The university library hummed with quiet energy that late afternoon. Zara arrived early, clutching her notes and laptop, scanning the rows of tables for a good spot. She spotted Sky already there, sitting alone at a corner table, headphones draped around his neck, brows furrowed in concentration.
Great. Just great.
She squared her shoulders and approached, her heels clicking softly on the polished floor.
"Sky," she said, voice steady but firm.
He looked up slowly, eyes sharp and calculating, but said nothing.
"We need to talk about the presentation," Zara continued, sliding into the seat opposite him without waiting for an invitation. "I'm guessing you haven't started?"
He shook his head once, a subtle motion. "No."
Zara exhaled and leaned forward. "Look, I'm not going to sugarcoat this. If we don't work together, we both fail. I'm here to get this done. No drama."
Sky's lips twitched, as if fighting a smirk. "I don't do drama."
"Good," Zara replied, meeting his gaze. "So. What parts do you want to cover? I was thinking I could handle causes and symptoms, and you could take treatment and prevention."
He nodded slowly, considering her words. "Fine."
An awkward silence settled between them. Then Zara took a deep breath and asked, "Why have you been so cold? You act like I'm your enemy."
Sky's jaw tightened. He glanced up, eyes calm but unreadable. "Everything's fine," he said simply. "No drama."
That answer frustrated her. "That's it? Everything's fine? No explanation? Not even 'I'm busy' or 'I need space'?"
He shook his head slightly. "You don't need to know."
Zara's frustration gave way to a reluctant shrug. "Alright. But if we're going to do this presentation, maybe we should focus on that."
---
From that first meeting, they fell into a rhythm.
Sky wasn't the cold, uncooperative guy she'd imagined.
He was calm, collected, and surprisingly sharp. Intelligent beyond the classroom, he did most of the research, diving into medical journals and articles that even Zara hadn't known existed. He corrected her mistakes tactfully, explaining terms she didn't understand without a hint of condescension.
Zara found herself taking notes rapidly, impressed by his knowledge and dedication.
"It's not just about the grades," Sky said one evening as they worked late in the library. "It's about knowing the stuff. Dyslipidemia affects so many people. This could actually matter."
His passion was unexpected.
---
When presentation day came, they stood side by side in front of the class.
Sky's quiet confidence balanced Zara's lively energy perfectly. Their voices harmonized as they explained causes, symptoms, treatments, and prevention methods. The slides were seamless, the research solid, the teamwork undeniable.
When Mr. Thompson announced their grade, a big A, Zara's face lit up like the sun breaking through clouds.
"Thanks, Sky," she whispered afterward, her smile genuine.
Sky nodded, a small, rare smile tugging at his lips.
The library emptied quickly that afternoon, leaving the faint scent of old books and polished wood. Zara packed her laptop and notes slowly, careful not to bump into Sky, who was still hunched over his papers, silent and meticulous.
"Leaving already?" he asked, without looking up.
Zara paused, considering. "I thought I'd give you some space," she said carefully, sliding her bag over her shoulder. "You know, for your… peace and quiet."
Sky's eyes flicked up briefly, sharp and assessing, then returned to his notes. "Peace and quiet is overrated," he muttered, almost to himself.
Zara bit back a retort. She wasn't sure if he was mocking her or just… existing in his usual stoic bubble. Either way, it was annoying. She shrugged and started walking toward the exit, heels clicking on the floor.
"Hey," he called, his voice low and deliberate. Zara stopped, pretending not to hear him. "You're… not completely terrible at this."
She turned slowly, raising an eyebrow. "Not terrible? Wow, Sky, that's high praise." Her tone was light, teasing but there was a flicker of genuine surprise. He didn't usually give compliments.
Sky's lips twitched, maybe the hint of a smirk, or maybe it was just exhaustion. "Don't read too much into it," he said, turning back to his papers.
Zara clenched her bag strap, half irritated, half curious. "Sure, I'll just… interpret it as you grudgingly acknowledging my existence."
He didn't respond, and she knew better than to push. But as she left the library, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more under his calm, unreadable exterior. Something that wasn't coldness, exactly… maybe just… guarded.
---
In the days that followed, Zara realized something important.
That cold and grumpy guy she thought she knew? He wasn't really him.
Beneath that quiet exterior was someone thoughtful, intelligent, and fiercely committed just in his own way.
And maybe, just maybe, she wanted to understand him better.