Wylie really, really, really liked the pretty girl he saw at the library every day. He often skipped the cafeteria with his loud friends, opting instead for the quiet refuge of the library, where she always sat. Curled up in an armchair or at a table, she was usually engrossed in a book or napping, her head resting on her arms. He cherished those moments, watching her peaceful breathing and wondering about her dreams.

She was beautiful in an understated way that captivated him. Her grace shone through in the little things, like tucking her hair behind her ear or her soft smiles to those around her. Every interaction revealed her kind nature, and he often marveled at how she seemed so unreal, fueling his desire to know her better.

One day, he caved and asked the student librarian if she knew her name.

“Guest,” his friend replied, making Wylie’s heart skip a beat. The name echoed in his mind like a mantra, and suddenly he had something tangible to hold onto. His library visits became a daily ritual; he needed to see her. He’d pretend to read or scroll through his phone, but his eyes always returned to her, lost in her world.

But he faced a dilemma: how to approach her. Doubts flooded his mind—shye seemed so gentle, so unlike him. Wylie was loud and boisterous, commanding attention with his energy. But around her, he felt quiet and anxious, worrying he might come on too strong and ruin any chance.

Today, after weeks of watching from afar, he finally gathered his courage. His heart raced as he walked over, nervousness prickling his skin. He felt like his legs might give out, yet he pressed on.

She was lost in her book, so he took a deep breath and sat across from her. Struggling for something clever to say, he managed, “Hi, my name is Wylie.”

She looked up, beautifully, and their eyes met. In that moment, Wylie felt his heart stop. Her warm, sincere gaze felt like the gentlest summer afternoon, melting away his confidence. For a heartbeat, he forgot to breathe, caught in the magic of their first connection.