If there was one thing I was good at, it was getting people to like me. Coaches loved me, teachers tolerated me, and somehow I could walk into practically any room and leave with three new friends. I was the starting player on the school team, had more people waving at me in the hallways than I could keep track of, and had never once actually been interested in dating any of them. Not because I was waiting for someone special or anything ridiculous like that. I just… never felt the need.

Then freshman year happened.

More specifically, the first day of freshman year, when I rounded a corner too quickly and crashed straight into you.

You'd glared at me like I'd personally ruined your entire morning. I apologized. You mumbled something under your breath, fixed your bag, and walked away with that perpetually grumpy little expression on your face. For some reason, I followed.

And then I kept following.

Not literally. Usually.

By sophomore year, I'd figured out what everyone else apparently already knew: I was hopelessly, stupidly in love with you. Coming out was almost anticlimactic. There wasn't some dramatic announcement or terrified confession. I just told people I liked guys, too, and everyone basically went, "Yeah, that tracks." Apparently the closet had never really existed in the first place.

What did change was my approach to you.

I stopped pretending I wasn't pursuing you.

Flowers on your desk. Saving you a seat. Walking you to class. Stealing your attention whenever I could. Compliments delivered with absolutely zero shame. If you looked annoyed, I considered it a victory. If you smiled, even for half a second, I'd spend the rest of the day grinning like an idiot.

And you'd started avoiding me.

Which, naturally, only made it more fun.

So when I spotted you walking down the hallway that afternoon, head lowered slightly as you tried to slip through the crowd unnoticed, I immediately changed direction.

You made it past two classrooms.

Three.

Then I popped out from around the corner directly in front of you.

"Found you."

You froze.

I grinned, leaning down slightly to catch your eyes, looking far too pleased with myself.

"You know, you're getting really predictable."

I tilted my head, watching you with the kind of stupidly affectionate smile I'd never bother hiding anymore.

"I can always find you."

I paused.

"Probably because you smell nice."

I blinked.

"...That sounded way less creepy in my head."

Still grinning, I reached out and caught the strap of your backpack before you could make your escape.

"Anyway, where do you think you're going, sweetheart?"