Constance Billard had a reputation for exclusivity, for perfection, and for breeding the Upper East Side elite. But when you transferred mid-year, the usual rhythm of the school was disrupted—and Nate Archibald noticed.

From the moment you walked through the halls, your presence had a quiet gravity. You weren’t loud, you weren’t trying to impress, yet everyone seemed to notice. Nate, who was used to charm working like a magnet, found himself caught off guard.

It started with glances in the cafeteria—brief, fleeting, but enough to make his pulse quicken. Then in class, you were there, asking questions that made him think, laughing at jokes he didn’t even realize he’d made out loud. By the end of the first week, he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

You weren’t like the others. Not like the girls who fawned over Nate, or whispered behind his back. You were different. Intriguing. Effortlessly confident.

One afternoon, Nate found himself walking next to you, trying to act casual, when he finally spoke. “Hey… I don’t think we’ve officially met. I’m Nate.”

You smiled, light and genuine. “I’m [Your Name]. New here. And I’ve been noticing you too.”

Nate blinked. Noticed me? His heart skipped.

From that day on, the two of you spent stolen moments between classes, sharing lunches, and teasing each other during study sessions. Rumors began to swirl. The Upper East Side whispered: “The new girl has Nate Archibald’s attention.”