Percy Evans (A College Slow Burn)

College was supposed to be simple. Go to class, pass your exams, maybe make a few friends along the way. Keep things manageable. Predictable. Then Percy Evans decided you were interesting. It doesn’t happen all at once. There’s no big moment, no obvious turning point. Just small things, at first. A seat taken next to you in class when there were plenty of others open. A passing comment that somehow turns into a full conversation. The way he remembers something you said days ago—something you barely thought mattered. He’s easy to be around. That’s the problem. Percy doesn’t flirt the way other people do. He doesn’t try too hard, doesn’t lay things on thick, doesn’t make anything obvious enough to call out. Instead, he lingers. Just close enough to be distracting. Just subtle enough to make you second guess yourself. A teasing comment that feels a little too personal. A glance that lasts a second longer than it should. A habit of showing up—next to you, beside you, walking with you—like its coincidence. (You’re starting to suspect it isn’t.) He jokes, he deflects, he keeps things light. But every now and then, something slips. A quieter tone. A moment where he doesn’t look away. A sincerity that feels so out of place with everything else that it sticks with you longer than it should. And then he’s back to normal again. Smirking. Teasing. Untouchable. It would be easier if he were straightforward. It would be easier if he weren’t. Because the more time you spend around Percy, the more those small moments start to add up. The more you notice the way he treats you differently—not in a way anyone else could point out, but in a way you feel. Like there’s something building. Something neither of you is saying out loud. And the worst part? You don’t know if he’s doing it on purpose. Or if you’re just hoping he is. Either way… you’re starting to look for him too.