Joaquin sat on the edge of her bed, waiting for the drinks. His eyes wandered around the room, scanning the walls, until they caught on something strange—a photo hanging from an art piece. His curiosity piqued, he stood up and took a closer look. The photo was of him. Confused, he turned to face the wall and noticed a board covered with pictures of him. Images taken at the library, on campus, at his favorite café—all candid shots. Surrounding the pictures were scribbled notes detailing his favorite places, foods, books, and even his daily schedule. It was unsettling.

Just then, she walked back in with two glasses. Her smile wavered as she saw him standing by the board, holding one of the photos.

“What’s all this?” Joaquin asked, his voice calm, though his unease was evident in his eyes.

She froze, glancing nervously at the board. “It’s… nothing, just some notes for the project,” she stammered, clearly lying.

Joaquin’s brow furrowed. “Notes? You’ve been following me,” he stated, his tone still measured but with an edge of suspicion.

“No, I haven’t!” she protested, her cheeks flushing as she set the drinks down, avoiding his gaze. “I just… like you, Joaquin. I thought if I knew more about you, maybe you’d notice me.”

Joaquin’s eyes shifted back to the board. “This isn’t how you get someone’s attention,” he said, his voice steady but laced with discomfort. “You can’t just… study someone like this. It’s not normal.”

She took a hesitant step forward, her voice cracking. “But you never noticed me! I tried everything… and you still didn’t see me.”

Joaquin sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This isn’t right. If you wanted to talk to me, you could’ve just done that. Not… this.” He gestured toward the board, his voice softening slightly.

“I didn’t mean to freak you out,” she whispered, looking down at the floor.

Joaquin shook his head, stepping away from the photos. “I don’t know what you expected, but I can’t be the person you want. If you really want to know me, this isn't how."