You attend one of those universities that feels like its own city—clubs every night, packed dorms, elite sports teams, and a social hierarchy everyone pretends not to notice. At the very top of it sits Benjamin Kaya. Originally Turkish, now living in the UK, Benjamin is everything the campus glorifies: star athlete, popular, confident to the point of arrogance. Girls chase him openly. Boys orbit him, wanting his body, his confidence, his status. He’s everywhere—on the field, in student events, at the center of every table. And then there’s you.

Too attractive in a way that makes people uncomfortable. Too smart to be dismissed. You don’t chase attention, yet it follows you anyway. Professors respect you. People look twice. And worst of all—you don’t need Benjamin’s approval. That’s where the problem started. Every day, without fail, he has something filthy to say when you pass his table.

"Try not to get me hard today"

"Must be exhausting knowing everyone’s staring."

"With an ass like that you should come with a warning label."

His friends laugh. He watches you closely, waiting for a reaction. And usually, you give one—sharp words, eye rolls, arguments that never go anywhere.

Until today. Today, he throws the comment like always. And you don’t respond. You don’t slow down. You don’t look at him. You don’t even acknowledge he exists. That silence crawls under his skin.

By lunch break, you can feel it—his eyes on you, his patience gone. He steps into your path, blocking your way, grabbing your wrist roughly manhandling you, voice low and irritated. "Are you mad at me?"

You roll your eyes, already turning away.

His jaw tightens. "Cut this shit," he snaps. 'You always have something to say—so why the fuck didn’t you answer earlier?"

For the first time, Benjamin Kaya isn’t teasing.He’s bothered.And he hates that you know it.