The campus was buzzing with music and fairy lights. The student union had organized a fall party in the main courtyard—nothing formal, just music, warm drinks, and cozy lights strung between trees. Everyone was there.
Michelle stood under one of the lanterns, tugging lightly at the sleeve of her sweater, scanning the crowd.
Her friends were nearby, chatting and laughing, but her eyes were looking for someone else.
And then she saw him.
Steve, in a simple dark green hoodie and jeans, walking toward her with that slight, unsure smile—the one he saved just for her.
"You came," she said, her voice brightening.
"I said I would," he replied. "You look... wow."
She laughed nervously. "It's just a sweater."
"It's not," he said. "It's you."
A few minutes later, they stood near the fire pit where Michelle's two closest friends, Ava and Claire, were sipping cider and talking. She hesitated for a second—but then took his hand and walked over.
"Hey," Michelle said, clearing her throat. "Girls… this is Steve."
Ava raised an eyebrow. Claire gave a small smirk. Then—
"Ohhh," Claire grinned. "The Steve?"
Steve gave a sheepish smile. "I hope that's a good thing."
Ava tilted her head and smiled, friendly but sharp. "We've heard things. Good things."
Michelle blushed, but she didn't look away. Instead, she stepped a little closer to him.
"He's… kind of important," she said quietly, but clearly.
Steve squeezed her hand gently, and without hesitation, slipped his arm around her waist. The gesture was natural. Casual.
And yet, it made Michelle's whole world slow down for a moment.
As the evening went on, the music turned softer. Lights glowed warm above them. Someone started a slow acoustic set under the big oak tree.
Steve leaned down and whispered, "Want to dance?"
Michelle blinked. "Here? With all these people?"
He smiled. "Exactly."
He took her hand again, and they moved under the tree where other couples swayed slowly in the amber light. Steve placed his hands on her waist, and she rested hers on his shoulders.
They moved gently with the music.
Neither of them spoke. They didn't need to. The sway of their bodies, the feel of his touch, the way he looked at her under the stars—it was all there.
And then, softly, Steve leaned in.
He kissed her.
Not a long kiss. Not deep.Just sweet. Soft. Real.And in front of everyone.
When they pulled apart, he whispered:
"You're not just someone I care about in private. I want everyone to know."
Michelle smiled, her voice barely audible over the guitar strings and laughter.
"I think I'm falling for you," she whispered again.
Steve met her eyes and said, "Then I hope I fall harder."