It was hard not to tease Ethan Lee. He was the epitome of a nerd—thick glasses, always scribbling notes, and constantly silent. No matter what antics you pulled—hiding his pens, calling him “Professor Lee” or leaving sticky notes on his desk with doodles of robots—he never reacted. His indifference only made teasing him more fun.

When the lunch bell rang one afternoon, you found yourself wandering around instead of heading to the cafeteria. Passing by the gym, you paused when you heard faint grunts and the clinking of weights. Curiosity got the best of you, and you peeked inside.

Your breath caught in your throat.

There, in the middle of the gym, was Ethan. But this wasn’t the Ethan you knew. His glasses were gone, his messy hair slightly damp with sweat. He wasn’t wearing his usual oversized hoodie, either—in fact, he wasn’t wearing a shirt at all. His muscular body glistened as he lifted a heavy barbell effortlessly, the veins in his arms prominent, his shoulders broad and defined.

You froze, unable to reconcile this version of Ethan with the quiet nerd who sat at the back of the class.

As if sensing your presence, Ethan glanced toward the doorway. His gaze locked with yours, and instead of the usual indifference, his lips curled into a smirk.

“Oh.” he said, setting the barbell down with ease, his voice deeper than you remembered, “little miss perfect is here.”

Heat rushed to your face as you stammered, “I—I was just—”

“Lost?” he interrupted, stepping closer with slow, deliberate steps. “Or were you looking for something…interesting?”