The late morning sun poured over the campus, casting long shadows along the neatly paved walkways. Jasmine Alvarez adjusted the strap of her worn leather backpack and picked up her pace, glancing at the time on her phone. She had just finished her first class and was heading toward the library to finish some research for her economics project. With her shift at the café waiting later, she needed to be efficient, organized, and, as always, completely self-reliant.
The library wasn't far, but it was crowded with students seeking quiet corners, laptops balanced on laps, and textbooks stacked in precarious towers. Jasmine ducked inside, mentally mapping the rows of shelves. Her usual spot—near the large window overlooking the campus garden—wasn't free. Sighing softly, she set her backpack down and began scanning for another table.
And that's when it happened.
A collision.
Someone rounded the corner just as she was stepping into an aisle, and her notebook tumbled from her hands, pages scattering like startled birds across the polished floor. She bent instinctively, gathering them, cheeks heating in embarrassment.
"I—I'm so sorry," a calm, slightly amused voice said.
Jasmine looked up and froze.
Andrew Smith.
Of course. Of all days, of all places. He was standing there, leaning slightly forward, one hand brushing a page from the floor, the other holding his own backpack. His brow was furrowed in concern—or was it curiosity?—and that same effortless charm she had noticed from afar made her feel suddenly self-conscious.
"It's… it's fine," she stammered, gathering the last of her papers. "I should've been paying more attention."
Andrew smiled, a small, easy smile that made her chest tighten. "No worries. These things happen." He gestured to the scattered pages. "Looks like you have your hands full."
Jasmine bit her lip, hesitating. "Yeah… just… a lot to catch up on." She stuffed the papers back into her notebook, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up her neck.
Andrew crouched slightly to help her with a particularly stubborn page that refused to stay in place. Their hands brushed, and for a second, the world seemed to narrow until it was just the two of them in that tiny aisle. Jasmine's heart raced, and she tried to maintain a casual demeanor.
"Thanks," she muttered, hoping her voice sounded normal.
"No problem," Andrew said, standing back up. He tilted his head slightly, studying her with a hint of curiosity. "I don't think I've seen you around here before. You're… new?"
Jasmine blinked, caught off guard by the question. She wasn't entirely new—she had been attending this university for over a year—but he hadn't noticed her before, so in some sense, he was right.
"I've been here… a while," she said cautiously, choosing her words. "I just… tend to stick to my own schedule."
Andrew nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I can relate to that. Sometimes, it's nice to just… focus on what matters."
There was something genuine in his tone, something that made her want to lean in, to explain herself, to let him see the effort she put into balancing school and work. But she didn't. She rarely let anyone in beyond the surface. Trust was a luxury she couldn't afford, and with someone like him… well, it was even more complicated.
"I should get to my table," Jasmine said, stepping back slightly. "Places to be, deadlines to meet."
"Right," Andrew said, chuckling softly. "Deadlines. They don't let you off easy, do they?"
Jasmine smiled faintly, a small crack in her otherwise composed facade. "Nope. Never."
There was a moment of silence, not awkward, but charged. Something unspoken hovered between them, a fleeting connection that neither fully understood yet. Andrew glanced at the scattered textbooks, then back at her, and for a brief moment, his eyes softened.
"I hope you don't mind me saying," he began cautiously, "but you handle yourself… well. You don't seem like someone who gets flustered easily, even when things go wrong."
Jasmine blinked. The compliment caught her off guard. Most people didn't notice the effort behind her composed exterior. Most people saw her as quiet, maybe unremarkable, and she had learned long ago not to expect recognition.
"Thank you," she said softly, looking down at her notebook. "I guess… I just… try to keep moving. Life doesn't really wait."
Andrew nodded, as if he understood exactly what she meant. He hesitated, then added, almost as an afterthought, "I like that. It's… refreshing."
Her heart skipped a beat. Refreshing. Not flattering, not polite, not the kind of empty praise she was used to from acquaintances or strangers. Genuine. She wanted to say something in response, but words failed her.
Just then, a familiar voice called from behind Andrew.
"Andrew! Hey, man!"
Jackson Hewitt appeared, leaning casually against a bookshelf, Travis Fernandez trailing behind. Their presence broke the delicate bubble of intimacy between her and Andrew, and Jasmine stepped back, adjusting her backpack.
Andrew straightened, offering a quick smile to his friends. "Hey, guys. What's up?"
Jackson grinned. "Just checking in on you. We were heading to the cafeteria before class."
Andrew glanced at Jasmine, then back at Jackson and Travis, his expression thoughtful for a moment. "I'll catch up with you guys in a bit. Just helping someone here."
Jasmine felt her stomach twist with nervous energy. "I… I'm fine now, really. You don't have to—"
"No, it's okay," Andrew said firmly, but with a gentle warmth. "I wanted to make sure everything was okay."
There was something in his tone—protective, considerate, yet casual—that made her pulse quicken. She nodded, murmuring a quiet, "Thank you."
Andrew smiled again, then turned to his friends. "See you guys later."
Jackson and Travis gave him teasing looks but didn't comment further, letting him step back toward Jasmine.
"Your table's free, right?" Andrew asked, gesturing toward the empty spot by the window. "You can sit there. I'll… just be on my way."
Jasmine hesitated, then, surprising herself, said, "Actually… you can sit. If you want."
Andrew blinked, slightly surprised. "Me?"
"Yes," she said, a small, tentative smile forming. "You can. It's… not a problem."
He nodded, moving toward the table. They settled in an easy silence for a few moments, the sounds of flipping pages and distant whispers surrounding them.
Neither spoke immediately, but the atmosphere felt oddly comfortable, intimate even, as if the library had shrunk to just this table, just this moment.
Finally, Andrew leaned back slightly in his chair. "So… what are you working on?"
Jasmine glanced at her notebook, showing the graphs and notes she had been compiling for her project. "Economics project," she said simply. "Just… trying to figure out trends, analyze data, make sense of the numbers. You know—fun stuff."
Andrew raised an eyebrow, feigning interest. "Fun stuff, huh?"
She rolled her eyes. "Very funny."
A small laugh escaped him, low and easy, and her heart fluttered unexpectedly. "I'm serious," she said. "It's tedious, but necessary. I'm used to it."
Andrew nodded thoughtfully. "I get that. I'm used to… things being expected of me, too. Sometimes the tedious parts make the accomplishments worthwhile, though."
There was a pause, and for a moment, they both just looked at each other. Something unspoken hovered in the air. A mutual recognition, a small curiosity, a connection that neither fully understood but couldn't ignore.
Then Andrew glanced at his watch. "I should probably catch up with my friends. But… it was nice. Talking. Helping out. Even if it was just picking up some scattered papers."
Jasmine smiled faintly, her cheeks warming. "It was… nice," she admitted.
He stood, brushing off his pants. "Maybe I'll see you around?" he said casually, though there was a hint of something more in his tone.
"Maybe," she replied, trying to sound nonchalant, even as her heart thudded in her chest.
Andrew gave her a final smile before walking toward the door. Jasmine watched him go, a strange mix of exhilaration and panic curling in her stomach. She couldn't believe what had just happened.
A total stranger—someone so far out of her world—had spoken to her. Had smiled at her. Had even noticed her. And yet, she reminded herself sternly as she gathered her things: it didn't mean anything. He had his life, she had hers. And yet… she couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed.
For the first time that day, Jasmine allowed herself a small, private thought: maybe… just maybe, the world had more in store than survival, more than deadlines and part-time jobs and the endless balancing act of independence. Maybe there was a possibility she hadn't yet imagined.