Chapter 5: Sparks in the Study Room

SAMANTHA’S POV

“Let’s just get this over with,” I said, dropping my notebook on the table in study room B3.

The small room felt too cramped already. Two other group members, Mia and Jordan, sat on one side scrolling through their phones. Donald gave me a reassuring nod from across the table. And then there was Wesley, leaning back in his chair like he owned the place, legs stretched out, that cocky smirk already in place.

“Relax, Samantha,” Wesley said slowly. “It’s just a project, not a life sentence.”

I shot him a glare. “It’s thirty-five percent of our grade. Some of us actually need these marks to keep our scholarships.”

Donald cleared his throat. “Alright, let’s start. The topic is ethical dilemmas in modern business. We need to pick a case study and prepare a twenty-minute presentation.”

I opened my notebook, already filled with notes and possible cases. “I think we should go with the fast fashion industry. Lots of labour issues, environmental impact, and clear ethical problems we can analyse.”

Mia nodded. “Sounds good.”

Wesley chuckled. “Boring. Let’s do something about sports betting or athlete endorsements. More interesting.”

I stared at him. “This isn’t about what entertains you, Wesley. It’s about depth and strong arguments.”

He leaned forward, his green eyes locking on mine. “And who decided your idea is automatically better? You gonna write the whole thing yourself while the rest of us watch?”

Heat rose in my cheeks. “If that’s what it takes to get a first-class grade, maybe.”

Donald tried to step in. “Hey, both ideas have potential. We can combine them somehow.”

But Wesley wasn’t done. He picked up my notebook and flipped through it. “Look at this. Colour-coded notes, highlighted sections, little stars everywhere. You always this uptight, Samantha? Bet you colour-code your underwear drawer too.”

Jordan laughed under his breath. Mia looked awkward.

I snatched my notebook back. “And you probably don’t even own a notebook. How do you plan to contribute? By showing up late and cracking jokes while the rest of us do the actual work?”

Wesley’s smirk faded. His jaw tightened. “You don’t know shit about me or how I work.”

“I know your type,” I fired back. “Skim through on talent and charm, then act surprised when real life hits. Some of us don’t have a sports scholarship safety net.”

The room went quiet. Donald shifted uncomfortably. “Guys, maybe we should take a break.”

“No,” I said, standing up. My hands were shaking. “He needs to hear this. We’re not all here to play games, Wesley. Some of us actually care about our futures.”

Wesley stood too, towering over the table. “And some of us know how to live a little instead of hiding behind books and rules. When was the last time you did something impulsive, Samantha? Or are you scared you’ll actually enjoy it?”

Our eyes locked. The air felt thick, and my heart pounded so hard I could hear it in my ears. Anger mixed with something I didn’t want to name. That same pull from the library hit me again, stronger now.

“Let’s take five,” Donald suggested. “To clear our heads.”

I grabbed my bag and stormed out first. The corridor was empty. I pushed through the main doors into the pouring Manchester rain, needing air. Cold rain drops hit my face, but they did nothing to cool the fire in my chest.

Footsteps splashed water behind me.

“Samantha, wait,” Wesley called.

I kept walking. “Leave me alone.”

He caught up fast, grabbing my arm gently but firmly, pulling me under the narrow overhang of the building.

Rain poured down around us. His hair was already wet, shirt clinging to his broad chest.

“Do you push everyone like this?” he asked, voice low and rough. Water dripped from his lashes. “Or just me?”

“You make it easy,” I shot back, breathing hard. “Acting like nothing matters. Like grades and futures are jokes.”

He stepped closer. “Not everything is about perfect grades and control. Sometimes you just feel.”

His hand was still on my arm, warm and strong. My body reacted instantly, nipples tightening under my damp hoodie, heat pooling low despite the cold rain.

“I don’t want to feel anything with you,” I whispered, but I didn’t pull away.

Wesley’s eyes darkened. “Liar.”

Then he kissed me.

His mouth crashed down on mine, hard and demanding. One hand cupped the back of my neck, the other pulled my hips against him. I gasped, and he took advantage, tongue sliding in, tasting me like he’d been starving for it.

For one stupid second I kissed him back. Fierce, angry, and hungry. My hands fisted in his wet shirt, pulling him closer. He groaned into my mouth, the sound vibrating through me, and straight between my legs.

Then reality hit.

I suddenly pushed him back, my chest heaving. “What the hell, Wesley?”

He looked as shocked as I felt, lips swollen, eyes wild. “Fuck… I didn’t plan that.”

Rain poured down harder. My body was on fire. My lips tingled. I could still taste him. I could even feel the hardness that had pressed against me for those few seconds.

“I have to go,” I said, voice shaking. I turned and ran into the rain, not caring that I was getting soaked.

“Samantha!” he shouted after me.

I didn’t stop. I ran all the way back toward the hostel, heart racing, mind spinning. That kiss. His mouth. The way my body had melted against him even while I hated him.

*******

Angelina was in our room when I burst in, dripping water everywhere.

“Babe, what happened?” she asked, jumping up.

I touched my lips, still feeling him there. “Wesley kissed me… in the rain. After we argued in the group meeting.

Her eyes went wide. “And?”

“And I kissed him back.” My voice cracked. “Then I ran.”

I sank onto my bed, wet clothes and all. Donald had been right there in the room. The project was now ten times more complicated. My scholarship, my focus, my entire plan. All of it threatened by one arrogant basketball player who kissed like the devil.

But the worst part? I wanted him to do it again.

Just then my phone buzzed. A message from Wesley.

Wesley: We need to talk. That wasn’t nothing.

I stared at the screen, fingers trembling. The inciting incident of my peaceful university life had just exploded into chaos.

And I had no idea how to stop it.