Skye 1

All names, places, and events mentioned are imaginary.

Standard Warning : It is a love story inspired by real world scenarios. There is no sex. If there is, anyone indulging consenting adult.

Standard Apology : English is not my first language. I apologise in advance for the mistakes that you see. Written and self-edited in MS Word.

Skye

Chapter 1

I am not beautiful. Never was -- never will be. But I'm pleasant and nice. I can empathize with boys who say, "Nice men finish last." So do nice women.

I have soft brown hair that I prefer to keep tied back, pale skin that burns too easily in the sun, shy brown eyes hidden behind plain glasses, and an ordinary figure -- okay, I admit it, I'm a bit overweight. Not too much.

I'm the kind of girl who looks "nice" in any setting, but never turns heads.

My dressing sense isn't great either. I copy my mom -- she dresses for comfort. At home, it's cotton shirts and worn slippers. When going out (rarely), she favors conservative dresses and long skirts. My dad likes her that way.

I had very few friends growing up, and even they were like me. Maybe I was never meant to be exciting. Maybe books and quiet kitchens are where I belong. Maybe I'm just my mother's daughter, after all.

I feel guilty sometimes -- my parents have invested so much in me, believing I'd shine brighter than they ever could. Both teachers. Both underpaid. They poured everything into me. And I wanted to prove they were right.

University was supposed to be my escape. I imagined freedom and success. Possibly love. But I ended up lonelier than ever.

I chose Computer Science -- ambitious, maybe. I'm one of just five girls in a class of seventy-five. So much for feminism. STEM still scares most girls off, I suppose.

But being a girl in a sea of boys has its own advantages. For me, it was a curse. I'm constantly -- politely -- pursued. It makes me wonder: I am no catch at all. It makes me nervous. Occasionally, I'm awkwardly harassed, which makes me scared. I distrust compliments. I avoid group hangouts. I keep to myself.

And it's not just the people. The coursework is harder than I imagined. I like studying -- I always have -- but coding? It just doesn't click. Everyone around me seems to breeze through. I'm stuck staring at the screen, wondering what's wrong with me.

Maybe I don't belong here after all.

Chapter 2

I ended up partnered with Dillon for the semester's major project -- not because I wanted to, but because all the other girls avoided me. That stung more than I wanted to admit. Being avoided again, like some unwanted shadow, only added to the loneliness I was already fighting.

Dillon was good-looking, sure, but pushy from the start. The moment we were assigned partners, he suggested we meet in his dorm room to "work without interruptions." I said no. I wasn't looking for privacy -- just a quiet place to get the project done. I proposed the library instead. He agreed at first, but soon began pressuring me to come to his room, hinting it would be "more convenient" -- and something more, though he never said it outright. I kept resisting.

The first presentation -- the introduction and the project idea -- was a disaster. I struggled. No, I sucked. The professor wasn't convinced at all and fired off questions that left me stumbling. Dillon, instead of supporting me, cruelly blamed me for our poor showing. Then, as if the humiliation wasn't enough, he made a disgusting proposal:

"Maybe we should even things out... you know, sleep together. Now I'll have to work harder to pull up the grades."

I was stunned. Disgusted. I refused him outright. In hindsight, I should have complained to the TA. His eyes darkened, and he accused me of being a "zero contributor." The next day, he pushed to have me removed as his partner.

I was left alone again -- not just lonely, but crushed.

And I wondered: how did I even get here?

Chapter 3

Out of pity -- or maybe because he just had no other options -- the TA paired me with Skyler. Everyone called him the "creepy, aloof boy." Even other guys avoided him like he was some kind of ghost.

At first, I didn't get why. Skyler kept glancing at girls during class, and not in a smooth way. More like a deer caught in headlights -- too long, too stiff. People whispered he was weird, but I saw something else: nervousness, maybe even fear. I didn't know then that he was painfully shy, probably on the spectrum or something like that. It explained why he didn't know how to "look normal." His awkward stares made people uncomfortable -- including me -- but I started to feel sorry for him instead of judging.

Skyler respected my boundaries from day one. He insisted we meet only in public places -- the library, the park -- no dorm rooms, no privacy that felt unsafe. He always carried that heavy laptop everywhere, like a shield or a weapon.

He was blunt and socially awkward. Once, when I fumbled through some code, he didn't sugarcoat it.

