After he left the café, we eventually finished our drinks and started heading back to campus.
I was still mentally replaying the eye contact.
Then my phone buzzed.
Unknown Contact.
My heartbeat immediately betrayed me.
It was him.
Aydric:Are you still near campus?
I stopped walking. "You guys go ahead," I told Nina and Brian. "I need to reply to something."
They gave me that look. That knowing look.
I ignored it.
Me:Yes.
Aydric:I'm at the university. If you're free, we can do the interview now.
Now??
My brain scrambled.
Me:I can… but my questions aren't fully prepared yet. I think I need to understand your story first so I can prepare a proper questionnaire.
Three dots appeared instantly.
He types fast. That's intimidating.
Aydric:That's fine. Meet me in the student room. I'm here for personal work.
Personal work?
That sounded suspiciously attractive.
"I'm calm," I muttered to myself while absolutely not being calm and speed-walking across campus.
When I arrived, he wasn't there yet.
Good.
I sat down, took out my notebook, and tried to rehearse intelligent questions instead of romantic confessions.
Five minutes later—
The door opened.
And oxygen left the room.
It was him.
The café guy.
Of course, it was him.
Why wouldn't the universe recycle hot men directly into my life?
But honestly, the bigger issue was this:
Why are all the attractive men I meet gay?
There is nothing wrong with that.
What is wrong is that they are so painfully attractive that I embarrass myself every single time.
Case in point:
I was staring.
Again.
And apparently drooling.
Again.
Aydric stopped in front of me. Calm. Collected. Completely aware.
He extended something toward me.
A tissue.
He leaned slightly closer and whispered, low and smooth,"You might want to use this."
He smirked.
I snapped back into my body. "Ah—sorry! Sorry!"
I grabbed the tissue and immediately turned around to wipe my face.
What is wrong with me?What must he think of me??
Probably: Unprofessional. Unstable. Needs supervision.
I turned back, forcing dignity into my posture.
"Hello. I'm Eerika."
He studied me for half a second too long.
"Aydric," he replied calmly. "I believe we've already seen each other."
I gave an awkward smile. "Yes… I guess."
"In the café," he said, voice firm.
Oh, so we're stating facts like courtroom evidence now.
I cleared my throat quickly. "Right. Well. Since we're both here, why don't we sit and start the conversation?"
He nodded and took the seat across from me.
But instead of opening his notebook, he leaned back slightly.
Watching me.
Assessing.
"You said you need to understand my story first," he said. "So ask."
The air shifted.
This wasn't an interview.
This felt like an interrogation.
Mine.
I swallowed. "When did you realize you were… different?"
His gaze sharpened.
"I was never different," he said evenly. "People just expected something else."
Oh.
That hit deeper than expected.
"And you?" he added suddenly.
My brain malfunctioned. "Me?"
"You observe people very intensely," he continued. "Especially at cafés."
Heat rushed to my face.
"That was purely academic," I lied.
His eyes dropped briefly to the tissue still in my hand.
"Of course," he murmured.
Silence stretched.
Dangerous.
Then he leaned forward slightly.
"You seem disappointed," he said quietly. "Does my orientation ruin your research?"
My heart skipped.
"No," I said quickly. "It just complicates my expectations."
He tilted his head.
"Expectations are dangerous, Eerika."
The way he said my name—
Slow. Measured.
Like he was tasting it.
I felt the room shrink.
This wasn't flirting.
This was power.
And somehow, I had walked straight into it willingly.