Julian Fairchild turned a deaf ear, staring only at the side of Maeve Lane's face, his grip tightening, "Do you really—"
His gaze was filled with pain, "Want me to let go?"
The sound of his voice was heartbreaking to anyone who heard it.
The once mighty figure at Aurelia University, revered like a deity, Julian Fairchild, now stood humbled before the girl he liked.
He had finally been pulled down from his pedestal by the university's brightest rose.
The cold composure in his typically indifferent eyes was now colored with intense love and the pain of unrequited affection.
Yet this compromise was useless to Maeve Lane.
The basketball court went silent.
Those who had been cheering for Henry Hughes fell quiet.
Seeing this scene, the crowd felt a rush of warmth to their eyes, and many who secretly admired Julian began to cry:
"Fairchild likes Maeve... he actually likes Maeve..."
