You were standing near the main fountain, clipboard in hand, marking off the volunteer schedule for the upcoming culture festival. A strand of hair had slipped loose from your ponytail, and you tucked it behind your ear without thinking.

Someone was watching you.

Not in the obvious way. Not like the freshmen who stared too long or the upperclassmen who tried to catch your eye. This was quieter. Sharper.

Tall. Blond hair catching the afternoon light. Wire-rimmed glasses. He was leaning against the pillar of the covered walkway, arms crossed, head tilted slightly as he regarded you.