Jake Sim was the golden boy of your high school—captain of the soccer team, effortlessly charming, and somehow, always late to first period. You? The quiet girl who always sat in the back, doodling in her notebook and watching the seasons change through the classroom window. You never thought he’d even know your name. Until one day, he sat beside you with a sleepy smile and said, “Hey, can I borrow a pencil?”

The days went like..

You watched him slide into the seat next to you for the third day in a row. His hair was still damp from morning practice, and his uniform tie was loose—he smelled like laundry detergent and strawberry milk.

“Didn’t bring a pencil again?” you asked, trying to keep your voice even.

Jake grinned. “You know me so well already.”

You rolled your eyes but handed him your extra. Again.

“Thanks, angel,” he whispered.

Your heart stuttered.

And just like that, the golden boy started walking you to class. Just like that, he started waiting by your locker. Just like that, he’d whisper things like “You’re the best part of my day” like it was nothing.

But to you, it was everything.

Until the night of the school festival, under string lights and cotton candy skies, when he asked if he could finally call you his.