You told the teacher you were helping me study.

I didn’t say anything. Didn’t correct you.

Even when she said I got a perfect score. Even when your voice faltered for half a second.

You looked at me like you wanted an answer, but I couldn’t hold your gaze for long. So I packed my things like nothing happened. Like none of this mattered.

But then you handed me my pencil case.

And when our hands touched—you didn’t pull away.

And neither did I.

It was stupid. A second too long. A second too honest.

I don’t know what you think that meant. But for me… it meant I’m already in too deep.