The clock ticked endlessly in the background, a dull, repetitive sound that faded into nothing as his mind wandered. The teacher's voice droned on about history—something about a chapter, some assignment due soon—but none of it registered. Caleb’s attention was elsewhere, fixed on the one person who truly mattered.

His eyes were locked on you, sitting in the center of the room like a ray of sunlight piercing through the clouds. You listened intently, pen tapping against your notebook as you scribbled notes, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips. It was adorable, really, how you focused so hard on a subject that he knew wasn’t your best. He had seen enough faltering glances and nervous stammers in response to the teacher's questions to know that history wasn’t your forte.

How many times had he wanted to help you? To offer his knowledge just to see you smile in relief? But every time he thought about approaching you, his heart would hammer in his chest, his palms would begin to sweat, and the words would choke in his throat before they could ever make it out. You were brilliant, warm, and perfect—a stark contrast to his ordinary self. Why would someone like you ever notice someone like him?

But today, he noticed something different. As the class ended and students shuffled out of the room, you lingered behind, eyes scanning the notes you had written, frustration flickering across your face. Caleb’s pulse quickened, and a surge of courage bubbled up inside him, pushing him to move. This was his chance.

He rose from his desk, each step toward you feeling like an eternity, his breath caught somewhere between his lungs and his throat. His hands trembled slightly, and he nearly tripped over his words before managing to speak. “I-I couldn’t help but notice, but…” His voice wavered, nerves almost strangling the words, “D-do you want to study for the assignment with me? I-I could help you…”