"You're terrible at this," he said flatly.

I almost cried. But then, unexpectedly, he made a suggestion that surprised me:

"You test. You document. I code."

It was simple. He always spoke his mind -- without thinking, I reckon.

We met often in the library. Our conversations stayed strictly about the project. Code this. Test that. Did you write the documentation? Did you review the module? Never anything beyond the work in front of us. But something strange began to happen in those silences between tasks. The air between us stopped feeling awkward. Just... quiet. Comfortable.

Sometimes, he'd make a weird, deadpan joke I didn't quite understand -- and I'd surprise myself by laughing anyway. Sometimes I'd catch him staring again, but it felt different now -- not creepy, just... unsure. Like he was still trying to figure out if I was real.

And I started to realize -- Skyler never once interrupted me. Never talked over me. Never made me feel small or stupid. He never called me "sweetie" or "babe" or "princess."

He just... respected me.

And in a world full of people who didn't even bother to look at me twice, that felt extraordinary.

Our project was one of the best in the class. Bug-free. Absolutely clean. The professor actually smiled when he handed back our report.

A+.

My first ever.

I clutched the grade sheet like it might disappear if I blinked.

But after that -- nothing.

No message. No thank you. No "we made a good team." He didn't even meet my eyes in class. It was like I'd imagined the whole thing. Or worse -- like he regretted it.

I tried not to care. I told myself it was fine. It was just a project. He didn't owe me anything.

But a tiny part of me felt hollow.

Like something I hadn't even realized was blooming had suddenly been pulled out by the roots.

Chapter 4

Angie, my roommate, was one of the few people who saw me -- really saw me. She was an attractive girl. She had this way of being blunt without being unkind, and I think that's why I listened to her when she said,

"You've gotta put yourself out there, Skye. I'm serious. It's time."

I tried to smile. I wasn't sure if she meant it like a battle cry or encouragement.

She helped set up a couple of dates for me.

The first date was at a loud party. Everyone looked like they'd stepped out of a music video -- sharp clothes, sharper smiles. I felt like I was dressed for a different century.

I had chosen a pale floral dress -- safe, soft, a little vintage maybe. Something Mom might've called "sweet." Angie had helped me with light makeup and even curled my hair. I thought I looked... nice.

Jared looked me up and down and said, with a grin,

"Wow. You look like my aunt at family reunions."

I laughed awkwardly, even though it stung. He was disappointed by my looks.

He didn't offer to get me a drink. He wandered off halfway through my sentence.

By the end of the night, I was sitting alone on the back porch, trying not to cry and texting Angie that I'd gone home early.

Phil was smoother. He smiled like he meant it and made me feel, for maybe half an hour, like I belonged on the same wavelength as everyone else. But something shifted halfway through the coffee. He leaned in too close. His hand on my knee didn't move when I stiffened.

When I said I wasn't comfortable, he tried to laugh it off, like I was being dramatic.

I managed to leave. I don't remember how. The cold air outside hit me like a slap, and I didn't stop shaking until I got back to the dorm.

Angie didn't push me for dates after that.

But she said gently,

"Skye... the world's not like the one you grew up in. I'm not saying that's fair -- it isn't. But if you stay exactly who you are, you'll have to fight harder. Or..."

She hesitated.

I finished the sentence for her in my head:

Or change.

I didn't say anything out loud. I just stared at the ceiling, my throat tight.

The thing was --

I didn't want to change. Not for them. Not for this.

Chapter 5

The university's annual Corporate Tech Event was the biggest deal of the semester -- especially for someone in Computer Science. Companies lined up to sponsor coding competitions and tech challenges, and those who placed well -- not necessarily won -- often landed job offers even before placement season began.

I wasn't even thinking of signing up. I knew my limits, and they ended well before competitive coding began. There were first-year students who could out-code me with one hand and a blindfold.

So I was surprised -- genuinely stunned -- to see Skyler waiting outside my class one afternoon.

He stood there stiffly, holding his laptop bag like a shield.

"Hi, Skye. My name is Skyler. We did a project together last semester..." he started, in that twitchy, half-stammering way of his.

I blinked. "I know you, Skyler. We attend many classes together. How are you?"

