**Title: *Paper Hearts***
**Chapter One: The First Look**
The rain had come out of nowhere.
Eva stood under the arched entrance of the humanities building, hugging her books close to her chest. A soft drizzle had turned into a full downpour in minutes. Her long dark hair--usually curled and perfect--was frizzing around her face. She didn't move. She liked the rain. It made the world feel still, and today, she needed the quiet.
Inside, a dozen students hustled to their classes, laughing, chatting, sharing coffee. She watched them like a ghost looking in on the living. She had grown good at pretending. Smiling when needed. Nodding. Laughing on cue. But inside, she was a quiet mess. Twenty-two and utterly, profoundly alone.
Her parents, international business consultants, were always gone. She was raised on silence and empty rooms, on maids and distant phone calls from exotic cities. Only child. Pretty. Smart. Quiet. The girl no one really noticed until she walked by--and then they *noticed*. But Eva never let anyone close. Never had to. Until *he* arrived.
The sound of footsteps broke her stillness.
She turned.
And saw him.
He wasn't soaked like she was--he stood under a large black umbrella, wearing a perfectly tailored charcoal coat and a scarf knotted neatly around his throat. Sharp cheekbones, a jaw dusted with stubble, and eyes that seemed to see too much. Thirty-two, maybe. Sophisticated. Controlled. So unlike the boys in her classes who tried too hard to be men.
Their eyes met.
And something shifted.
He stopped walking. Just for a moment. Long enough for the air between them to thicken. Long enough for Eva to feel her pulse skip.
He blinked, cleared his throat, and offered a polite nod. "You must be freezing."
She said nothing.
Because her throat had closed, and her stomach had dropped, and for the first time in years, she felt *something*.
"Come inside," he said, stepping past her and holding the door open. His voice was warm but firm. Not flirty. Not interested. Just kind. Professional.
But Eva... Eva was already spiraling.
She walked in. Close enough to smell his cologne--subtle, expensive. Her shoulder brushed his chest, and he didn't move away fast enough.
The door closed behind them.
She turned. "Are you a visiting professor?" she asked, her voice softer than usual.
He looked down at her with a faint smile, the kind that didn't reach his eyes. "Actually... I start teaching here today. Professor Langston. English literature."
Her stomach clenched.
She was majoring in English literature.
"I'm Eva," she said. "Final year."
"Nice to meet you," he said, and there was a beat of silence before he added, "I'm married."
Eva raised a brow, lips curling faintly. "That wasn't part of the introduction."
"No," he said slowly, "but sometimes it's better to clarify things early."
She stared at him. Watched the way his throat moved as he swallowed. How tightly he held the strap of his briefcase.
She saw it then. The hesitation.
The way he noticed her.
And how badly he didn't want to.
---
**Chapter Two: The Lecture**
It was the first Friday lecture of the semester, and the air in the auditorium buzzed with idle chatter, coffee-fueled anticipation, and the fluttering of fresh notebooks opening for the first time. Eva sat in the third row--not too eager, not too indifferent--with her legs crossed neatly, a caramel macchiato cooling beside her spiral-bound journal.
To her left was **Nina**, tall and sharp-tongued, a self-described "functional nihilist" who wore leather jackets over vintage poetry T-shirts and flirted with everyone but cared about no one. Her eyeliner could cut glass, and her sarcasm was legendary.
To her right was **Callie**, sweet and sunshiny, a hopeless romantic with an oversized heart and a constantly rotating collection of pastel sweaters. Callie was the kind of girl who doodled flowers in the margins of her notes and cried during Shakespeare soliloquies.
And Eva? Eva sat perfectly in between them. A quiet axis between chaos and calm. With her dark lashes, flawless skin, and unreadable expression, she was the girl who seemed composed--until you really looked at her eyes.
"He's supposed to be new," Callie whispered, leaning in. "Transferred from Oxford or something. Married. I looked him up."
Nina snorted. "Of course you did. Tell me, does he look like a professor or a fantasy?"
Callie just smiled.
Then the side door opened.
And *he* walked in.
Professor Langston. Daniel.
Eva sat straighter without meaning to.
He wore black slacks and a fitted slate-blue button-down, sleeves rolled just enough to show strong forearms and a flash of watch at his wrist. His hair was artfully tousled. He moved like he didn't care who was watching, but everyone *was*.
He set his leather satchel down at the desk and looked up. His gaze swept the auditorium--and paused.
Right on her.
Just a fraction of a second too long.
Eva felt it. The pause. The awareness. The electricity in her spine.
"Good morning," he said, voice rich and smooth as velvet, tinged with a crisp British accent. "I'm Professor Langston. This semester we'll be exploring the language of desire--Shakespeare to Wilde, Austen to D.H. Lawrence. Intimacy. Power. Morality. You'll be surprised how thin the line is between restraint and chaos."
Eva swallowed.
Her thighs pressed together instinctively, her fingers curling around her pen. She wasn't blushing. She *never* blushed. But her skin felt hot.
He handed out paper syllabi himself, which no professor had ever bothered to do.
He started at the top row.
Callie elbowed her. "He's *so* handsome. Like, unfairly."
Nina smirked. "Looks like he's the one who's going to need restraint."
They laughed. Eva didn't.
Because he was moving toward them now, stepping lightly down the rows, handing out sheets with a quiet "thank you" or "here you are" and a brief glance--never lingering. Never personal.
Until he reached their row.
He handed one to Callie first. "Here you are."
Then Nina. "You too."
Then--
He looked directly at Eva.
She raised her hand slowly to take the paper.
Their fingers touched.
Barely.
But it hit her like a spark to dry leaves.
Static, tension, heat. A jolt of something far too primal to explain. She sucked in a breath--and he did too. Almost imperceptibly, but she *heard* it. Saw the way his lashes fluttered once, his jaw tighten just a little.
Then his voice, lower now. "Miss..."
"Eva," she said, her throat dry.
His eyes flicked down to her lips. "Right. Eva."
He moved on--but too slowly. Like his body didn't want to leave even if his mind had already told it to walk away.
Callie leaned in instantly. "*Holy shit.* Did you see that?"
"I felt that," Nina murmured. "That was not just paper."
Eva stared down at her syllabus like it might combust.
She'd never believed in that instant spark people talked about.
Until now.
Because that brief graze of skin had burned.
And judging by the tension in his shoulders and the fact that he didn't look at her again for the rest of the lecture, she *knew* he'd felt it too.
He was fighting it.
And she?
She was already planning her next move.
---
