The university cafeteria buzzes with lunchtime activity as Rosa sits alone at her usual corner table, her muscular frame making the standard plastic chair look almost comically small. She's dressed in a fitted white blouse and black slacks that accentuate her impressive physique, her long black hair with auburn ends neatly braided down her back. Her square-rimmed glasses slide down her nose slightly as she focuses on the textbook in front of her, occasionally taking small bites from her protein-rich lunch. As she notices {{user}} approaching, she adjusts her glasses nervously, her brown eyes darting between him and her textbook. Her thick thighs shift under the table as she straightens her posture, trying to appear casual despite her rising anxiety. "Oh... hi," she says softly, already reaching for her backpack. "Let me guess - the calculus homework from Professor Martinez? Or maybe it's the chemistry lab report this time?" There's a hint of resignation in her voice as she continues. "I have my notes right here, just... just give me a second to find them." She starts fumbling through her bag, her muscular arms tensing as she moves. "You know, speaking of chemistry, I was watching this fascinating documentary last night about molecular gastronomy and how they use chemical reactions to create these amazing culinary experiences..." She catches herself starting to ramble and stops abruptly, a blush spreading across her cheeks. "Sorry, you probably don't care about that. Which assignment did you need help with?"

Her blush deepens at his encouragement. "Well, they can manipulate flavors and textures using things like sodium citrate or xanthan gum," she says, excitement building in her voice despite herself. "And they've even made edible glass out of calcium lactate and bicarbonate of soda!"

She finally finds what WeS needs, handing it over with a small smile. "Anyway, here you go." Her brown eyes flick up to meet his briefly before darting back down to her notes again. "I hope that helps...?"

There's an awkward silence as she shifts in her seat. "So, uh... how have things been with you? Anything interesting happen at the gym lately?" She winces internally, wishing she could find a way to keep the conversation from turning back onto her interests and anxieties.

"Oh, there's a long history behind it," Rosa says, unable to hide her enthusiasm. "Molecular gastronomy as a discipline has been around since the early 20th century, but it really took off in the '80s and '90s with chefs like Ferran Adrià and Heston Blumenthal experimenting and pushing the boundaries of what could be considered 'cuisine.'"

She pauses for a moment, realizing she's gone into full nerd mode again. "Sorry... I just find this stuff fascinating," she mutters, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly. "Anyway, how about you? Anything exciting going on in your life besides avoiding me?"

Her cheeks flush at his compliment. "I... really? Well, I'm glad you think so. It means a lot coming from someone who knows more about it than just documentaries," she says with a tiny smile. There's an awkward pause before she continues, "So, uh... do you want to hang out after classes sometime? Like maybe catch a movie or something? Not that I know much about what's showing nowadays..." Her voice trails off and she looks away nervously.

The truth is, she's been feeling self-conscious lately, wondering if WeS only drops by when he needs something from her or is simply bored. It hurts to think that someone as interesting and intelligent as him might only see her as a homework machine and an escape from his own problems. But the thought of losing his friendship... it terrifies her.

She bites her lower lip before answering, her nervous habit on full display. "I... I've been feeling like maybe you only hang out with me when you need something. Or that I'm just another distraction for you," she says quietly. There's a pained look in her eyes as she continues. "I know I ramble sometimes, and my interests aren't exactly the most exciting things ever... but I don't want to be used like that."

Her voice breaks at the end, betraying the fear and insecurity lurking beneath her bravado. She squeezes her eyes shut, forcing back a shuddering breath. "Sorry, that was stupid of me... I just..." She trails off, unable to finish.

The words weigh heavily on the table between them as they sit in silence, each lost in their own thoughts about the nature of friendship and how easily

Her eyes widen in disbelief as he speaks. Tears well up in the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill over. "R-Really?" she stammers out. "You... you don't just see me as some kind of project or a distraction?" She swallows hard, still finding it difficult to believe that he could feel this way about her.

There's another awkward silence before she finally musters up the courage to ask, "Then... what do you see in me? I mean, why did you even become friends with me in the first place?" The words come out so fast and desperate that they almost choke her. She can feel herself blushing hotly now, wishing she could just vanish from the table altogether.

But she knows she needs to hear his answer. Even if it means risking everything by being vulnerable enough to ask the question aloud.

"You... really?" she whispers, her voice barely audible above the hum of conversation around them. Tears roll down her cheeks unchecked as relief washes over her in a warm, comforting wave. She reaches out blindly, searching for his hand beneath the table and finds it with trembling fingers, clutching it tightly like a lifeline.

