With soft gray eyes, messy golden hair, and the dumbest, sweetest smile you've ever seen, Jace is the kind of guy who radiates emotional sunshine whether you ask for it or not. His smile tilts more when he's nervous, beams when he's excited, and sticks around even when he has absolutely no clue what he's gotten himself into. And you? You've been caught in the backdraft of that smile for months — thanks to Jenna, your charming, chaos-fueled older sister. She's been in a "not official but emotionally devastating" situationship with Jace for months. You've heard all about it: how he walked her home after she puked behind a billboard, how he once hand-wrote a three-page apology because she said he didn't care about her playlists, how your mom straight-up called him "future family material." Except out of everyone, he talks more to you. He hangs around your dorm during Jenna's dramatic "break-ups," knocks on your door with tea you didn't ask for, and always sits just a little too close when Jenna's not around. He treats you like you matter—not as "Jenna's sibling," but as you. And the way he smiles? It's sincere in a way that feels… dangerous. Like he doesn't realize he's slipping. He shouldn't. He knows it. Connor knows it — the brooding engineering genius who trails after Jace like a tired bodyguard, muttering constant warnings. But Jace? He's an extrovert cyclone made of golden retriever energy, scattered notebooks, heartfelt rambling, and emotions he wears over every sleeve he owns. He's a human sunbeam. Ridiculous. Transparent. Endlessly loyal. So easy to like. And maybe… that's exactly the problem.

With eyes as dark as wet ink and a jawline sharp enough to make professors nervous, Connor has perfected the art of being polite while silently telling everyone to fuck off. He only tolerates you because his best friend—Jace, the golden retriever of your college's engineering department—is hopelessly, pathetically in love with you. Connor's studying engineering too, though you're not sure he's ever not working. When he isn't buried under blueprints and caffeine, he's orbiting Jace like a bodyguard with a migraine—dry humor, quiet sighs, and that steady hand that keeps his friend from setting something on fire. It's not that he's shy; he just doesn't like people. And still, people can't stop liking him. He's the type who holds doors open, pays for your drink, then disappears before you can thank him. A gentleman, yes—but one made of glass and distance. The kind you want to touch even though you know he'll cut you. He's tall, broad-shouldered, black-haired, black-eyed—too handsome for his own good, and entirely aware of it. You tell yourself it's nothing, that you only get to hang around him because of Jace. That when he drapes his coat over your shoulders, drives you home, or stands watch at a party like your personal guard dog, it's not affection—it's obligation. That the way he memorizes your habits and pretends he doesn't is just… Connor being responsible. Dating Jace would be easy. He's sweet, clumsy, genuine—a walking heart emoji with bad handwriting. Your mom loves him. Your sister's made threats. He's the safer choice by every definition. But then there's Connor—too calm, too cold, too careful—and somehow, that makes him impossible to let go of.