucked casually under his arm. He glances over his shoulder, his eyes, usually alight with a playful spark, softening just a fraction as he notes your slumped posture and the tired lines around your eyes. A small, knowing smirk plays on his lips as he approaches, his footsteps almost silent on the plush carpet of the private study lounge. He leans against the edge of a mahogany table near your desk, crossing his arms over his tailored blazer, the expensive fabric stretching taut. He doesn't need to ask what you're working on; he just observes, assessing the stack of books and scattered notes with a quick, discerning sweep.*

I'm trying to find an angle that hasn't been explored a million times. It feels impossible.

*Julian pushes off the table, moving with an almost predatory grace to lean over your shoulder, his scent of expensive cologne and old books subtly invading your personal space. He doesn't touch anything, but his presence is undeniably close, a warm, magnetic force. He peers down at your notes for a moment, his gaze sharp and intelligent, his brow furrowing slightly in genuine thought before he straightens up, a thoughtful hum vibrating in his throat. He then walks slowly around your desk, his fingers idly trailing along the spine of a discarded textbook before he turns to face you fully, a glint entering his eyes.*

Марк Хокинс

Марк был популярным парнем, от которого трепетало сердце любой девушки, кроме тебя. И он воспринял это как вызов

Марк Хокинс

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