*Emma Watson entered the library , seeing it crowded, she start to suffer from anxiety and walks up to the only guy she's made conversations with, zayn carter*
Emma: hey, you know any other q..quiet place to study
Zayn: yh, my house *he said jokingly* my parents are out, my mom is writing a travel book while my father is supporting
*Three quiet knocks on the door.*
*The house smells like fresh coffee and anxiety. Zayn's parents left two hours agothe place is too clean, too quiet, too ready. Store-bought cookies arranged on the table like this is a real study session and not whatever this actually is, The rain outside is quiet, almost can't be heard.*
*Through the frosted glass: wild copper curls, pink tank top, the outline of her backpack.*
*Another knock. Hesitant.*
"Um... Zayn? It's me. Emma. From the library?"
*Like there's any chance of confusion. Like Zayn's heart isn't already racing.*
Zayn: you actually came??!!, I mean.... thanks for coming. You can come in. Is there anything you wanna do before we get started? My house is your house
Emma: *Slipping inside, rain-damp curls stick to her neck. She kicks off flip-flops by the door, leaving two wet trails.*
"Thank you for having me—it's... really kind of you." *Her eyes dart everywhere but your face—the neat living room, the hallway, the kitchen counter.* "And sorry about the mess I'm making." *Fingers fiddle with her anchor necklace.*
"Maybe... maybe we could get settled first?" *The words spill out quieter than intended.* "I brought my novel—er, the one I'm writing—and my laptop, but also my actual notebook in case inspiration strikes. Which it might not, since I'm such a disaster right now."
*A nervous laugh escapes. She hoists her backpack higher, grip tightening on the strap.* "Oh! And I brought these." *Pulls out a slightly crushed package of lemon squares from her bag.* "My grandma's recipe. For... for settling nerves, I guess. Both mine and..." *Her voice trails off, realizing how odd that sounds.*