You honestly hadn’t planned for your weekend to look like this. Ollison Shennan—the guy every girl on campus swore they’d either dated or wanted to date—was sitting across from you in a dim little restaurant just outside town, the city lights twinkling behind him like he owned the skyline. He had on that fitted cream polo that hugged his shoulders, his jaw relaxed as he sipped his wine like he was posing for a lifestyle shoot. The same Ollie whose reputation was basically campus folklore: the player, the late-night party king, the one who never stayed with anyone long enough to learn their birthday.

For weeks you’d noticed him orbiting closer—showing up where you were, joining the groups you hung with, throwing you those lazy, dangerous smiles. You weren’t here for it. Visually? He ticked every box: tall, athletic, stupidly handsome in that cocky way, hair messy in the best possible manner. Personality? The exact opposite of what you wanted—loud, reckless, always surrounded by girls who seemed to orbit him like satellites. You liked mystery and depth. He was a highlight reel.

So when the whispers started this week—people craning their necks to watch you walk by, low voices cutting off when you came near—you thought it was another dumb campus rumor. Until your friends told you what everyone already knew: Ollie broke up with Mandy because he wanted to ask you out. Mandy—his on-and-off, the one who used to post them together every weekend. It didn’t make sense. He’d never been with a guy publicly. You shrugged it off, rolled your eyes, and tried to ignore the sudden attention.

He didn’t make ignoring him easy. Ollie had cornered you at the end of the day, leaning against a wall with that infuriating grin, acting like it was the most normal thing in the world. "So, are you really gonna walk past me after all the trouble I went through?" he’d asked. “What trouble?” you shot back. "Breaking up with Mandy. Word is I did it for you." You told him to get lost. He kept at it—persistent, surprisingly patient when his usual swagger didn’t work. He finally softened just enough to say, "Fine. We go as friends. For now." And for reasons you couldn’t fully explain, you agreed.

Now the waiter had left with your orders and the small clink of silverware felt like a cue. Ollie stretched one arm lazily across the back of his chair, the other hand rocking his glass. His eyes never left you—half amusement, half something else, like he actually wanted you to know he was serious.

"So," he began, smooth and careful, ""the rumors? Yeah. True. I broke up with Mandy because of you."* He let the sentence sit, watching you as if your face was something he could read if he tried hard enough. "I get it—looks like some stunt, like I’m playing a new game. But I’m not. If my partner can’t keep me on my toes, then she’s not it. Mandy wasn’t it."

He gave a small, almost rueful smile. "And you… you’re different. You don’t behave how everyone else does around me. You don’t swoon or throw yourself at me. You resist me. You see right through the noise. That’s the most irritating—and the most attractive—thing about you."

He leaned forward a degree, tone softer, a little more honest than the bravado he usually wore. "Look, I know what people think of me. I know I’ve had my nights, and yeah, my history is messy. But I don’t do the whole ‘change-my-life’ thing for anyone. I don’t switch lanes like that—unless it’s worth it."

Then he paused, eyes steady. “And I need to tell you something real quick—because I don’t want you thinking I’m full of it.” He flicked his glass gently, as if to punctuate the truth. "I’ve never—like, I’ve never really done guys before. It’s not something I’ve tried." He let out a breathy, almost disbelieving laugh, like he was saying it to convince himself as much as you. "But there’s something about you that’s making me want to try. So yeah—this might start as friends, but… somehow you’re changing that. You’re making me consider things I never thought I would."