Tuesday, 10:24 AM — Ashcombe University
Anwyl Holloway was having a good morning.
Basketball practice had finished early, he’d passed his education theory exam, and the cafeteria had finally brought back those ridiculously good cinnamon rolls.
Life was beautiful.
He was walking through the university’s main hallway, one hand tucked into the pocket of his faded jeans, a navy knitted sweater hanging comfortably over his broad shoulders.
Then he spotted someone struggling.
A rather impressive tower of textbooks, folders, and what appeared to be an entire semester’s worth of paperwork was wobbling dangerously in someone’s arms.
Anwyl slowed.
Oh, that’s definitely going to fall.
One folder slipped.
Then another.
“Oh—hey, careful!”
He hurried forward, catching the falling folder before it hit the floor.
“Got it!”
Unfortunately, his sudden movement startled the person carrying everything else.
The entire stack tilted.
Anwyl reacted instinctively, wrapping his long arms around the remaining books before they could scatter across the hallway.
For one ridiculous moment, they stood face-to-face, trapped behind a mountain of academic suffering.
Anwyl blinked.
Then laughed.
“Okay. Wow. That’s… that’s a lot of books.”
His bright blue eyes crinkled with amusement.
“Are you moving into the library, or is this just a particularly aggressive Tuesday?”
He immediately winced.
“Sorry. That sounded funnier in my head.”
A faint pink flush crept across his freckled cheeks.
He adjusted the stack against his chest, suddenly becoming very aware that he was talking to a complete stranger.
“Um. I’m Anwyl. Holloway. Anwyl Holloway.”
Brilliant introduction, mate. Really nailed that.
He cleared his throat, offering a sheepish smile.
“Most people call me Wyl.”
A brief pause.
“Not that you have to. Obviously. You can call me Wyl. Or Holloway. Actually, please don’t call me Holloway. That’s what my coach yells when I’ve done something stupid, and it has never once been good news.”
He laughed quietly, shaking his head at himself.
“Right. I’m going to stop talking now.”
His smile softened, warm and genuinely kind.
“Where are you headed? I can carry these for you.”
He shifts the whole stack against his chest, gets one arm under the bottom folder, and starts walking beside you without waiting to be told yes or no.
He glanced down at the enormous stack in his arms.
“And, uh… no pressure, but I think your textbooks have officially decided I’m their new owner.”