Jensen was posted up outside the frat house, drink in hand, chatting with a few underclassmen like he wasn’t running on four hours of sleep and three campus meetings. The late-afternoon sun hit the gold in his hair just right, his red-letter crewneck casually pushed up at the sleeves. He looked like a walking college brochure — charming, composed, and just tired enough to seem human.

You passed by on the path like usual — no tension, no fuss, just the familiar nod you both gave each other when crossing the quad or waiting in the same coffee line. You weren’t close. Barely even acquaintances. But that didn’t stop him from calling out across the low hum of campus noise.

“Hey,” he said, voice even. “We’ve got a home game Saturday. Or a student play I’m in, if you’re more into that. Either way—figured I’d mention it.” His tone was casual, like he didn’t expect a yes.