The campus was already alive when Eleanor stepped out of the girls' hostel that morning.
Groups of students crossed the wide walkways in clusters, laughing, arguing, checking phones, dragging coffee cups along with them. Luxury cars rolled slowly past the parking lots, their polished bodies reflecting the early sunlight. Some students walked like they owned the ground beneath their feet; others moved with quiet purpose, shoulders squared, eyes forward.
Eleanor adjusted the strap of her bag and took it all in.
This place was nothing like her former school.
Here, wealth didn't whisper, it announced itself.
Designer shoes. Expensive watches. Phones that cost more than her entire monthly allowance. Yet beneath it all was the same thing she'd seen everywhere else: ambition, insecurity, competition.
She walked toward the main academic building, scanning her schedule again. Her first lecture was Advanced Economics, a class rumored to be brutal and dominated by elite students who had private tutors before they ever stepped on campus.
Perfect.
Inside the lecture hall, the air buzzed with low conversation. Eleanor chose a seat halfway up the tiered rows and sat down, notebook already open. Around her, students greeted each other like old allies.
"Did you hear? Xander's back this semester."
"I thought he got suspended."
"Not suspended. Just… Xander problems."
She didn't look up immediately, but the name stuck.
Xander.
The professor entered, silencing the room, and the lecture began. Eleanor focused, taking notes quickly, absorbing everything. She felt eyes on her more than once, curious glances, quiet assessments. New students always drew attention, especially ones who didn't look intimidated by the environment.
When the lecture ended, the hall erupted into noise again.
As Eleanor packed her things, the doors at the back opened.
The shift in atmosphere was instant.
Conversations paused. Heads turned.
She looked up without thinking.
He walked in like he had all the time in the world.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dressed casually, but the kind of casual that still screamed money. His dark hair was slightly messy, like he hadn't bothered to tame it. One hand was in his pocket, the other holding his phone as he scanned the room with bored disinterest.
This was not the kind of entrance someone made accidentally.
Whispers spread fast.
"That's him."
"Xander Hale."
"So he really came today."
Eleanor watched him take a seat near the back, stretching his legs out, leaning into the chair like the lecture didn't concern him at all. The professor's eyes flicked toward him briefly but said nothing, continuing as if this was expected.
So this was the problem student.
She didn't stare. She went back to packing her bag.
Outside, the hallway was crowded. Eleanor stepped aside to let a group of students pass when she felt a sudden impact, someone colliding with her shoulder.
Her books slipped from her hands.
Before she could react, a hand reached down and picked one up.
"Careful."
The voice was low. Lazy. Annoyingly calm.
She looked up.
Xander.
He handed her the book, his eyes briefly scanning the title, then her face. Something unreadable passed through his expression, interest, maybe, or mild surprise.
"Thanks," she said, taking it from him.
He didn't move away immediately.
"You're new."
It wasn't a question.
"Yes."
"Thought so." His lips curved slightly. "You actually pay attention in class."
She raised an eyebrow. "Is that unusual here?"
"For some people." His gaze flicked back toward the lecture hall. "Very."
They stood there for a moment longer than necessary before a group of students approached him, greeting him loudly. He stepped back, already turning away.
"See you around, new girl."
Eleanor watched him go, then shook her head lightly and continued down the hall.
Her next stop was the administration office.
Inside, the air smelled like paper and air-conditioning. A woman behind the desk smiled politely as Eleanor approached.
" Eleanor Whitmore, right?"
"Yes."
"We've finalized your academic placement." The woman flipped through a file. "You've been assigned to the peer academic assistance program."
Eleanor stiffened slightly. "Assigned?"
"It's mandatory for scholarship transfers. You'll be tutoring one student this semester."
Tutoring. That was fine.
"Who?"
The woman slid the file across the desk.
Eleanor read the name.
Xander Hale.
She looked up slowly. "There has to be a mistake."
"There isn't." The woman sighed. "His grades are… inconsistent. You came highly recommended."
Eleanor stared at the file again.
So the reckless, bored-looking guy from the lecture hall was the same one she was supposed to help academically.
Interesting.
Outside, across campus, Xander sat on the hood of his superbike, helmet resting beside him. His friends lounged nearby, laughing about something on a phone screen.
"You heard about your new tutor yet?" one of them asked.
Xander smirked. "Yeah."
"The transfer girl?"
He nodded, eyes drifting toward the academic building.
"Looks like this semester just got less boring."