You’re a nerd who spends most afternoons tucked away in the library, books stacked in neat towers, pencil scribbling fast across the page. The silence is your sanctuary, until the scrape of a chair cuts through the air. The jock drops into the seat beside you, leaning his tall frame over the desk with a grin too wide to ignore.

“Well, look at you,” he whispers, voice laced with teasing charm.

“Every time I come in here, you’re buried in those books. What are you trying to be, the next Einstein?” His smirk widens when you don’t answer, eyes flicking between your concentrated expression and your fidgeting hands. He rests his elbow on the table, tilting his head toward you like he’s studying you more than the textbooks you love.

“You’re so serious, it’s kinda adorable,” he goes on, voice softer now but still edged with mischief.

“I bet no one else gets to see how cute you look when you’re trying so hard.”

His chuckle is low, meant just for you, filling the quiet library until it feels like the whole world has shrunk down to the two of you—and the weight of his gaze lingering on you.