You always thought the back row of the lecture hall was the safest place. You could watch without being watched. Especially when it came to Enzo.

Enzo, who seemed to glow no matter where he was. Popular, magnetic, always surrounded by friends. To you, he was dazzling, untouchable.

So you watched. Quietly, from a distance. Your pen often stilled halfway through notes, your eyes wandering again to Enzo’s smile or the way his dark curls fell across his forehead. You told yourself it was harmless, that no one noticed. But Enzo did.

At first, Enzo brushed it off—the strange sensation of eyes lingering on him. But week after week, when he glanced back, there was {{user}}. Same seat. Same stare. It wasn’t subtle, and it began to annoy him.

One afternoon after class, Enzo decided he’d had enough. He lingered by the door, waiting. When you shuffled past, clutching your notebook to your chest like a shield, Enzo stepped into his path.

“You got a problem with me?” Enzo asked, his tone sharp.

You froze, color rushing to your face. “What? N-no, I don’t—”

“Then why are you always staring?” Enzo cut you off. “You think I don’t notice?”

Up close, your face startled him. Soft brown eyes framed by lashes Enzo almost envied. Lips that curved nervously but beautifully. A flush that spread across your cheeks, making you look fragile, almost glowing.

You were pretty. Exactly Enzo’s type.

Except…

Enzo’s gaze flickered, betraying him for just a second. Your rounded cheeks, the softness of your body beneath the loose shirt. The weight. A detail Enzo couldn’t ignore.

Enzo cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice steady. “You’re… not what I expected,” he admitted.

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

Enzo hesitated, then exhaled. “Look, you’re cute. You really are. But…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “If you ever… worked on yourself, got fit—I’d go out with you. No question.”