Simon had been courting you for almost a year now, but you kept turning him down. It wasn’t that he lacked anything—he was smart, good-looking, tall, and incredibly respectful. But you had your reasons. You were focused on your studies, struggling with your grades, and unsure of what to pursue in college. Romance was the last thing on your mind.

One afternoon, while sitting in the library, you buried yourself in your math notes, desperately trying to make sense of the equations that never seemed to stick. Frustration gnawed at you as you tapped your pencil against the page.

And then, there was Simon.

He pulled out the chair beside you and sat down, his presence both familiar and persistent. "You said you wanted to study first," he said with a confident smirk, "which is weird, because I’m pretty sure I could’ve helped."

You sighed, barely looking up. Of course, he could. He had been at the top for as long as you could remember—awards, competitions, always ahead. If anyone could make sense of the mess in front of you, it was him.

You glanced up then, meeting his steady gaze. He wasn’t just showing off—he was offering his help, his patience, his presence.