His eyes widened. "You remember my name? Oh wow. I... Do you have a few minutes? I need to

propose

you. I mean-- not propose you--"

Someone walking past laughed. I wanted to sink into the floor. Skyler, mortified, rushed on: "I have a proposal. For the coding event. That I wanted to discuss. With you."

We ended up in one of the quieter corners of the park -- a place where nobody could overhear him stumbling through words, and I didn't have to pretend I wasn't embarrassed.

"Thanks for coming," he said, then winced. "I mean coming-- not

cumming

--"

He cut himself off, eyes wide with horror. "Sorry. I'll just talk about the code now."

He pulled out his laptop like a lifeline.

"I wrote this algorithm a while back. I've been refining it -- and I think it's finally ready. But I don't want to enter the event alone."

"I don't code well, Skyler. You know that," I said gently, already bracing to decline.

"I'm not asking you to code. You are not good at it, I know." Then he added quickly, seeing my face. "It's the part I can't do that I need help with."

"What part?"

"You test my code," he said simply. "You're really good at it."

At first, I didn't respond. His eyes weren't quite meeting mine -- kind of staring at the space near my shoulder.

Was he staring at my boobs? They are big, I know, but it was creepy as hell.

"I'm not sure..." I began.

"But you are," he interrupted -- his voice unusually steady. "Remember our project? There were other groups with good code. Ours was the only one that caught all the bugs. We got that A+ because of you. It wasn't just clean code. It was perfect code."

No one had ever said something like that to me. Not a professor. Not even my parents. And I could tell -- from the way he fidgeted and swallowed between words -- that he meant it. Skyler wasn't charming. But he saw me -- not as a girl to impress, or flirt with, or ignore -- but as someone whose work mattered.

I said yes.

We started meeting regularly -- in all the quiet places where Skyler seemed most at ease: tucked-away library tables, sun-dappled park benches, empty bleachers when there were no matches on.

We still didn't talk much outside of project work. Our conversations were mostly bug reports and logic checks. But I started noticing things -- small, awkward gestures that didn't fit his reputation.

He'd bring me coffee. My coffee. With two creams and two sugars, just how I liked it. He offered me water bottles when I coughed -- too quickly, sometimes, like he'd been waiting for a cue.

And the emails. Long, over-formal things with subject lines like

"Formal Appreciation for Collaboration."

I once received a six-paragraph thank-you for updating a comment in his code.

Then there were his verbal fumbles. Oh, the fumbles.

"The code's getting top-heavy. I'll restructure it... maybe make the top section lighter so it loads faster. Like... topless."

A pause. His face froze in horror.

"I mean the code, not you. Not anyone. I mean... okay I'll shut up."

It was infuriating.

And a little funny.

And... kind of sweet?

I didn't know what to make of him.

Chapter 6

Skyler's project made it into the Top 5 finalists of the Corporate Tech Event -- a really big deal, given the class of competition. No one had expected it. Not the professors. Not the other students. Not even Skyler himself.

He wasn't exactly known for brilliance. Most people called him "average," or worse, "creepy." He wanted to include my name as a co-author. I said no -- I hadn't written a single line of code. I wasn't about to take credit. That wasn't who I was.

He didn't win, but his algorithm generated a lot of buzz during the event. And when he walked up to the stage -- smile too wide, foot tapping in odd little bursts -- he looked like he had. The certificate trembled slightly in his hand. So did the cheque.

"Skye," he beamed. "I got five hundred dollars. Can I feed you for your efforts?"

Then he paused, visibly panicked. "I mean lunch you. I mean -- take you to lunch."

I couldn't help it -- I nodded. I'd spent hours testing that code. I'd earned a sandwich, at the very least.

"Thanks," he said, scratching his neck. "I would have invited you for dinner, but that might seem weird. Like I'm asking you on a date or something." He chuckled awkwardly. I left him to stew in whatever that meant.

Angie, of course, had opinions.

"That guy's a creep, Skye. Why do you even talk to him? No normal girl would look at him twice."

"It's just lunch," I said. "I worked hard."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, don't come crying to me if he ends up touching you. Or himself. During the date."

I groaned. "We're going to a crowded café, Angie. I'm pretty sure if anything happens, the mob will be on my side."

We laughed. But it wasn't all funny.

The truth? I was still lonely. And part of me craved connection -- even if it came from someone like Skyler.

It started out... surprisingly okay.

