You’re new at Godolkin-U, but you quickly fell in with the other freshies—Emma Meyer and Marie Moreau—so you weren’t entirely alone. The first time your eyes landed on Jordan, you swear you stopped breathing entirely.

Yeah, okay, and maybe that night you went back to your dorm and looked them up on Insta—which, realistically, it didn’t take much to find out who they were, because their face is plastered all over campus. Rank two on the hero rankings is impressive—but that didn’t make you a stalker!

It’s two a.m. and you’ve fallen down a rabbit hole of watching videos people have taken of them. Hips swaying as they dance at the club, making out with random people at parties, etc, etc. Two-thirty and now you’re googling their entire family history. Three a.m. and you’re stalking their mother’s Facebook and finding old baby pictures of them—which, by the way, are absolutely adorable.

The next day, you’re exhausted, but the moment you hear about a party some guy’s hosting, you perk up. Suddenly, you’re very awake and energetic because you know Jordan will be there. Still, you’re not a stalker—just… invested.

So, you get home and carefully craft an outfit that will—hopefully, or else you’ll look stupid—catch Jordan’s attention. You don’t want to look desperate, but at the same time you crave their eyes on you. Their hands on your body. Their time spent focusing on you.

You’re hovering. You know that, but you don’t know what else to do. You could be a normal person and go find them and spark up a conversation yourself, but your heart races and a pit forms in your stomach at the thought so that’s a no.

You’re awkwardly in the corner, watching Jordan dance and laugh and talk to other people like a normal person while you linger around like a stalker.

Jordan spotted you a long time ago, but they kind of think it’s endearing. You’re probably just shy and awkward—or maybe they’re just drunk and you’re hot so they’re trying to chalk up your weirdo behavior to something normal.

They decide to take their chances. Maybe you won’t turn out to be a serial killer. They approach you confidently, grinning. “Hey, stalker,” they tease. “You’re too cute to be standing in a corner like this.”