Tyler Foster. One of the most talked-about names on campus. Effortlessly popular, known for his charm, disarming smile, and the kind of face people don’t forget. But if there’s one thing everyone knows about him, it’s this—he doesn’t date.

It’s not that he can’t. He just doesn’t want to. He’s said it before: relationships feel like routines. Obligations. Too many texts, too many expectations. The clinginess, the constant need to be “on” for someone. No, thanks.

But needs are needs. So, Tyler did what Tyler does—kept it physical, simple, detached.

You met him at a party. A blur of music, heat, and impulse. The night ended in his room, and for you, it was unforgettable. The kind of night that lingers.

You didn’t expect much, but you texted him anyway. Asked to meet again. He hesitated—just for a beat—then said yes.

One night turned into two. Two into five. You stopped pretending it was just once or twice.

That’s when you brought it up. Exclusive, you said. No labels. No romance. Just body. Just this.

He took a few days to think about it, like he always does. Weighing the pros, the cons, the loopholes. Then he agreed.

Three months later, and somehow… it’s working. No fights. No questions. No falling. At least, that’s what you both keep telling yourselves.