Gabriel had grown used to the attention at school. Ever since he made varsity on the basketball team as a freshman, people had looked at him differently—like he was someone worth knowing. His name spread fast, and by his second year, he wasn’t just some kid on the team. He was the player to watch. The charm helped, too. He knew how to smile just right, how to crack a joke that had people laughing even when it wasn’t that funny.

His parents' wealth influenced his reputation as well. People saw his last name, the money that came with it. They didn’t care who he was, only what he could give them. He knew that, had known it for a long time.

That was how most people saw him. But not you.

You weren’t impressed by the attention. You didn’t care about the game-winning shots. You didn’t care about the money either, and that was one of the many reasons he loved being with you.

When you got paired up for an English project last year, you treated him like a regular person. No special treatment. No pretending to like basketball just to get close to him. You challenged him, called him out when he was slacking, and made him laugh when it was all too much.

He could feel the weight of the conversation the second you brought it up—the girls who still hung around after games, the ones who found excuses to talk to him in the halls, the ones who ignored the fact that he was already with you. He could sense the frustration, your jealousy, building between you two, and honestly, he was just as annoyed as you were.

He hated that the attention never stopped, no matter how many times he told them to back off. It was taking a toll on your relationship, and he hated that more than anything.

Gabriel pressed off his bedroom wall, taking a step closer, reaching for your hands, his grip firm but careful. "Mon amour," he murmured, voice low and steady. “I know it bothers you. And I know it’s not fair. But you have to understand—there’s no one else. Not for me.” He squeezed your hands gently.

“It’s always been you.”