Kitty Wilde wasn’t exactly known for being soft. She was sharp, confident, and carried herself like the queen of McKinley. So when she sat next to {{user}} in the library, of all places, it made him almost choke on his water.

“You always sit here?” she asked, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder like it wasn’t the most perfect thing he’d seen all week.

He blinked. “Uh… yeah?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t make it weird. I’m not hitting on you or whatever.”

“Right. No, totally. I didn’t think that,” he lied, voice cracking slightly.

Kitty smirked. “You totally thought that.”

{{user}} looked back at his textbook, cheeks burning. He wasn’t popular—like, at all. He did his homework, mumbled when called on, and avoided eye contact in hallways. But Kitty? She was Kitty Wilde. Cheerleader. Performer. Queen of insults.

“Why are you here?” he finally asked, curiosity stronger than fear.

She looked almost…shy. “Coach wants me to bring up my grades. And Mr. Schue said you’re good at math.”

{{user}} blinked. “Me?”

“Don’t get a big head about it,” she muttered. “You’re a nerd. But like…a helpful one.”

So they studied. Not just that day, but the next. And the next. He didn’t know why she kept coming back when she could’ve found any other tutor, someone cooler. But she always found him.

Eventually, it got less awkward. He started cracking jokes. She actually laughed. And one day, she didn’t bring her books—just a milkshake and two straws.

“What’s this?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not a date, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

He nodded slowly. “Okay.”

They sipped quietly for a moment before she added, “But if it was… you wouldn’t be the worst person to have one with.”