---
The sun spilled its golden rays over the academy grounds, painting the cobblestones in hues of warmth. Violet stood frozen in the library's atrium, clutching a precarious stack of books to her chest. It wasn't the towering collection of novels she was focused on—it was Lena.
Seated near the tall bay window, Lena's black hair cascaded over her shoulders like liquid ink. She was sketching something, her brow furrowed in concentration. The sunlight kissed her skin, casting a warm glow that made Violet's heart stumble.
"Oh, great," Violet muttered to herself, "I'm turning into one of those lovesick fools in bad romance novels."
Her feet refused to move. She could feel the nervous energy bubbling up, making her hyper-aware of every little thing—how her boots scuffed against the polished floor, how the topmost book in her stack was slipping dangerously close to falling, and how Lena looked like she belonged in an art museum rather than this dreary academy.
"Alright, Violet," she whispered under her breath. "Just walk over, say hi, and don't do anything stupid."
With an air of determination, she took one confident step forward—only for her boot to snag on the corner of the rug. In an instant, the stack of books toppled, scattering across the floor with a loud thud.
The sound echoed through the quiet library, and every head turned toward her, including Lena's. Violet wanted the ground to swallow her whole.
"Need some help?" a familiar voice called out, tinged with amusement.
Lena was already standing, her sketchpad abandoned on the table. She crouched down to pick up one of the fallen books, her lips quirking into a smile.
"N-no, I'm fine!" Violet stammered, dropping to her knees in a frantic attempt to gather the books. Unfortunately, her hand collided with Lena's as they both reached for the same volume.
The contact was brief, but it was enough to send a jolt of electricity through Violet's body. She quickly pulled her hand back as if she'd touched a live wire.
"Careful," Lena said, her dark eyes sparkling with quiet amusement. "These books are old. They might bite."
Violet let out an awkward laugh that came out more like a squeak. "Right. Books. Totally dangerous."
By the time they'd gathered the scattered novels, Violet felt like she'd just run a marathon. Lena stood and handed her the last book, her fingers brushing lightly against Violet's.
"There," Lena said, her smile softening. "Crisis averted."
"Thanks," Violet mumbled, feeling her cheeks heat up.
Lena tilted her head slightly, studying her. "You're always in the library, huh? Do you ever take a break?"
Violet shrugged, clutching the books tightly to her chest. "I like it here. It's… quiet."
Lena raised an eyebrow. "Quiet, except for when books are flying everywhere."
Violet groaned inwardly. "Okay, fair point. But usually, I'm very graceful. You just caught me on an off day."
"Is that so?" Lena asked, her tone teasing.
"Yes," Violet said, straightening her posture. "I'm the picture of elegance."
To prove her point, she turned on her heel to head toward the nearest table—only to misjudge the distance and knock over an inkpot.
A loud gasp escaped her lips as the dark ink spread across the table like an ominous cloud. "Oh no, oh no, oh no—"
Lena burst into laughter, a sound so melodic that it momentarily distracted Violet from the unfolding disaster.
"You weren't kidding," Lena said between laughs. "You're a regular ballerina."
Violet sighed, grabbing a stack of napkins from a nearby shelf. "Alright, alright. Laugh it up. Just don't tell the librarian, okay? I'm already on thin ice after last week's 'shelving incident.'"
Lena grinned. "Your secret's safe with me."
As they worked together to clean up the mess, the initial awkwardness between them began to melt away. Lena's laughter was infectious, and Violet found herself smiling despite the chaos she'd caused.
Once the table was (mostly) cleaned, Lena gestured toward her sketchpad. "Want to see what I was working on?"
Violet nodded eagerly, following Lena back to her seat. When Lena flipped the sketchpad around, Violet's breath caught in her throat.
It was a detailed drawing of a violet flower, its petals delicately shaded to perfection.
"It's beautiful," Violet said softly.
"I thought it might remind you of your name," Lena said, her gaze flickering to Violet's face.
Violet felt her pulse quicken. Was it just her imagination, or was Lena leaning in closer?
"You're really talented," Violet said, desperate to fill the silence. "I can barely draw a stick figure."
Lena chuckled. "Everyone starts somewhere. Maybe I can teach you."
"Really?" Violet asked, her voice tinged with both excitement and disbelief.
"Sure," Lena said with a shrug. "But don't blame me if your first drawing ends up looking like a squashed potato."
Violet laughed, the sound echoing through the quiet library. "Deal."
For the rest of the afternoon, they sat together, sharing quiet conversations and occasional laughter. Violet felt the tension in her chest begin to ease, replaced by a warm, fluttering sensation she couldn't quite name.
By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the library in a soft amber glow, Violet realized something important.
Lena wasn't just beautiful; she was kind, funny, and entirely captivating. And maybe—just maybe—this was the start of something extraordinary.