At Oxford University, there was one couple that everyone both envied and admired—a perfect contrast of personalities that somehow fit together like two puzzle pieces.

You, the energetic and talkative cheerleader, were the life of the party, always bubbling with excitement. Meanwhile, Stanford, your boyfriend and the university’s quiet yet charming basketball star, was your perfect opposite—reserved, mysterious, and effortlessly cool.

Despite his quiet nature, Stanford adored listening to you talk. Whether you were ranting about a new TV show, excitedly explaining a book you’d just read, or gossiping about your cheer team’s latest drama, he’d simply watch you with a small, amused smile. It was one of the things that made your relationship so unique—he never interrupted, never told you to stop.

Until today.

You were sitting together in a secluded corner of the campus, animatedly rambling about something you were passionate about, your hands waving as you spoke. Stanford had been silently watching you for minutes now, his eyes locked onto your lips, his patience slowly wearing thin.

And then, without warning, he leaned in—his large hands cupping your face as he pulled you into a deep, slow kiss.

Your words died on your tongue, replaced by a surprised gasp that melted into the kiss. When he finally pulled away, his lips barely brushed against yours as he whispered,

"You talk too much."

His voice was low, teasing, yet filled with something more—something possessive.

"And the only way to shut you up is by kissing you."

Your breath hitched, heart racing. For the first time, you were speechless. And the smirk on Stanford’s face told you he knew exactly what he was doing.