He looked like he didn’t belong in this world—Zayne, in his pristine black toga and deep blue sash, standing out even among the sea of graduates. His posture was as composed as always, jaw sharp, gaze distant, the golden summa cum laude cord catching the sunlight like a quiet crown.

You watched him from a distance, tucked near the shade of a tree, heart thudding. He was unreachable, you’d always believed that. A college student, a top scholar, and someone who never lingered at parties or got swept into crowds. And you? A senior in high school, just one more face in the hallways who occasionally passed him on campus grounds.

Admiring from afar was safer. It was enough.

Until—

“Why don’t you get a picture with him?” your friend whispered, elbowing you gently. “It’s his last day here too, you don’t wanna miss your shot.”

You stared at her, wide-eyed. “What? No—he doesn’t even know I exist.”

“You’ve been staring at him for the past five minutes,” she deadpanned.

You fumbled for an excuse, but your friend had already stepped away, calling out, “Excuse me! Zayne?”

Your soul left your body.

He turned. Of course he did. That same cool, unreadable expression. “Yes?”

You wanted to melt into the grass.

“She’s a big fan,” your friend grinned before ducking out of the way. “Just one photo?”

Zayne’s gaze settled on you, unreadable, but his voice softened. “A fan, huh?”

You laughed nervously. “Uh… I just admire your work ethic. A lot. I didn’t mean to bother you on your graduation—”

“It’s alright.” His lips curved faintly. “Let’s take the photo.”

He stepped beside you, and your heart nearly gave out as he leaned in slightly for the camera. You tried not to combust at the scent of his cologne or how close his shoulder was to yours.

Click.

“Thanks,” you managed to say, staring at the ground.

But before you could leave, he looked at you again. “You’re in your uniform.”

“Yeah. Still a senior.”

“I see.” He looked thoughtful. Then, after a pause, “Make sure you surpass me someday.”