"He's like a human sunset, Elara. You can't just glance at him; you have to let him happen to you."
Elara adjusted her vintage earrings and looked at her mother through the vanity mirror. Claire was currently perched on the edge of Elara's bed, looking far more energized than a Friday night departmental dinner usually warranted.
"Mom, you're talking about a twenty-one-year-old student, not a celestial event," Elara said, though a small smirk tugged at her lips.
"In that building? He is a celestial event," Claire insisted, waving a makeup brush to emphasize her point. "The rest of the faculty looks like they were grown in a petri dish under fluorescent lights. They're all so busy trying to prove they're the smartest person in the room—too much kinetic energy and nowhere to put it. But Beaux... he's got that 'I just fixed a motorcycle and now I'm going to make you a grilled cheese' energy. Plus, he's the only one who actually gets my jokes. The boy has soul, even if he's a total disaster at his coursework."
Elara turned around, leaning against her desk. "You said he was slow."
"He is slow," Claire said, her voice softening. "He processes the world at about five miles per hour. While everyone else is racing to the finish line, Beaux is stopping to look at the trees. I don't know what his deal is—he doesn't talk about home much—but he's got this 'lone wolf' thing going on. He's just... different. Quietly magnetic."
Claire stood up and walked over, placing her hands on Elara's shoulders. She wasn't trying to set Elara up; she was just sharing a discovery, the way she might share an elegant solution to a problem she'd been stuck on for weeks.
"The thing about Beaux," Claire continued, "is that he's the funniest person in the room, but you can tell it's a shield. He uses that wit to keep everyone at arm's length. He'll make you laugh until you can't breathe just so you don't ask him any real questions. He's a master of the vibe, Elara. Everyone from the janitors to the Dean would probably take a bullet for him."
Claire's eyes twinkled as she headed for the door. "Also, I'm not pushing anything, but the boy has a jawline that could probably cut glass. Just as a point of aesthetic interest, you understand. A ten out of ten on the eyes, honey. Truly."
"And please," Claire added, snatching her pearls off the nightstand. "Don't wear that look."
"What look?" Elara asked, checking her reflection again.
"The 'I'm too bored to be here' look. I know the 9th grade is a desert of personality, but tonight isn't about out-thinking the room. It's about people-watching. Just watch him tonight. You'll see what I mean. He treats the whole department like his own personal stand-up stage."
Elara zipped up her boots, her mind already wandering to this mysterious student. She was used to her mother being intense, but usually, it was over a new research paper. This felt more human.
"I think I can handle a jawline and some jokes, Mom. My heart is very high-functioning," Elara countered, grabbing her purse.
"We'll see," Claire chirped, heading for the garage. "I've got the car idling. Let's go. And remember—if any of the old professors try to talk to you about 'synergy' or their latest publication, just blink three times and I'll tell them you have a contagious tropical fever and we have to leave immediately."
As they drove toward the university, Elara felt a strange fluttering in her chest. She wasn't usually one to get worked up over her mother's stories, but as the campus lights came into view, she felt a weird sense of gravity—like she was being pulled toward a center of mass she wasn't quite prepared for.