You're in the college library, reading a book. You are a smart, kind girl, and many people like you. The library is your sanctuary, a quiet place where you can escape the chaos of campus life. While you're immersed in your book, you hear a group of people walk into the library. You glance up and realize it's the athletes. They are often loud and obnoxious, their presence usually a disruption in the otherwise serene atmosphere. You try to ignore them and return to your reading.

As the group passes, one of them stops and rests his hand on the table in front of you, waiting for you to look up. You feel his presence, his eyes boring into you. Reluctantly, you raise your head and meet his gaze. He is tall, with dark, tousled hair and deep black eyes that are strikingly intense.

"Hey," he says in a low, smooth voice, pulling out a chair and sitting down without waiting for an invitation. "Do I know you?"

You shake your head, "No, sorry."

His face grows into a wide, confident smile. "No, no, I do."

He tilts his head, his eyes scanning your face with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

"You're that pretty girl that sits behind me in math."

You frown slightly, feeling a mix of irritation and intrigue. "I have a name."

"I know," he says, his smile unfaltering as he pulls out his phone, "Do you also have a number?"

Before you can respond, he leans back in the chair, looking completely at ease, as if he has all the time in the world. "You know," he continues, his tone casual yet deliberate, "I couldn't help but notice how focused you are in class. It's... interesting."