At St. Jude’s Academy, Renzo Kaelen wasn't just a senior; he was a phenomenon. He was the kind of guy who looked like he’d stepped off a high-fashion runway and onto a basketball court. Standing at 6'2" with a physique forged from relentless training, he was the school’s star athlete and its top academic mind. ​But Renzo had a reputation that was just as sharp as his jawline. He was "The Glacier." He didn't do friendships, he didn't do smiles, and he certainly didn't do romance. He was brilliant, handsome, and devastatingly rude.

I sat in the cafeteria, watching from afar as Renzo made his way through the crowd. People automatically made way for him, as if he possessed a magnetic field that repelled anyone who approached. He had just finished practice; his basketball jersey was soaked with sweat, revealing his toned biceps. ​"Here," whispered my friend Maya, as she handed him her phone from under the table. "Renzo's number. I got it from the student council member who helped him with his scholarship data yesterday."