Chapter 3

The next evening, I found myself back at the computer lab. After yesterday's conversation with Amy, I had decided to put Brett out of my mind and focus on my advanced algorithms project.

The late-night lab was quiet except for the humming of servers. I pushed open the door, ready to continue optimizing that sorting algorithm, when I spotted an unexpected figure in the corner.

Brett was frowning at a computer screen, his desk scattered with draft papers covered in dense logic diagrams and pseudocode.

This couldn't be possible. I could hardly believe my eyes.

"What are you doing?" I approached, trying to maintain a cold tone, though curiosity was already stirring inside me.

Brett looked up, his eyes tired but unusually focused. "Working on this recursive optimization problem."

I glanced at the screen, and my pupils dilated instantly. It was a dynamic programming algorithm problem that even senior students found challenging!

"This problem..." My voice trembled slightly.

"I know it's difficult," Brett interrupted me. "But I want to understand its core logic."

I stood behind him, carefully examining the code on the screen. My heartbeat began to accelerate—not from nervousness, but from shock. Brett's solution approach was clear, and though there were still some syntax errors, his algorithmic thinking was remarkably elegant.

Was this still the same athlete who only knew charm offensives?

"How did you think to use this divide-and-conquer approach?" I couldn't help asking.

Brett turned around, his eyes shining with a light I'd never seen before. "I discovered that programming is actually a lot like basketball strategy. Both involve logical sequences and finding optimal solutions. Look, this recursion is like the path choices in player passes—each recursive layer requires considering the current optimal decision..."

I listened quietly, inner shock washing over me like a tsunami. He not only understood the essence of algorithms but could also use analogies from his familiar field to explain them. This kind of cross-disciplinary thinking ability...

"Your thinking is clearer than I imagined," I admitted. This was the first time I'd given him a positive evaluation.

Brett stopped typing and looked directly into my eyes. "I just needed a reason to take it seriously."

I felt my cheeks grow warm. Was he implying that I was that reason?

It was nearly 2 AM, and only we two remained in the lab. The fluorescent lights hummed softly, and the campus outside was completely quiet.

"Can I ask you a question?" Brett saved his code and turned toward me.

I nodded, setting down the textbook in my hands. Strangely, I found I didn't want to leave.

"Why did you choose computer science? Not just for good job prospects, right?"

I was silent for a few seconds. Few people had ever asked me this question—most assumed I chose this major because it was a "rational choice for smart girls."

"I want to use technology to change the world, to make algorithms serve humanity rather than be misused," I answered honestly.

"For example?"

"Like eliminating algorithmic bias, making AI more fair. Using big data to solve medical resource allocation problems." Speaking of this, I felt the passion within me ignite. "Technology itself is neutral, but programmers' values influence algorithmic behavior."

Brett nodded thoughtfully, and I saw genuine understanding in his eyes, not perfunctory agreement.

"What about you? Why did you choose this major?" I asked in return.

"I used to think basketball was my everything," Brett said candidly. "But now I realize that creating something lasting is more meaningful. The glory of games fades, but excellent code can change millions of lives."

I felt my chest tighten. Did he really think this way? This kind of reflection on meaning and value was exactly the intellectual depth I'd been seeking.

"Do you really think that?" I asked tentatively.

"Kelly, I know you think I'm just an athlete who only knows how to have fun," Brett's voice was sincere. "But the time I've spent with you has made me start thinking about what's truly important."

Moonlight streamed through the window between us, and I felt the first crack appear in the rational defenses I'd built over many years.

He had more depth than I'd thought. I admitted this to myself while also feeling a trace of panic. My judgment had always been accurate, but now I was beginning to question my initial assessment of Brett.

A few days later, the weekend campus café was filled with rich coffee aromas and the atmosphere of quiet study discussions. I was reviewing data structures when Brett approached with two lattes.

"May I sit here?" Brett asked, no longer assuming he could sit down as he used to.

I looked up at him and nodded. I'd witnessed Brett's changes over the past few days, and I had to admit he was changing my perspective in an unexpected way.

"I'd like to ask you about some advanced programming concepts," Brett said, pulling out thick textbooks covered with sticky notes.

I was somewhat surprised. The notes in the textbook were neat and detailed—clearly he was seriously studying. I began explaining to him, and to my shock, I found myself actually enjoying the process.

Usually I hated being interrupted during study time, but discussing programming concepts with Brett gave me a strange pleasure.

"Team coordination is like modular programming," Brett summarized while listening. "Each person handles their own function, but you must ensure interface compatibility and overall coordination."

I couldn't help but smile—this was the first time I'd smiled at Brett. "That analogy is very accurate. You're definitely making progress."

"I'm beginning to understand why you're so focused," Brett said with a seriousness I'd never seen in his eyes. "The feeling of creating the perfect solution is addictive. Like finding the perfect tactical coordination."

I set down my coffee cup and looked at him seriously. Maybe I needed to reassess this person.

"Perhaps my judgment of you was too hasty," I admitted. The moment those words left my mouth, I felt my entire worldview subtly shifting.

A flash of joy crossed Brett's eyes, but he tried to remain calm. "So, could we become real study partners?"

"Study partners?" I repeated the phrase, my heart beginning to waver violently.

Just then, Brett's phone rang. The caller ID read: Ashley - Cheerleading Captain.

I held my breath, wanting to see how he would react.

But Brett glanced at his phone and hung up without hesitation.

"Aren't you going to answer?" I asked, my heart both hoping for and fearing his response.

"Nothing important," Brett said. "Right now, the most important thing to me is this moment, this time with you."

My heartbeat accelerated again, my cheeks heating uncontrollably. Was he being sincere? Or was this some new tactic?

I found my opinion of Brett changing, but I still needed to observe more, to see if he had truly changed.

"Brett..." I was about to say something when Brett's phone buzzed again.

This time it was a text. Brett glanced at his phone and quickly typed a few words back. "Nothing, just teammates asking about practice."

He put away his phone and looked back at me. "So will you agree to be my study partner?"

Looking into his serious eyes, I nodded. "Alright."

Brett smiled. "Great! See you tomorrow?"

"See you tomorrow."

As I left the café, I found myself in unexpectedly good spirits.