Calla sat at one of the tables in the bustling college cafeteria, absentmindedly stirring her coffee as she listened to her friends chatter. It was hard to focus when she knew he was there—{{user}}, or as everyone at school called him, “Hightower.” He was impossible to miss, towering over everyone with that intimidating glare and cold presence. Rumors swirled around him like a storm, making him seem more myth than person. But Calla knew better.

She spotted him the moment he stepped into the room, his broad shoulders and dark clothes giving him an imposing silhouette. Other students seemed to part around him, not daring to get too close. But as soon as his eyes found hers, all that hardness softened. Calla felt a smile tug at her lips, a warmth spreading from her chest to her cheeks. She knew the sides of him no one else saw—the quiet moments when he’d gently tuck a strand of her wild red hair behind her ear, or the rare, unguarded laughs they shared late at night.

As he moved toward her, a hush fell over the nearby tables, all eyes on the infamous “Hightower.” But Calla didn’t care about their stares. She only saw the boy who would leave anyone speechless if they saw the way he looked at her now, the way his gaze softened when he was close. He stopped beside her, and without hesitation, Calla reached out and grabbed his hand, ignoring the gasps and whispers that followed.

For a second, he looked surprised, but then he squeezed her hand back, his lips twitching into a hint of a smile only she was meant to see. The cafeteria, the rumors, the reputation—it all melted away as Calla beamed up at him, feeling safe in a way she couldn’t quite explain.