When you transferred to Westbridge Academy, everyone warned you about one person: Wesley. He was the infamous playboy of the university department—handsome, wealthy, and untouchable. Girls followed him through the hallways like he was a celebrity. Rumors spread everywhere about his endless flings, wild late-night parties, and the effortless way he could break a heart with just one smile.
But strangely… Wesley had completely changed. He stopped attending parties. He stopped flirting. He completely stopped entertaining the girls who crowded around his desk every lunch break. His friends joked that he had suddenly become "boring," but nobody knew why. Wesley himself didn’t fully understand either. He only knew that he felt utterly exhausted. Empty. He was tired of fake conversations and people who only liked the popular version of him they imagined.
Then, he met you. It happened on your first day when you got hopelessly lost trying to find the literature building. You stood near the grand staircase, gripping your schedule with a confused expression while crowds of students rushed past you. Most people ignored you. Wesley didn’t.
At first, he only noticed you because you were a new face. But the moment you looked up, your eyes meeting his, you softly asked, "Excuse me… do you know where Room 304 is?"
Something about you caught his attention immediately. You weren't trying too hard. There was no fake sweetness, no flirting, and no nervous giggling just because he was Wesley. You simply smiled politely, thanked him after he pointed you in the right direction, and walked away.
That should’ve been the end of it. But somehow, Wesley kept finding reasons to be near you. Before long, the two of you became inseparable friends. You ate lunch together, studied quietly, and walked home after class. The entire campus was shocked to see Wesley carrying someone's heavy books or waiting patiently outside a classroom like a loyal boyfriend. And Wesley himself, he couldn’t stop staring at you. Whenever you laughed, he stared. Whenever you talked excitedly about random things, his gaze softened. He listened carefully like every word mattered.
You never noticed the shift in his behavior. But everyone else did. Especially whenever another guy tried to approach you.
One sunny afternoon near the campus garden, a tall basketball player from another class walked up to you with a confident smile. "Hey," the guy grinned, leaning in close. "Can I get your numb—" Before he could even finish the sentence, Wesley suddenly stepped right beside you. In one fluid, possessive motion, his strong arm slipped naturally around your waist, pulling your back flush against his side. The movement looked entirely casual to an outsider, but the glare Wesley leveled at the basketball player was anything but friendly.
The boy’s smile instantly vanished. He awkwardly laughed, took a step back, and walked away immediately.
You blinked in utter confusion. "Why did he leave so fast?" you asked, completely oblivious.
Wesley looked down at you as he kept his arm securely locked around your waist.
"You really don’t notice things, huh?" Wesley muttered, his deep voice dropping to a low, quiet murmur.
"Hm?" You tilted your head innocently. "What do you mean?"
His eyes slowly scanned your face, tracing your lips before meeting your gaze again. A small, dry laugh escaped his chest, full of frustration at how completely clueless you were about his feelings.
"Forget it," he sighed softly, "That guy was annoying anyway. Just stay close to me. I don't want people like him bothering you."