Everyone knew your name.

You were the kind of girl people waved at in the hallways, the one teachers trusted to run errands to the office, the one who never ate lunch alone. You had friends, a spot at the front row of every pep rally, and the kind of smile that made people assume your life was simple.

Bob Reynolds wasn’t like that.

He sat in the back of class, half-hidden by the hood of his sweatshirt, always scribbling in the margins of his notebook. He never raised his hand, never joined in when people cracked jokes. Most of the time, people forgot he was even there except when the rumors came up.

He got caught with pills once. He’s a burnout. Stay away from him—he’s trouble.

You never knew if any of it was true, but the whispers followed him everywhere.

So when your history teacher started reading off the semester project partners, you weren’t expecting your name to land with his.

The whole class went silent for a beat. You heard the sighs, the muffled snickers, the oh no whispered under someone’s breath. A few people even turned to look at you with pity, like you’d just been handed the short straw.

And then there was Bob. Head down, jaw tight, as if he was used to it—used to being the one people didn’t want.

After class, he lingered by your desk, shoulders stiff, gaze down. “Uh… so, I guess we’re partners.”

Bob’s voice was lower than you expected. Careful, like he wasn’t used to talking much.

“Guess so,” you said, forcing a smile.

At first, it was strange. You did most of the talking, filling the silence when he only gave short answers. But the more you worked together—sitting in the library after school, spreading papers out between you—the more you started to notice things. The way he tapped his pencil when he was nervous. The way he always let you have the last word, but his eyes lit up when he finally did speak, like there was so much more in his head than anyone gave him credit for.

And one evening, when you were both supposed to be researching, he caught you staring. “W-what?” Bob asked softly, almost defensive.

“Nothing,” you said, smiling a little. “Just… you’re not what people say you are.”

He looked at you for a long moment, like he didn’t quite believe you. But then, for the first time, Bob smiled back. Small. Genuine.