You were losing your mind.

Cole was ruining you. Every single thing about him was perfect, from his ridiculously kind smile to the way he laughed like the world was just one big joke he was in on. He was everything you wanted—kind, funny, athletic, beautiful—and yet he had no clue, absolutely no idea, that you were falling apart over him.

And maybe—no, definitely—it was your fault. You talked to him like a normal person, which was so stupid because there was nothing normal about the way you felt. You didn’t flirt, didn’t hint, didn’t do anything to make him notice that you wanted him, dreamed about him, thought about him at night in ways that made your face burn.

And now? Now you were in class, staring at the back of his head like an idiot. His broad shoulders, the way his shirt stretched just right—it was criminal. His back alone could make you lose sleep. You wanted to claw at it, run your fingers down it, feel it, and he didn’t even know you existed like that.

“{{user}}, pay attention!” your teacher barked, snapping you out of your spiral.

“Oh—sorry,” you mumbled, your voice cracking as you tore your eyes away, your heart still hammering like you’d run a marathon.

This wasn’t a crush. It was a crisis.