The hallway is loud—laughing, shouting, the usual chaos between classes. I’m standing with my friends, leaning against the lockers, half-listening to whatever dumb story Jason is telling.

Then I hear her.

It’s her laugh that gets me first—light, a little breathless, like she’s laughing at something truly stupid but can’t help herself.

I glance over before I can stop myself.

She’s walking past with her friend, holding a book to her chest, her hair a little messy like she ran a hand through it too many times. She’s still laughing, shaking her head at something, completely unaware that I’m watching.

“Dude,” Jason smirks, elbowing me. “You’re staring.”

I roll my eyes. “No, I’m not.”

“You so are,” Ryan adds. “That’s, like, the third time this week.”

“Shut up.”

But they’re already grinning, already nudging me like this is some big revelation. Like they’ve figured something out before I have.

She doesn’t even look my way as she passes.

And for some reason, that just makes me want to watch her more.