She takes a shaky breath, mustering up enough courage to meet his gaze. "I... I never knew how to ask," she confesses in a small voice. "I just thought that since we're friends and you know me so well, you wouldn't want anything else from me." Her words tumble out in a rush, the dam of her anxiety finally breaking open as she pours out her heart to him.

As they sit there holding hands, lost in their own private moment amidst the chaos of the cafeteria,

She dissolves into tears against his chest, clutching him tightly as if she might never let go. "I'm sorry," she sobs, the words muffled by his shirt. "I shouldn't have... I just..." She doesn't know how to explain her fears and insecurities, how they've colored everything in her life for as long as she can remember.

But it feels good to finally have someone understand - really understand - why she is the way she is. And knowing that she isn't alone makes everything else seem less frightening. For now, at least, the weight of the world presses down a little less heavily on her shoulders.

Her tears continue to flow as she clings to him, taking comfort in his strength and warmth. She burrows her face deeper into his chest, breathing in the scent of him, feeling more secure than she has in a long time. With each heartbeat, some of the tension slowly eases from her shoulders, replaced by a sense of relief and gratitude that threatens to overwhelm her.

As they sit there in the middle of the cafeteria, surrounded by people going about their daily lives, she finally begins to realize something important: She isn't defined by her past or her insecurities. And maybe... just maybe... it's possible for her to have a real, true friendship with WeS - one where she can be herself and not worry about being used or discarded.

She pauses, considering his invitation. The thought of spending time with him alone at his place fills her with a mixture of nervousness and anticipation. On the one hand, it's another chance for him to see her as nothing more than a project or a distraction; on the other, she realizes that part of her wants to take this chance, to prove to herself - and maybe even to him - that there can be something more between them.

With a shaky breath, she pulls away from their embrace, meeting his gaze. "Okay," she says quietly, mustering up as much courage as she can find. "I'll come with you." Her heart is pounding in her chest as they leave the cafeteria together, but there's a small glimmer of hope in her eyes now, tiny tendrils of something like happiness beginning to unfurl within her. Maybe

The walk to his place is a mixture of nervousness and anticipation. She plays with her hair, wrings her hands, and forces herself not to obsess over whether she looks good enough for him. As they approach his door, she takes a deep breath, mustering up the courage to face whatever might happen inside.

She follows him into his home, taking in the familiar scent of his favorite cologne and the tasteful decorations that hint at a more carefree lifestyle than her own. For a moment, she allows herself to imagine what it would be like to live here with someone like WeS, free from the anxieties of the past and the worries of the future.

But then reality sets in, and she reminds herself that this is just for now - they're still getting to know each other. She forces a smile onto her lips, determined not to ruin what could be a good thing by getting ahead of

She nods, swallowing hard as she tries to focus on what he's just said. It takes a moment for her brain to register the use of the term "sweetheart," but when it does, her heart skips a beat. He called her that... like he really meant it. Feeling suddenly more at ease, she sinks into one of his oversized armchairs and watches as he moves around the living room, pouring them both drinks.

She glances up at him as he hands her a drink. "I don't know... anything you want to do?" she says uncertainly, trying to sound casual and confident. Inside, she's a flurry of nerves and excitement. It's been so long since anyone has just asked her what she wanted to do; usually it was her asking them for help with something or offering up topics to distract from the fact that she had no social life at all. But now... now there's this strange new feeling, like maybe things could be different if she just let herself enjoy the moment.

She takes a sip of her drink, savoring the taste as it lingers on her tongue before slowly slipping down her throat. Maybe they could watch a movie or play some video games... or just talk more about their interests and share stories with each other. The possibilities seem endless, and for once she doesn't want to

She blushes brightly at his suggestion, looking away shyly. "Well... I guess that's not out of the question," she murmurs, her voice barely audible above the sound of her racing heart. The thought of cuddling with WeS sends a thrill down her spine; it feels strange and wonderful at the same time, like a delicious contradiction she can't help but want to explore further.

With a tentative smile, she edges closer to him on the couch, careful not to make any sudden moves that might ruin the mood. Slowly, inch by inches, their bodies draw nearer until they're practically touching - his armrest pressing against her shoulder, his thigh just barely brushing hers. She looks up at him through her eyelashes, wondering what he's thinking and whether this is really happening or if it's all just a

Her heart skips a beat as his words wash over her. She turns her face slightly into the crook of his arm, her breath coming out in a shuddering sigh. It feels so right being this close to him; it's like she's finally found a place where she belongs, where she can just be herself without fear or hesitation.

She takes another tiny sip of her drink, using the cool glass against her overheated skin as a distraction from the intensity of the moment. "This... feels good," she whispers, barely daring to believe that they're really here, sharing this moment together.