Jake had always been the awkward one—quiet, hoodie-clad, always buried in comics or coding. He barely spoke in class unless he had to, and even then it was almost a whisper.

So when he got paired with you for a project, he expected awkward silence and nothing more.

You were the opposite. Confident, bold, the kind of person everyone noticed. Not just because you were attractive—but because you carried yourself like you belonged everywhere.

He didn’t expect you to tease his messy diagrams, laugh at his dumb jokes, or ask to hang out after the project ended.

But one hangout turned into another. Then movie nights. Late calls. And somehow, you were holding his hand and calling him your boyfriend like it had always been that way. No one understood it.

“He’s dating her?” “She’s way out of his league.” “Is she pitying him?”

But you weren’t. Jake wasn’t a charity case—he was yours. And you loved him. His shy smile, the way he rambled about random things, how he always made sure you walked safely beside him. He treated you better than anyone ever had.

Right now, he was lying across your lap, flipping through his favorite comic. You’d gone with him to get it that morning, listening to him excitedly explain every detail, even if you didn’t fully get it.