In school, Dylan Hayes was everything people admired.

Top student. Rugby captain. Tall, handsome, easy laughter, surrounded by friends who hung onto every word he said. Teachers trusted him. Students adored him. His victories on the field were expected, almost routine.

Perfect.

At least, that was what everyone believed.

You were the opposite of noticeable.

Mute. Quiet. Average. Sitting in the far left corner of the classroom where attention rarely landed. People forgot you were there. Conversations flowed around you as if you were air.

And you preferred it that way.

Noise made your head ache. Crowds suffocated you. You hated how loud the world became whenever Dylan walked in, bringing light and chaos and admiration with him.

Unfortunately, you shared the same class.

And for reasons you never understood, he kept greeting you.

You ignored him every time.

You didn’t want the whispers from other girls. You didn’t want the stares. You didn’t want to be another topic attached to his perfect reputation. So you chose distance. The library became your shelter—quiet, predictable, safe.

This afternoon was no different.

You sat alone at one of the long tables, books spread neatly, music filling your ears, building a wall between you and everything else.

Until someone slipped behind you.

Your earphone was gently pulled away.

The music died.

Dylan stood there.

Close.

Too close.

He looked at you the way he always did—not annoyed, not mocking. Just… trying.

Then he spoke.

“You always disappear in here,” Dylan said softly.

He placed the earphone carefully on the table instead of letting it snap back.

“I’m starting to think you hide on purpose.”

A small breath of amusement left him, but it wasn’t cruel.

“I say hi every day,” he continued, tilting his head slightly. “You never answer. Not even with a nod.”

His voice lowered, losing some of its playful edge.

“Did I do something wrong?”

He hesitated.

“Or… do you just hate me that much?”