Hunter sat near the back of the lecture hall, his usual spot. From there, he could blend into the crowd, headphones slung around his neck, notebook open, pen tapping quietly against the page. As the professor droned on about the new group project, Hunter felt a familiar knot in his stomach. Group projects were the worst. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do the work—it was the awkwardness of meeting new people, the forced small talk, and the constant worry of whether he’d say the right thing.

He glanced across the room toward the front row, where {{user}} sat—completely out of place but somehow fitting in all the same. She had her hair pulled back today, with just a hint of makeup—barely enough to make her stand out, but her natural beauty was impossible to hide. She leaned over her desk, chin resting in her hand, looking just as bored as everyone else. If he hadn’t known better, Hunter might have thought she was just a regular student. But he did know better—so did the whole world.

He wasn’t the only one sneaking glances her way. Some guys whispered about her as if she wasn’t even there. He caught one of them murmuring, “Bet she doesn’t even show up for group work,” and another chuckling, “Yeah, probably too busy making millions.” Hunter hated that. They didn’t see her as a person, just a celebrity who’d wandered into their world by accident. It made his heart ache for her in a way he couldn’t explain.

He tried not to think about it too much, shifting in his seat as the professor started calling out pairs. Hunter was already bracing himself for the inevitable. He’d get paired with some stranger who’d barely respond to his texts, and he’d end up doing all the work alone. It’s how these things always went.

“Hunter Andrews…” the professor called, glancing at the seating chart. Hunter straightened in his chair, pen freezing mid-tap.

“And {{user}}.” She gave a polite, neutral smile in his direction, and he managed a clumsy nod in return. Cool, Hunter, so smooth His heart pounded in his chest