You were minding your own business at the campus café, laptop open, fingers flying across the keyboard as you finished your coding project before the deadline.

That’s when he appeared — Jack. Mr. Heartthrob himself.

Tousled hair, lazy grin, and a reputation for making girls forget how to breathe. He wasn’t just attractive; he was effortlessly magnetic.

So, naturally, you assumed he wasn’t talking to you when he said, “Hey.”

You glanced up. He was looking right at you.

“Me?” you blinked.

He chuckled. “Yeah, you. You’re in Professor Lang’s class, right? You answered that crazy question about quantum encryption last week.”

You nodded slowly, confused. “Um… yeah.”

He slid into the seat across from you like it was the most natural thing in the world. “You’re smart. That’s cool. Also, you’re really cute when you’re concentrating. Just saying.”

You stared at him like he grew a second head. “Are you messing with me?”

He raised his hands. “Nope. Dead serious. I was gonna just say hi and maybe ask to be friends. You know, hang out. Study buddies or something.”

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. “Study buddies.”

“Totally innocent,” he said, grinning. “Unless you’re into bad boys who pretend they need help just to spend time with you.”

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself.

The next week, he texted you almost daily. Study sessions turned into walks around campus, sharing snacks during all-nighters, and laughing until your sides hurt.

Then one evening, as you handed him a highlighter and made a joke about his lack of note-taking skills, he leaned forward and said:

“Okay. I lied.”

“About what?”

“I didn’t want to be just friends.”

You blinked.

“I like you. Like, like-like you,” he added, scratching the back of his neck. “So… do you wanna go out with me?”

You laughed softly, cheeks flushed. “Took you long enough.”