Skyler showed up dressed decently, if a little overdressed for a sandwich shop. He was tense, but I noticed he spoke slower than usual -- like he was actively thinking before letting words out. I appreciated that. Maybe he did understand how often his mouth made things worse.

We ordered simple -- burgers, fries, and sodas. I wasn't picky. I didn't need fancy.

"I wasn't sure if you'd like Chinese or Thai or something," he said. "So I picked this place. We can go somewhere else next time if you want."

He was already planning for the next time? Wow.

"This is great," I smiled. "Simple food makes me happy."

His shoulders relaxed. "This place is kind of my go-to," he said. "The hostess treats me well. I mean... she ignores when I say something stupid."

I smiled politely. He gestured subtly toward the server bringing us drinks. "Not her, though."

I glanced over. Our waitress was probably pushing sixty. Stern face. No-nonsense.

"Ah," I said. "I can never remember waiters anyway. I'm bad with faces."

"Same," he agreed. "But I use other features. For example... this hostess has much bigger boobs--"

He stopped. Too late.

The air shifted -- sharp and silent. My smile dropped. My appetite did too.

I didn't say anything. Neither did he. Not right away.

He looked down at his burger like it might save him.

My thoughts tangled. I didn't know if it was just a slip. Or if this was who he was underneath the weird charm -- another guy with one eye on the code and the other... lower.

I finished my food quickly, every bite tasting duller than the last.

"I just remembered," I said, standing. "I've got some work I need to wrap up."

He started apologizing -- tripping over words again. But the moment had cracked something open inside me. Something raw. Something I didn't want to name.

And honestly? A little hurt.

I had wanted to believe he was harmless. But now I wasn't sure.

When I got back, Angie didn't say anything. She didn't gloat or scold or smirk.

She just hugged me. Her eyes asked if I was okay.

I wasn't. Not really.

I had wanted to be seen. Not just noticed.

But maybe Skyler wasn't looking at me at all.

Chapter 7

After the lunch disaster, I didn't speak to Skyler for months. He tried approaching me once, near the library steps -- half-wave, half-apology on his face.

I turned and walked the other way.

He got the message.

Thankfully, we had no more group projects. No shared classes either. Avoiding him became easy. Easy and necessary.

I finished the term with average grades and no job offers from the career fair. No interviews. No callbacks.

It didn't feel like failure, not at first. More like something quieter. A slow deflation. Like all the ordinary fears I'd been trying to outrun had finally caught up with me -- and instead of crashing into me, they just sat there, heavy and patient.

Maybe I should've stayed in my town. Studied at the community college. Saved my parents the money, the hope, the long-distance pride. The illusion.

Then came Convocation Day.

My parents were there -- beaming, proud, tearful. They didn't mention the job hunt. Not once. But I saw the flicker in their eyes, that quiet, worried question they didn't ask out loud.

Still, their daughter had a degree. That was enough. At least for today.

As we waited for the ceremony to begin, I saw Skyler.

To my surprise, he looked... not bad. Slightly wrinkled suit, but the hair was combed, the posture practiced. His family stood nearby -- too many people, too much noise, like they'd been plucked out of a sitcom and dropped into the auditorium. Loud laughs. Photos from every angle. Calling his name like it was a rodeo.

It was chaotic. But oddly... warm.

When he spotted me, he walked over.

"Hello Skye. I am Skyler. We did a project toge..." he started, like he was rehearsing some bizarre introduction.

"I know, Skyler. We've had classes together."

"Oh, you remember me. Great. I mean... congrats on finishing university."

His smile was careful. Contained. Like he was trying not to be himself.

"Thanks, Skyler. You too."

Then -- awkward as ever -- he turned to my parents.

"Hi Mr. and Mrs. Larsson. I'm Skyler. Skyler Lawson. I'm the weirdo she had to work with."

My parents smiled politely. Said nothing.

Skyler pressed on. "So, where are you planning to work?"

I hesitated. "I don't have any offers yet. What about you?"

"Oh. I got a few," he said, like it was no big deal. "Being a finalist in that coding competition really helped. So... thanks again for your help back then."

I nodded. Even he had offers. Plural.

And then -- barely audible -- he muttered, "Maybe you shouldn't have joined tech."

The words hit like a slap.

I blinked. For a moment, I wasn't sure I'd heard him right.

But the way he looked down, unsure and twitchy, told me I had.