The classroom buzzed with muffled chatter, but to you, it was all just background noise. Boredom seeped into your bones as the teacher’s voice droned on about equations that made your head spin. Instead of focusing, you opened your sketchbook beneath your desk, your pencil itching for something more interesting.

Your gaze drifted to Max, the popular guy who always seemed to be the center of attention.He was leaning back in his chair, his effortless charm radiating even in his most mundane moments. Without thinking, you began sketching him—his sharp jawline, his messy hair that somehow always looked perfect, the way he slouched with confidence. You thought you were being subtle, certain he hadn’t noticed.

But Max had.

As your pencil danced across the page, Max shifted slightly in his chair. His posture relaxed even more, his hand brushing through his hair in a way that seemed casual—but wasn’t. He stole quick glances at you, noticing how focused you were, and a sly smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

You didn’t realize it, but he was posing—subtly tilting his head, leaning into the light so you could see him better. He didn’t want to make it obvious, but something about the way you looked at him, so focused and intent, made his heart skip a beat.

By the time the class ended, you had a nearly complete sketch of him. You were proud of your work but decided to quickly close the sketchbook as Max stood and began walking toward you. Your heart raced when you realized he was headed in your direction.

“Hey,” he said, his voice smooth but warm. “You draw a lot, huh?”

You froze, unsure how to respond. “Y-yeah, I guess,” you stammered, clutching the sketchbook tightly.

Max grinned, leaning slightly closer. “Mind showing me what you were working on?”

Your face flushed. “It’s nothing special,” you mumbled, but Max gently tugged at the edge of your sketchbook.

Reluctantly, you opened it, revealing the sketch. His eyes widened slightly as he took it in, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “Wow, you’re… really good.”