Megan's POV
"Megan! Wait!" I heard someone calling my name, but I didn't slow down. I walked even faster, hugging my bag tighter to my chest.
The sun had already begun to dip beneath the horizon, and I still had to get to the café where I worked part-time—sometimes as a barista, sometimes at the register, always on my feet. But before I could take another step, a strong hand caught my wrist and spun me around.
I gasped, nearly screaming—until I found myself face-to-face with the last person I ever expected.
Ashton Pritzgold, the campus football prodigy, the golden boy of our school, and the ridiculously handsome quarterback every girl swooned over, including me.
His eyes locked onto mine—deep, piercing blue—and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. My heart pounded in my chest like it was trying to escape. This had to be a dream. It had to be. I'd imagined this moment since seventh grade, but never like this. Not with him standing so close I could smell the faint hint of his cologne—fresh, clean, intoxicating.
I'd spent years convincing myself I didn't have a chance with someone like him. I was invisible to people like Ashton—just the quiet, scholarship girl who lived on the edges of everyone's attention. My best friend Alice was the only one who ever knew I harbored a secret crush on him.
And now, here he was holding my wrist. Saying my name.
"How do you even know my name?" I managed to say, my voice a little breathless, a little awestruck.
He chuckled, and I hated how good it sounded—like warm honey in winter. "Are you serious? You've been top of our class since freshman year. We've been in the same section for what—four years now? Of course, I know who you are, Megan Corteza."
Hearing him say my name sent another jolt through me. I stared, unable to look away. Up close, he was even more dangerously good-looking than I'd realized. And worse, I was totally aware of how much I was trembling. This can't be real.
He was always surrounded by cheerleaders, always glowing in a world too polished and privileged for someone like me. I'd stopped watching his practices from a distance the day I saw them—those girls with their perfect curls and confident laughs—swarming around him like moths to a flame. I'd told myself then that I was never going to be part of his world.
Not someone like me. A girl with calloused hands from part-time jobs and a life built on quiet survival.
I dropped my gaze, hoping he wouldn't see how flushed my cheeks were. But he still hadn't let go of my wrist. My skin burned under his touch, and my heart raced in ways I'd only read about in romance novels.
"What do you want from me?" I asked softly, turning my face away, trying to sound indifferent even as every fiber of my being screamed with electricity.
He didn't hesitate. "I want to ask you out."
I froze. My eyes widened. My heart stopped.
"Come again?" I asked, wondering if I'd heard wrong. Ashton just grinned, and oh God, he had dimples.
"I said," he repeated playfully, "I want to ask you out."
He let go of my wrist then, and I instantly missed the warmth of his hand. But he kept his gaze locked on mine, and I couldn't stop blushing under his stare.
"But, why me?" I whispered.
His smile faded slightly, replaced by something gentler. "Do I need to write a list? Or put it in a letter? Why do I need a reason to want to know you, Megan?"
I stood there, speechless again. This couldn't be happening. Maybe it was a dare. Or a prank. Or—God forbid—a bet. I'd read enough stories, watched enough movies. Guys like him didn't ask out girls like me without some kind of cruel twist behind it.
"I just… I can't believe this," I murmured. "Ashton, you were asking me out? It was flattering, really, but I'm not the girl for you. I know I'm out of your league, so don't waste your time."
His brows pulled together in confusion and disappointment.
But I couldn't let myself believe this was real. I couldn't afford to fall for a fantasy. So I turned on my heel and walked away as fast as I could, even though every step felt like I was dragging a piece of my heart behind me.
And maybe I should've felt triumphant—maybe a part of me did—but deep down, all I felt was heartbreak.
Because I might be the first girl to turn Ashton Pritzgold down.
But I was also the first to wish with every fiber of her being… that she hadn't.
"What?!" Alice practically shrieked, her voice so loud I winced and instinctively covered my ears. "You said no to Ashton Pritzgold? Are you crazy, Megan?"
We were at the café where we worked part-time after classes, tucked just a few blocks from campus. Thankfully, the place was quiet, with no customers at the counter at the moment—otherwise, I might have died of embarrassment.
I glanced around to make sure no one overheard her, then sighed as I wiped down the espresso machine for the third time just to distract myself. "Keep your voice down, will you? It's not a big deal."
"Not a big deal?" she echoed, gaping. "Megan, Ashton freaking Pritzgold asked you out and you turned him down. That is not just a big deal—that's a movie moment, and you completely missed your cue!"
I rolled my eyes and leaned on the counter. "Alice, come on. What was I supposed to do? Say yes and pretend I believe this isn't some elaborate joke? You and I both know guys like Ashton don't ask out girls like me."
She folded her arms and raised a brow. "Girls like what, exactly?"
"You know," I muttered, avoiding her gaze. "I'm not a cheerleader. I don't wear designer clothes. I don't go to yacht parties or have a personal driver. I don't have that perfect, shiny life people like him are used to."
