𝗕𝗨𝗖𝗞𝗬 𝗕𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗘𝗦 𝗢𝗡𝗘 𝗦𝗛𝗢𝗧𝗦

Defending Your Honour

SONG REQUEST FOR THIS CHAPTER: NOTICE by THOMAS RHETT

Story recommendation from AlejandraMartnezFlor

1, 136 Words

College can feel like one long popularity contest. Everyone's trying to prove something—to their parents, their professors, their friends. I didn't have to try too hard. I was already that guy. The charming one. The guy with the smirk, the leather jacket, the legacy scholarship, and a bunch of friends who thought throwing paper airplanes in lecture halls was the peak of comedy.

I played along. Hell, I was them, for a while.

But there was always something about the quiet girl in the library.

Y/N.

She always sat by the far window, tucked behind a fortress of books, like she was trying to make herself invisible. Hair falling over her face, sweater sleeves pulled over her hands, always with that same pair of headphones in. Never looked up. Never made eye contact.

And somehow, I couldn't stop looking at her.

I didn't even know her name for the first few months. Just called her "Library Girl" in my head. But I noticed everything—how she highlighted only in blue, how she paused her music every time someone got too loud near her table, how she flinched whenever someone made a sudden noise.

It didn't stop the guys from messing with her.

Especially in the hallways. I'd be walking with my group—Steve, Sam, Clint, the whole gang—and one of them would make a comment.

"Hey, quiet girl," Sam said one afternoon as she passed us on the way to her class. "You allergic to people or just stuck up?"

Y/N froze. She always did. Her eyes flicked down, arms wrapped tighter around her books like armor. She didn't say anything. She never did.

"Bet she's secretly a spy," Clint snorted. "Or a vampire. Only comes out during library hours."

Everyone laughed.

Except me.

That day, something in my chest twisted in a way I didn't like.

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The breaking point came on a Tuesday. It always seems to be the small days, the quiet ones, when everything changes.

She was walking down the east hall, the one that led to the English department. Her books were cradled in her arms, hair a little messier than usual, like she'd run out of time that morning. Her hoodie sleeves were pulled over her hands again, and she had her head down.

"Yo, Y/N!" Sam called out. "Where's the funeral?"

She blinked, startled by her own name, and stopped mid-step.

Clint chuckled. "Seriously, what's with the all-black wardrobe? You part of a cult?"

Laughter. Always laughter.

I saw her face then—tight, tense, the color rising to her cheeks. But her eyes stayed on the floor, and her fingers clenched around her books like if she just held on hard enough, the ground would swallow her whole.

That's when I snapped.

"Hey!" I barked, stepping between them and her. "Knock it off."

The hallway went dead silent.

I don't think I'd ever heard Sam shut up so fast.

"What?" Clint asked, confused. "We're just messing around—"

"It's not funny," I said, my voice low. "It's never been funny. Just leave her alone."

Y/N's eyes finally lifted—wide, surprised. She looked between me and the guys like she wasn't sure what dimension she'd just stepped into. Then, without a word, she turned and bolted down the hall.

"Y/N—wait!" I called after her, but she was already gone.

I took off, ignoring the stunned stares behind me.

I found her behind the admin building, tucked between the walls like she'd folded herself into the shadows. She sat on the cold concrete, knees to her chest, books on the ground beside her, her face buried in her arms.

"Y/N?" I approached slowly, like I was approaching a wounded animal. "Hey..."

She looked up, blinking through the tears she was clearly trying to hide. "Why did you do that?"

I sat down next to her. Not too close. Just enough.

"Because I should've a long time ago."

She shook her head. "You don't even know me."

"That's not true." I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. "I know you sit by the window in the library because it gets the most sun in the afternoon. I know you write your notes in blue pen, but highlight in blue too, so your books are always neat but impossible to read. I know you always order black coffee, even though I can tell you don't like it by the face you make after the first sip."

She stared at me, mouth slightly open.

I gave a small, self-deprecating laugh. "Yeah, I notice you. A lot more than I should've. And I'm sorry. For what they said. For not stopping it sooner. For being one of them."

She looked away, brushing at her cheeks with her sleeve. "It's fine."

"It's not."

A long silence.

Then she whispered, "They make me feel like I'm nothing. Like I don't matter."

My chest tightened. "You matter. You hear me?"

She didn't answer.

I shifted to face her more fully. "Y/N... I've liked you for a long time. I just didn't know how to say it without sounding like a total jerk. And the guys—what they do—it made me ashamed. That I didn't speak up sooner. That I let them make you feel worthless when I think you're... amazing."

Her head snapped toward me again, eyes wet but sharp. "You think I'm amazing?"

"Yeah," I said, laughing softly. "I think you're brilliant. And brave. You walk through this place every day with your head down, but you never break. That takes guts. And I admire that more than anything."

She swallowed hard, voice barely audible. "I like you too."

That froze me. "Wait—really?"

She nodded, cheeks flushed pink. "I thought you were just like them. But you're not. Not really."

"I'm trying not to be," I admitted. "I want to be better."

"You already are," she said quietly, "just by being here right now."

We sat there for a moment, the noise of the campus distant, like we'd stepped into a bubble outside of time.

"I know I'm not the kind of guy you'd expect," I said, "but I'd like to get to know you better. If you'd let me."

She gave the smallest smile. "Only if it's not in the library."

I chuckled. "Deal."

We didn't kiss. Not yet.

But I walked her to her next class. Held her books when her hands were shaking. Gave her my number, written on the inside cover of her notebook.

The next day, she sat with me at lunch.

And for the first time, the guys didn't say a word.

Maybe they were finally learning. Or maybe they were just shocked.

Didn't matter.

Because the girl from the library wasn't invisible anymore.

And I'd never let her be again.

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