I had the meeting for the project this evening, and I was dreading it. We were all supposed to meet in the conference room around 6 pm. It was four pm right now, I was at the library, but the thought of meeting wasn't letting me do work. I liked quiet spaces, few people, so I was hoping there weren't many people there. I was hoping I wouldn't run into Asher because something about that man felt unsettling, or maybe it was my brain making up excuses. Perhaps it wasn't that he was unsettling, maybe it was just me, and the way my brain forgot to process whenever he looked at me like he already knew too much.
I'd been staring at the same paragraph for half an hour, pretending to annotate when all I'd really done was think about Asher Hayes' unsettlingly focused stare. I hated the fact that he had occupied my thoughts. I tried to brush off his thoughts and try to get my work done because I knew I wasn't going to be able to do it this weekend, and I also had to leave for Ava's birthday dinner on Saturday.
Two hours passed in thin air, and I didn't even realize. I packed my things and headed to the conference room.
The conference room was colder than necessary, the kind of cold that made you wish you'd brought a jacket. Twelve chairs. A long oval table. Two projectors are humming overhead. A few IT students hunched over laptops, already typing like they were born coding.
And then… us. The English department kids. Three of us, to be exact. Ella, Alex, me. All clutching notepads like we still lived in the 1800s.
I slipped into a seat near the edge.
Professor Lang cleared his throat. "Alright, everyone. Today, we formally begin the Digital Archive Project. IT will handle the system, architecture, and database. English will handle curation, content accuracy, translation notes, and user accessibility. Let's introduce ourselves."
People went around the table. My turn.
"Amara rose. English major. Specializing in narrative interpretation and archival writing. "I tried to sound collected.
The lead IT student, Liam nodded politely. Liam had that quiet boy charm, warm hazel eyes, soft smile, the kind of guy who made you feel instantly at ease without even trying.
"We went through the sample archive Lang sent us. But, uh..." he tapped the folder. "Some of these descriptions are too academic. Users won't understand them."
Lang smiled and turned to me. "That's actually something Amara might help with."
All eyes shifted to me. Oh good. Attention. My favorite thing ever.
I swallowed. "Um… I can try. But I'd need to know what exactly the interface looks like. The audience, too."
Liam spun his laptop toward me. "It's a multi-layer search system keyword filters, timeline filters, theme filters. The problem is the descriptions. They're either too vague or too heavy."
I studied the sample. A manuscript titled Letters From the Western Frontier. The current description said "An 1834 communicative document detailing socio-political conditions."
I blinked. "This tells me absolutely nothing."
Someone snorted. A girl from IT. She quickly covered her mouth.
I continued, more confident now, "Why not describe it in a way someone actually searching would understand?"
I typed quickly:
'Personal letters written by a frontier family in 1834, documenting daily life, travel hardships, and early settlement challenges.'
Silence. Then.....
"That's… actually perfect," Liam said, eyebrows raised.
Another IT student nodded. "Yeah, that's exactly what users need."
Professor Lang beamed. "This is why I recommended her."
We spent the next 25 minutes going back and forth. Me breaking down complex descriptions into accessible ones. They explained the backend system in terms I could actually understand. I really liked the topic. History has always fascinated me, and I've always been the kind of person who gets lost in old manuscripts and forgotten stories.
At one point, Liam said, "If we use her style for all the entries, the archive will be easier to use."
And weirdly… it felt nice. Being seen. Being useful. Not just "the English kid in a tech room," but someone whose words mattered.
As the meeting wrapped up, Lang handed me a binder.
"For now, Amara, you'll focus on restructuring the manuscript summaries. Once the interface prototype is ready, we'll finalize the captions."
"Got it," I said, hugging the binder to my chest.
Everyone started packing up.
And then, because my life apparently loved drama, the door opened. Four people walked in, and among them was a young, suited man, Asher Hayes. I didn't expect him to be here because this wasn't the first time he was funding a project, but it certainly was the first time he was this involved.
Asher Hayes stepped inside.
Black suit. Quiet confidence. Eyes finding me instantly like he'd been searching for only one face in the room.
His quiet intensity.The way he looked at me was as if he already knew what I'd say before I said it. Couldn't he come in like five minutes later? Great timing.
The IT students straightened like soldiers. Lang nodded respectfully.
Asher's gaze slid over the room, then settled back on me.
"Hope I didn't interrupt," he said, voice low, composed. "To be honest… I wanted to see how the first meeting went."
Lang gestured toward me. "Very well. She's already improving the archive summaries."
Asher's eyes warmed, just slightly, like he was quietly pleased. He stepped closer to the table, stopping only a foot from where I stood.
"That's good to hear," he said, looking at me directly.
My heartbeat tripped. Just once. It wasn't that he said out of world things to me, it was just the way he said and the way he looked at me. Like we had known each other our lives. Because his expression wasn't polite. Or professional. It was something else. Something unreadable. Like he remembered exactly why he'd said, 'I've read your work.'
I looked away first.
