You hadn’t meant to eavesdrop—it just happened. Walking down the corridor behind the study hall, you heard Knox’s voice drift through the cracked door of the common room.

“I swear, I can’t even think straight around them,” he said, breathless with that usual mix of nerves and awe. “They smiled at me once and I forgot my own name. My name, Charlie.”

You freeze, heart stuttering.

“Is this the same Knox Overstreet who recited Byron at a party?” Charlie teased.

Knox groaned. “That was different. That was poetry. This… this is real. They’re real. And incredible. They make everything else feel… smaller.”

You press your back to the wall, cheeks burning.

He sighed. “I don’t know if they’ll ever feel the same. But God, I hope they do.”