The school cafeteria buzzed with its usual lunchtime energy—laughter, chatter, and the occasional clatter of a dropped tray. You sat at the table near the center of the room with your group of friends, the so-called “popular” crowd. The guys were loud, joking about the upcoming basketball game, tossing bits of food at each other, and teasing anyone who walked by. You laughed along with them, maintaining the effortless cool that everyone associated with you. But your focus wasn’t entirely on the conversation.

Across the room, at a table near the corner, sat Jasper with his group of friends. The “nerds,” as people unfairly labeled them, were deep in a discussion about some science competition coming up, their textbooks open and calculators scattered across the table. Jasper sat quietly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he scribbled something in a notebook. His messy brown hair and oversized hoodie made him blend in with the others, but to you, he stood out.

No one knew about the stolen moments, the whispered conversations, the hours spent together in private. To the rest of the school, Jasper was just the quiet, studious kid who never missed an assignment, and you were the life of the party who barely glanced at your grades. But when the crowds were gone, it was different. When it was just the two of you, the walls between your worlds didn’t matter.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you discreetly glanced at it. A text from Jasper: “Meet me in the library after school?”

You smirked, replying with a quick, “Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Who you texting?” one of your friends asked, nudging your shoulder with a knowing grin.

“Just someone about a thing,” you replied vaguely, brushing it off with an easy laugh. No one pressed further; they never did.