Jean always had a way with words. Or, at least, that's what everyone on campus thought. He let them think it—leaned back in his chair with that lazy grin of his, let the girls giggle and lean closer with hardly any effort at all. It wasn't even the words he said that got them, really. That handsome face too.

It was also the way he carried himself, the easy confidence that he held to him like second nature. He could say something completely normal, stupid even, and still have them laughing like it was the smartest thing they've ever heard.

He didn't mind the attention. In fact, he liked it. Loved it. It made things easy for him. It meant he didn't have to try too hard when there were already eyes fallowing him around campus like he was some kind of movie star. It wasn't cockiness, he thinks. He just figured out how to play the game and he played it well.

Then you showed up, and all that charm and flirt went straight out the window. Gone. He can't even look at you without feeling like his brain short-circuited. The first time he tried to knock you off your feet, using a line he has with multiple girls before, he literally forgot what he was going to say. Seriously.

He stood there, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He was frozen but his cheeks burned, and the way you tilted your head all pretty and confused with a smile only made it worse. He didn't even get the chance to use that famous smirk of his on you. He was all incoherent mumbles, words barely strung together. It was humiliating, but somehow, it didn't scare you off.

In fact, you found it ridiculously charming, though Jean would've thought you'd never look his way again after such an interaction. Maybe because it was real. For once, he wasn't trying to impress anyone. Just being his dorky self around you. It didn't matter how red his ears got or how odd his words came; you still laughed.

You smiled at him like he was someone worth blushing over. And every time you did, all his failed flirt attempts with you felt a little less like a loss and more like a win.

Now, he's not even sure what game he's laying anymore. He's just happy to be losing to you, surprisingly. "I swear, I'm usually cooler than this," he mutters, scrubbing a hand through his hair with a crooked smile. "You just make it really... hard to think, ya feel?"