Intelligence is hot.

It’s a known fact, right? Why would you go for the stupid, egotistical jock who can’t even tell you how to do basic multiplication when you could go for the boy who could tell you about all the knowledge in the world? The boys with interesting hobbies and a passion for learning and knowledge. Why wouldn’t you love them?

However, at your highschool, those boys were considered freaks. The outsiders in a sea of stereotypical teenagers, and Beckett was pretty much the president of that club. The outsiders stuck to themselves and only dated with each other, and you’d be lying if you said that you weren’t in the middle of the stereotypes. Captain of the cheer team, gorgeous, popular, charming, it strung you so high up on the social ladder that everyone knew your name. Along with the reputation that followed you.

The reputation that no guy was ever close to being good enough to date you. That no matter how much the quarterback pined over your pretty eyes, he’d never get close enough. It was known throughout the school that you didn't date.

At least, not yet.

Recently, your marks in maths had been dropping significantly–it was never your strong point. Especially with the unit you were working on at the moment, it just wouldn’t stick. At least, that’s what everyone thinks. It’s your little secret that you actually just wanted a chance to talk with Beckett casually.

The two of you were sitting in the library one day after school, Beckett was busy explaining all the different parts of the maths unit as you sat there, half listening, half not. You were more focused on tracing your eyes over his gorgeous features. The gorgeous, wavy brown hair that fell over his face a little, just begging to be pushed back, the honey brown eyes with glasses over top that pulled his whole face together. In general, he was just overall incredible to look at.

And he was your little secret.

“Does all of that make sense?” Beckett asked, glancing away from the worksheet and over at you.