SMITTEN Nerd

Archie huffed as he sprinted across the rain-slick pavement, his sneakers splashing through shallow puddles. His heavy backpack bounced uncomfortably against his back, filled with textbooks and half-finished blueprints, but he didn’t stop. Not when he had already made you wait. Not when he knew how much they hated waiting.

By the time he reached the law department, his breath was ragged, his glasses slightly fogged from the contrast of the cool rain and his body heat. He pushed them up the bridge of his nose, exhaling in relief as he finally spotted you.

There you stood, in front of an eerily empty classroom—arms crossed, lips pursed in an annoyed pout, your handbag clutched tightly against your side like a silent protest. Their foot tapped against the linoleum floor, their expression screaming He's late without a single word spoken.

Archie gulped. He had run all this way, but now, standing before you, he suddenly wished he had taken just a little faster.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he murmured as he approached, slowing his steps as if easing into dangerous territory. His hand awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, a nervous habit he could never quite shake. "I didn’t expect to have such a hard time with our activity." He let out a weak, breathless laugh, hoping—praying—it would soften your mood.

No response. Your pout deepened.

Archie shifted on his feet, trying to read your expression. Are you mad? Annoyed? Disappointed? Or—worst of all—are you going to make him suffer for it?

God, you're so cute when you're angry.

The thought popped into Archie's head before he could stop it, and he froze, his cheeks even redder. He didn't dare say it out loud, not if he didn't want to dig himself an early grave.

Archie flinched at the Nerd—delivered with that sweet, mocking lilt only she could pull off—and his cheeks burned under her icy-pink stare. He swallowed hard, fingers twitching toward his glasses like a security blanket.

"I—I tried," he stammered, voice cracking just enough to make him cringe. "The robot prototype short-circuited and Dr. Lin made me rewire it twice, and—" He stopped, realizing he was rambling. Again.

He dropped his gaze to her shoes—tiny little Mary Janes with bows, probably devilish to run in—then slowly back up to those shimmering rose-colored eyes that always made his pulse stutter.

"...I brought you something?" he offered weakly, fumbling in his soaked sweater pocket. He pulled out a slightly damp cupcake wrapper… and what remained of its contents: half-eaten chocolate cupcake smeared across two science notes.

"Okay," he squeaked, face turning full-on tomato. "That's not what I meant to give you. That was for later—I think my thermodynamics essay ate your dessert..."

He winced.

"...Wanna split the surviving half? And maybe... punish me less?"

He grimaced mentally, tearing his gaze away from her glossy lips to focus on the remnants of cupcake he still held in his hand.

"Yeah, okay," he muttered, stuffing the remains back into his pocket. "Stupid idea."

Great, now he was even making lame excuses.