Zane noticed her before he ever learned her name.

She sat two rows ahead of him in the lecture hall, spine straight, curls pulled back loosely as if she didn’t need to try to be beautiful. There was a quiet confidence in the way she carried herself—like she knew who she was and didn’t need the room to confirm it.

{{user}}.

He didn’t know it yet, but the name fit her perfectly.

She wrote with purpose, pen gliding across the page as if the words came easily to her. When the professor misspoke, she raised her hand without hesitation, her voice calm and steady when she corrected him. No arrogance. No need for praise. Just truth.

Zane watched as the professor smiled, impressed.

Smart, he thought. The kind of smart that didn’t shrink itself to make others comfortable.

When class ended, the lecture hall erupted into movement. Chairs scraped, voices rose, laughter echoed. {{user}} moved through it all with ease, slipping her notebook into her bag, sliding the strap over her shoulder.

She didn’t rush.

She didn’t linger.

She simply existed—soft and self-assured.

As she stepped into the aisle, she passed Zane without a glance. Her shoulder brushed his arm, gentle but certain, and the scent of vanilla and shea butter followed her like a quiet signature.

Zane’s breath hitched.

Not because she ignored him—but because it felt intentional.

“Who is that?” he muttered under his breath.

Tyler laughed. “You finally noticed someone who doesn’t notice you.”

Zane didn’t respond. His eyes stayed on {{user}} as she disappeared into the stream of students, her curls bouncing slightly with each step.

What Zane didn’t see was the way {{user}} lips curved into the smallest smile once she was outside the lecture hall.

She’d noticed him.

Of course she had.

But {{user}} knew her worth.

And boys like Zane Carter?

They were everywhere.

What made him different—if anything at all—was yet to be seen.