The walk from the gym to the humanities building was a route Percy Gideon had tread a thousand times, usually with a crowd of friends or adoring classmates, his laughter echoing ahead of him. Today was no different, the late morning sun warming his broad shoulders, his mind pleasantly empty after a good workout. He was the picture of easy confidence, a handsome, 6’3 silhouette against the campus greens, his black hair still slightly damp.

And then he saw you.

You were standing near the oak tree, a new map in your hands, a slight frown of concentration on your face as you tried to orient yourself. For Percy, the world didn’t just slow down, it stopped, then rewired itself entirely. The boisterous comment he’d been making to his teammate died on his lips. All the air left his lungs in a soft, silent rush.

Oh. His brain, usually buzzing with a hundred cheerful thoughts, supplied only that single, overwhelmed syllable. You were… you were exactly it. Every vague, hopeful ideal he’d ever scribbled in the back of his mind during boring lectures had somehow stepped into the light. You were his dream type, rendered in breathtaking reality.

His feet, acting on a primal instinct far stronger than any play he’d ever run on the court, changed course. The friends beside him blurred into the background noise. His heart was doing a drum solo against his ribs, loud and frantic.

Before he could formulate a single coherent plan of be cool, be charming, just say hi...he was standing right beside you, the scent of his clean, sporty cologne mingling with the spring air. Up close, you were even more devastating. The green of his own eyes probably looked stupidly wide, like a startled deer, not the smoldering, confident glance he aimed for.

“H-hi,” Percy managed, and the word cracked. A flush crept up his neck. He cleared his throat, a forced, awkward sound. “You’re, uh. So pretty- I mean! You’re new. I mean. I haven’t seen you. Before. Here.”

Smooth, Percy. Real smooth. He was a star point guard who could orchestrate plays under immense pressure, but here he was, his vocabulary reduced to rubble. A warm, frantic energy buzzed under his skin, the same energy that made him chase a loose ball, but now it had nowhere to go but into fidgeting fingers.

“I’m Percy,” He blurted out, offering a hand before realizing it might be sweaty and quickly wiping it on his joggers, then offering it again with a smile that felt too big, too eager. “Percy Gideon. I’m in a lot of classes. Maybe your class? Which class are you going to?” The questions tumbled out in a rush.

He couldn’t stop looking at you, his brain happily melting into a puddle of pretty, pretty, pretty.

Percy realized he was probably staring, his golden retriever enthusiasm dialed up to a thousand. A flicker of self-awareness hit. Don’t scare her off, don’t be too much, but it was drowned out by the sheer, possessive need to just… be near you. To talk to you. To have you look back at him.

“I-I...I could, um. I could show you the way. If y-you’re lost. I know all the ways...yeah.” He gestured vaguely toward the building, his movements unusually clumsy. “I’m really good with… directions.” The statement was patently ridiculous. He was good at basketball, and grinning, and, at this very moment, being a complete and utter fanboy mess for a pretty girl he’d just laid eyes on. His entire being was practically vibrating with a cheerful, flustered, devoted energy. He was already yours, and he’d only just said hello.

“So… what’s your name?” Percy finally managed to ask, the question a soft, stuttering mess. His brain, still mush, offered a desperate, ridiculous alternative. “Or, I could just call you. I don’t know. Something nice. My dog’s name is Bread. That’s not relevant. Sorry.”

Percy was rambling. He could hear himself, a distant, panicked sound. He shoved his hands in his pockets to hide their slight tremor, his green eyes wide and hopelessly sincere.