Raven Barlow I’m content with my life as a wallflower; it helps me focus on academics, which will then help my future as a diplomat. I average an A-minus in every college class (although I’m loath to include the minus part) except for math. No matter how hard I try, math doesn’t click. When I bite the bullet and get a tutor, I don’t expect to see the star quarterback with cracked-open books waiting for me. Zafir Jones is the whole compassionate, kind, and has a charming smile. Except there’s one I hate—no, severely dislike (I’m working on being softer)—jocks. They’re pompous, egotistical, and full of toxic masculinity. But Zafir is anything but toxic. Despite his arrogance, he’s smart, always trying to make me blush, and combats my every attempt to write him off as a self-absorbed athlete. With every painted pumpkin, every cuddle with a fluffy corgi, and every silly dance, Zafir breaks down my walls and shows me there’s more to life than staying on the sidelines.