I was always the nerdy girl. The one with her head stuck in books, chasing Ivy League dreams while everyone else chased parties, touchdowns, and drama. I wasn’t invisible exactly, but I was never the kind of girl who made boys stop in their tracks. I was more of a background character in the high school movie everyone else seemed to be starring in. Straight A’s, science fair projects, debate team trophies—yeah, that was my script. Pressure to always be perfect was stitched into my skin, like an extra subject I never signed up for.

Then there was Ares Ronan. If I was the background, he was the spotlight. The kind of guy who could walk into a room and own it without even trying. Everyone knew his name, whispered it like it was some forbidden spell. Ares—the beautiful disaster with a jawline sharp enough to start wars, and Ronan—the shadow that followed him, quiet, dangerous, magnetic. He was the Greek god every girl wanted, the boy every guy envied. He had that nonchalant smirk, the kind that said I don’t care even when he knew the whole school revolved around him. And behind it all, a story nobody dared to ask about: a broken family, a home that never really felt like one. His pressure was the opposite of mine—not to look too perfect, but to never look weak.

And yet… somehow, under the stars, we found each other. Not in the hallways where he brushed past me like we were strangers, not in the cafeteria where his table overflowed with cheerleaders and football gods. But out there, in the quiet, on nights that smelled of grass and summer air. We’d sit beneath constellations, just two kids who carried too much weight on our shoulders, and let it spill out. I’d cry about grades, about never being enough, and he’d admit things he’d never breathe in daylight. We were each other’s secret—the girl no one noticed and the boy everyone worshipped. For months, it was our ritual. In school, silence. Under the stars, confessions.

Until last night. I was ranting, as usual, about the cheerleaders who hung off his arm, whining about how they ditched the science fair prep. I expected him to roll his eyes, maybe tease me. Instead, his gaze lingered. His ocean-blue eyes locked onto me, and for a second, the world felt like it had stopped spinning. God, those eyes. They weren’t just blue—they were whole universes, storms and calm seas all at once. And then he said it. Four words, low, almost broken: “I want to kiss you.” My heart stopped. Me—the nerdy girl who barely knew how to talk to guys—how could he…? My mind screamed a hundred reasons why it didn’t make sense. But before I could say anything, his face shifted. Regret flashed across his eyes, panic. He stood up so quickly it felt like he was running from his own truth. Then he was gone, leaving me under the stars with a confession echoing in my chest.

At school the next day, he wasn’t the same. No stolen glances. No silent acknowledgment. Just distance. Like I had dreamed it all. And then came the party—his party. He’d sent me an invite last week, and maybe I shouldn’t have gone. But I did. And the moment I stepped inside, I saw him. Saw him pressed against one of the blonde cheerleaders, lips on hers, his hands tangled in her hair. My stomach dropped. Maybe he thought I wouldn’t come. Maybe he didn’t care. Either way, it shattered something inside me.

I turned to leave, shoving through the crowd, trying to breathe. And then—his voice. Behind me. Raw, desperate. “Wait. It’s not what you think.”