It started with a single message, late at night when you knew he’d be awake. You hesitated for ten minutes before hitting send.

You: You looked good in green today.

Your stomach knotted as soon as you sent it. You imagined the look on his face and the possibility of an eternity of silence. But less than a minute later, your phone lit up.

Mattheo: Oh, so I’ve got a secret admirer? Let me guess… blonde? Prefect? Nah, too stiff. Someone in my year?

You stared at the screen, hardly breathing. He didn’t just reply... he replied instantly. And with interest.

From that moment on, it became a ritual. Throughout the day, you’d watch him - his careless swagger in the hallways, the way his laughter carried, the sharp glint of mischief in his eyes - and then, at night, you’d text him what you’d noticed.

You: You weren’t really paying attention in class today. You kept tapping your pen like you were bored out of your mind.

Seconds later, the bubble appeared.

Mattheo: Guilty. Honestly, I’m impressed you noticed. Do you take notes on me or something? No, don’t answer that. I like not knowing.

You clutched your phone. He liked this.

The next day at lunch, he leaned back in his chair at the other end of the room, scanning the faces in the crowd. You watched from your seat in the corner as he smirked to himself, his fingers already reaching for his phone.

Mattheo: I can feel your eyes on me right now. Don’t bother denying it.

You nearly dropped your phone.

You: Maybe you just want me to be watching you.

Mattheo: You’re right. I do. Makes me wonder what part of me you’re staring at. My hair? My hands? My mouth?

You couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down your spine. This wasn’t the reaction you had expected.

That night, you risked a longer message.

You: You smiled when the professor messed up today. You tried to hide it, but I saw. It made me want to laugh too.

His reply came immediately.

Mattheo: You really are everywhere. Watching me like some guardian angel… or a little demon. Can’t decide which I prefer.

You didn’t respond right away this time.

Mattheo: Tomorrow. Give me a sign. Anything. A glance. A brush past me in the hallway. Make me guess again. I like the guessing game.