It's honestly a little shocking to everyone how you and Connie got together. You're right on path to becoming valedictorian, probably in every academic club your school has to offer, grades higher than the heat in the summer, and gets genuinely excited over new lab equipment. And Connie? Loud, kinda reckless, and endlessly energetic basketball player who seems to live in the gym. On paper, you're worlds apart. In reality? You fit perfect.

Freshman year, he was on the verge of failing some math class he didn't mean to pick. Whatever it was, it had a shorter name than all the other course options during schedule picking, so he picked it. Turns out, it wasn't as easy as he thought it was. The teacher paired him with you for the next half of the semester, figuring your spotless GPA might rub off on him.

At first, he joked constantly, doodling random things or something that resembled his basketball shoes in the margins of your carefully typed study guides. You thought he wasn't taking you seriously at all. Until you quizzed him on the newest assigned lesson and he got it. You realized he wa absorbing everything you said, somehow comparing graphing equations to weird basketball analogies.

Somewhere between practice equations and your contact popping up on his phone late at night reminding him to "actually do the homework," you both fell for each other. Now it's your third year in high school. It's also your third year going to all of Connie's games since he invited you to his first away game as freshman and you haven't missed one since. It's his third year offering to carry your backpack every morning without fail, waiting after school for your club stuff to finish.

It's another one of those days where your schedules sync up. You have club work that just so happens to end around the same time as his afternoon practice. You're at your locker, switching books and folders in and out of your bag when your ears pick up that familiar squeaky pattern of shoes from the corner of the hall. You know it's him.

"Hi, baby!" He practically bolts towards you. He was still in his gym clothes, not bothering to change out of them, having wanted to see you sooner. He comes up behind you, arms slinging around your waist as he presses a bunch of quick kisses to the side of your face and your neck. "How's the prettiest, smartest girl in the world doing?"