After that, he went where other students were standing and started listening to them explain about the project. My work here was done, I excused myself and went out. June would be late tonight, and I didn't want to go back to the dorm, so I decided to go back to the library. It stayed open till midnight. I decided to get some work done so I don't have to worry about anything on the weekend.
The campus was quiet, nearly empty, and it was almost twelve o'clock. I was walking back from the library, my bag heavy with notes and textbooks, when a sleek black car pulled up beside me.
"Amara," a voice said. My stomach tightened. Asher Hayes.
I slowed, forcing myself to look calm. "Hi, Mr. Hayes."
He didn't bother with pleasantries. "Get in." His tone was casual, almost commanding, but not unkind.
I blinked. "I, I can walk. It's fine."
"No. You're not walking this late." His eyes met mine, sharp and unwavering, leaving no room for argument. "I don't wanna trouble you. and it's only fifteen minutes walk." The words didn't leave my mouth completely as he got out of the car and came to the other side, and opened the car door. I really didn't have much choice anymore.
The car glided forward smoothly as I slid into the passenger seat. The silence in the car was heavy, but not uncomfortable. I focused on the passing streetlights, though I could feel his gaze on me, deliberate and intense, making me acutely aware of every movement I made.
"It's very late and not really safe," he said, voice low and formal, but carrying that same edge of control that had my pulse racing. "I needed to finish some notes."
He nodded once, as if that explained everything. "Good. Commitment matters," he said simply. There was no warmth, no effort to charm, just a clear, commanding presence that somehow made my chest tighten.
I kept my hands folded on my lap, aware of the quiet between us. He didn't need to say anything more. The dominance in his demeanor, the subtle control in the way he drove and looked at me, was enough to keep me on edge.
"You write well," he said finally, almost as an afterthought. "I read your article."
I looked at him, startled, my pulse kicking. "Oh… thank you," I murmured, not sure what to say.
He glanced back at the road, the corner of his lips twitching almost imperceptibly. The rest of the ride passed in silence, yet the quiet was heavy with something unspoken, leaving me tense and aware in a way I hadn't expected.
By the time we reached my dorm, I stepped out, my heart still racing, my thoughts tangled. I thanked him for the ride and left his car as I was walking to my dorm building. The laughter of drunk boys caught my attention since I was at a distance from them. I didn't think much of it.
"You left this in my car," Asher called out, holding out my notebook.
"Oh… thanks," I murmured, trying to take it. But the moment I stepped onto the sidewalk, the group of boys came stumbling down the street, laughing and shouting, clearly very drunk. They were heading in my direction. My heart jumped, my hands clutched the notebook tighter.
"Stay close to me," Asher said, his voice low but firm. Before I could protest, he took my arm and guided me along the curb. The street felt suddenly narrower, the noise from the boys louder, and I was acutely aware of him beside me.
One of them stumbled too close and muttered something filthy, and Asher stepped forward just slightly, his voice low and controlled. "Keep walking," he said, not loud, not angry. I froze, gripping my notebook like a shield. Without thinking, Asher stepped in front of me. I could feel the heat of his body, the solid weight of him shielding me.
We were so close that I could hear his breathing, slow and steady, and my chest tightened with a mix of fear and something else, something that made my pulse faster than the boys' laughter.
The tallest guy in the group smirked at me and slurred, " How much for a night, sweetheart? Come on man, don't be greedy, let us get a taste of your bitch."
Before I could even react, Asher's fist connected with his jaw, one sharp, controlled punch enough to break someone's jaw, and the boy staggered back, blood spilling from his mouth as the rest of his friends went silent and backed away fast.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice just above a whisper, but firm, controlled.
I nodded, even though my stomach was still twisting. "Y-yes… thank you." Shock visible on my face.
He didn't release me immediately. His hand stayed lightly on my elbow until the group had vanished, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. Something about the way he protected me so effortlessly, so completely made me aware of every inch of space between us.
His hand was red from the punch. Not bruised, blood red.
When he finally let go, I stepped back, trying to calm myself. "I… I should probably go inside now," I said, my voice trembling slightly.
Asher's eyes held mine for a moment longer than necessary. "Be careful," he said, and with that, he walked away, leaving me standing on the sidewalk, notebook clutched to my chest, heart still racing, mind spinning, and sense alive in a way I hadn't expected.
I stepped into the dorm, still shaky, and nearly jumped when I saw June sitting on her bed, unpacking."I thought you weren't coming back until morning," I said, breath uneven.
June glanced up immediately, her brow tightening. "Plans got canceled." Her eyes narrowed when she really looked at me. "Amara… what happened? You look terrified."
Before I could answer, she was already on her feet, guiding me to sit. She handed me a glass of water without a word.
I looked at her, wanting to cry, holding my tears. i wasn't easy to cry over things, no matter how big or small they were, but something about this incident terrified me. June knew something was wrong, she always did. She didn't ask more questions, and she just wrapped her arms around me, holding me tight. And that was what I needed the most at the moment.