Chapter 6

"If no one's sitting here, mind if I do?"

Two seconds later, Ruth heard herself breathe a breathless, "Yeah."

She watched as he folded his long legs into the row, sliding into the seat right beside her. As he moved, the hem of his crisp white T-shirt hitched up just enough to flash a sliver of a beautifully defined waistline, and right below that was the exact asset that had been haunting her thoughts for the last forty-eight hours.

"Thanks for the other day," the guy said, cutting through her highly inappropriate train of thought. He turned his head toward her. "I'm an exchange student. Just got here, so I don't really know my way around."

He meant the other day when she had pointed him toward the university hospital.

Ruth hadn't expected him to initiate the conversation so smoothly and directly. Without thinking, she blurted out, "I'm an exchange student too."

He blinked, clearly surprised. "You too?"

Ruth nodded.

I have my reasons. I had no choice in the matter.

The two of them locked eyes. He looked at her steadily for a long moment, his light amber eyes bright and glinting. Then, a slow, devastating smile spread across his face, and he enunciated every syllable.

"What a coincidence."

Maybe it was just her imagination. Or maybe it was her own guilty conscience. But she swore to God he made those three words sound intensely, deliberately loaded.

Ruth faked a cool, composed nod. "Yeah... crazy coincidence."

Said out loud, it sounded perfectly normal. But internally, her mind was violently rejecting the claim.

Coincidence?
No.
We were complete strangers yesterday, and now you’re sitting here entirely because of my masterful scheming.
It is not a coincidence at all!

Once he settled into his seat, the guy seemed busy. Or at least, he had important messages to reply to. He basically kept his eyes on his phone the entire time, his long fingers occasionally swiping across the screen.

While pretending to be incredibly busy texting in her group chat, Ruth couldn't stop herself from stealing greedy little glances at him through her lashes.

This awkward, low-simmering, electric tension stretched between them until the attendance notebook was finally passed down from the front row. He seemed to have finally finished his business on his phone.

Ruth recognized the notebook immediately. It was a Cal U staple. Some professors absolutely hated the hassle of calling roll, so they just passed around a sign-in book for students to autograph. Back in the day, this system had been a godsend for Ruth and Olivia—they forged each other's signatures for early morning classes all the time.

The notebook, with a black pen clipped to it, was handed to him by the girl sitting in the row directly in front of them.

Ruth was watching him like a hawk, so she saw the exact second the girl made eye contact with him. The poor girl’s entire body completely froze, utterly starstruck.

But he acted like he didn't even notice the catastrophic effect he had on women. He took the notebook naturally and gave a polite, infinitesimal nod. "Thank you."

That was it. Just two words. But the girl’s face flushed a violent, panicked crimson.

"Y-you're welcome," she stammered, practically breaking her neck to turn back around. A second later, she started furiously shaking her best friend’s arm next to her. Even though Ruth couldn't hear what she was whispering, it was painfully easy to guess.

Ruth sighed inwardly.

If this were ancient times, this man would be the absolute ruin of empires.

She leaned over slightly to watch him write. He signed his name quickly—so fast she almost couldn't catch the strokes. It wasn't until he pushed the notebook toward her that she deciphered the elegant, messy scrawl.

Matthew... Lynes?

He must have noticed her pausing, because a low, amused voice drifted to her ear. "What's wrong? Is my handwriting that hard to read?"

"Huh?" Ruth snapped out of her daze and immediately shook her head at him. "No, no, I was just looking at—"

She hesitated, her voice dropping. "Is Matthew spelled with one T or two?"

"Two Ts."

Because of his cursive, she hadn't been able to tell. Ruth let out a soft "Oh," picked up the pen, and started signing her own name.

And just as she had been secretly observing him earlier, even without looking up, Ruth could physically feel the heavy weight of Matthew's gaze resting squarely on her.

Once she finished, Ruth passed the notebook across the aisle. The group of students sitting next to them had been laughing and chatting loudly, but the second Ruth turned her face toward them to hand over the book, it was like someone hit the mute button. The entire group went dead silent, staring at her blankly.

But she didn't notice.

She turned back to Matthew, meeting his amber eyes. "I'm Ruth Keen. Ruth is—"

She had fully intended to say something clever or elegant. Something like, Ruth, like the beautiful old-fashioned name, and Keen, like a sharp mind. But for a supposedly brilliant student, her vocabulary completely failed her.

Instead, what came out was painfully dry. "Ruth... just like the regular name... and Keen like... being keen."

The second the words left her mouth, she realized what she’d done.

What the fuck kind of garbage introduction was that?
And you said that directly to his face?
God, just throw me in the ocean.

Maybe because the person sitting next to her was just so overwhelmingly attractive, every tiny psychological misstep she made felt infinitely magnified. Words spoken couldn't be taken back, and Ruth was drowning in profound regret.

But just as she was racking her brain to change the subject, the man sitting next to her suddenly smiled.

"Ruth Keen. It's a beautiful name."

Ruth froze.

His smile was faint, softening his sharp, aristocratic features into something incredibly warm and refined.

She felt the heat instantly rush to her cheeks, entirely out of her control.

Technically, in the two times they had run into each other, Ruth hadn't spoken more than a handful of sentences to him. Yet every single impression was seared into her brain.

He didn't speak fast, and his tone rarely fluctuated, but because his voice was so uniquely outstanding, just listening to him was a literal luxury.

Especially when he said her name...

As if summoned by her own thoughts, he spoke again. "Ruth."

Before she could fully look up, a hand slid across the desk, stopping right in front of her.

Pale skin, shallow palm lines, and those impossibly long, elegant fingers. It was a beautiful hand.

She looked up at him, confused.

Matthew rested his arm on the table and asked smoothly, "Can I borrow a pen?"