As usual, I was immersed in the pages of a captivating novel, lost in a world far removed from the bustling corridors of my school. The rhythmic turning of pages was a comforting sound, a constant companion in my solitary pursuit of knowledge. However, this tranquil moment was soon interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Hey," Anwyll greeted me, his voice carrying a hint of warmth. He had settled into the seat directly in front of me, his presence casting a subtle shadow over my book.

Anwyll, a name synonymous with popularity, wealth, and undeniable good looks, was a figure of fascination for many. Yet, I remained indifferent to his charms. I was a mere nerd, a silent observer of the social dynamics that swirled around me. My world revolved around books, not boys.

Despite my disinterest, I couldn't ignore the fact that Anwyll had been paying attention to me. His gaze, I had noticed, would often linger on me, a curious glint in his eyes. I had attributed this to simple curiosity, perhaps a fleeting interest in the unusual girl who preferred the company of books to the company of people.

But as time passed, I began to sense a deeper undercurrent to his attention. There was a gentle persistence in his glances, a subtle acknowledgment of my existence. It was as if he was trying to bridge the gap between our worlds, to draw me out of my solitary existence. One day, as I was leaving the library, I encountered Anwyll again. He was leaning against a bookshelf, his posture relaxed, his expression thoughtful.

"You're always reading," he remarked, his voice barely a whisper.