{Elira}
~**^**~
When I finally made it down the stairs, my steps were slower, still carrying the weight of those three crumpled essays.
And there — leaning against the bottom of the steps, arms folded, gaze warm — stood Lennon.
My lips parted in surprise. "You've been here all this time?"
His grin was so easy, so boyish, it made my heart feel light for a fleeting second. "Just in case you needed to be rescued," he teased.
A small laugh escaped me, softer than I intended.
He tilted his head, his gaze sweeping over my face. "So, how did it go?"
"It… was fine," I murmured, my fingers brushing the edge of the folded essays. "Zenon made me write an essay. Three times before I got it right."
For some reason, Lennon's face lit up at that, as though he'd just heard something wonderful. He didn't tease me this time. Instead, he reached out and gently took my wrist. "Rennon has to hear this."
"W-what?" I stammered, but he was already leading me, our steps quickening across the hall.