Alice let out a dramatic sigh and threw her hands in the air. "Megan Corteza, you are beautiful. You're smart, kind, and the only reason I'm passing Calculus. You work harder than anyone I know, and you still manage to stay top of our class. If anything, Ashton should be thanking the stars you even gave him the time of day."
I laughed bitterly. "You're sweet, but I need to live in reality. Not fairy tales. I can't afford to fall for someone who lives in a completely different world. It's self-preservation, Alice. If I let my guard down, I'm just setting myself up to get hurt."
She frowned, clearly not buying it. "You're not protecting yourself, Meg—you're punishing yourself. Ashton isn't just popular. He's the most wanted guy on campus. But from what I've seen, he doesn't even pay attention to those girls who throw themselves at him."
I scoffed. "And what, you've been observing him now?"
Alice shrugged with a cheeky smile. "Well, not on purpose. But we do see him around campus. And don't tell me you don't secretly want to know what it's like to date him."
I stayed quiet, my silence giving me away.
She smirked. "Exactly. That's what I thought."
I groaned, burying my face in my hands. "Okay, fine. Yes. I have thought about it. Of course I have. I mean, who wouldn't wonder what it's like to date the golden boy? But it's like falling in love with a star—you can stare at it all you want, but you'll never touch it."
Alice opened her mouth to say something when she suddenly froze, her eyes widening like saucers.
"Oh no," she whispered dramatically. "You have got to be kidding me."
"What?" I asked, turning to follow her gaze.
And then I saw him.
Ashton Pritzgold.
Walking through the glass doors of the café like he belonged in a commercial. His hair was still slightly damp, tousled perfectly as if he'd just stepped out of the shower. He wore a fitted black hoodie and joggers, effortlessly casual and somehow still model-level gorgeous. The sunlight from the window seemed to catch just right on his sharp jawline, making my breath hitch in my throat.
I'd been working here for months, and he'd never come in. Not once. I'd seen his best friend, Zach King, stop by a few times—but never Ashton. Not until now.
And he was walking straight toward the counter.
Straight toward me.
I felt my limbs lock up, like someone had poured concrete into my veins. My heart thundered against my ribs, and I wasn't sure if I should run or pretend I hadn't noticed him at all.
"Oh my God, Megan," Alice hissed under her breath, elbowing me. "He's coming over here. Do not pass out."
I swallowed hard and turned back to the register, pretending to look busy as I wiped an already clean countertop. I could feel his presence, like the air shifted around him—and then he was there, standing across from me, flashing that heart-stopping smile.
"Hey," he said, his voice smooth as silk.
My brain went completely blank.
Why did he have to smell like cinnamon and pine?
"Hi," I managed, hoping my voice didn't sound as breathless as I felt.
He leaned forward slightly. "I was hoping you were working today."
And just like that, the butterflies in my stomach went into a frenzy.
Was he really here… for me?
"Do you think I'll take no for an answer, Megan?"
His voice was low, confident, and laced with a teasing boldness that made my heart lurch. I froze, my hand hovering over the tablet as I tried to type in their order, but the words blurred on the screen.
I could feel it—the warmth creeping up my neck, flooding my cheeks until I was sure I was as red as the velvet cupcakes in the display case.
Across the counter, Alice giggled like a five-year-old watching her favorite love scene come to life. I shot her a warning glare, but it only made her grin wider.
Ashton Pritzgold, campus legend and walking daydream, had just declared—in front of my best friend and my overly amused co-worker—that he wasn't backing down.
I blinked, trying to find my voice, trying to convince myself that this wasn't a scene from one of those corny teen dramas I secretly binged when I was too tired to study.
But it wasn't a show. He was real. He was here. And he was looking at me like I was the only girl in the room.
I wanted to tell him off again—to remind him that I wasn't the kind of girl who played games or fell for pretty words—but then he smiled. That kind of smile made your knees weak and your brain malfunction.
"Hard-headed," I muttered under my breath as I tapped in the rest of their order. "You're seriously persistent, you know that?"
Ashton leaned casually against the counter, resting his chin on his hand like he had all the time in the world. "Well, I was the MVP three years in a row. I'm used to going after what I want."
I tried not to look directly into his eyes, but it was impossible. His gaze was so intense it made my fingers tremble, and I hoped he didn't notice how nervous I was.
"Here's your order," I finally said, handing him the receipt with what I prayed was a calm and professional smile. But when his fingers brushed against mine, my heart fluttered again.
He didn't say anything right away. He just stared at me for a second longer than necessary. And that look… it wasn't playful or flirty this time. It was serious and intentional.
"I meant what I said," he said quietly. "I'm not giving up on asking you out, Megan. So think about it, okay?"
And with that, he turned and walked to the corner table where Zach was already scrolling on his phone, acting completely unfazed by everything.
I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.
"Oh. My. God." Alice practically lunged at me once Ashton was out of earshot. "Did you hear him? Did you see that look? He's into you, Megan. This is not a drill!"
I pressed a hand to my chest, feeling my heart still hammering like crazy. "I don't know what's happening," I whispered. But deep down, I did know. Something was changing, and it felt like I didn't have to keep my feet on the ground forever.