It’s been seven days since you landed. Seven days of trying to decode people who speak like they’re paid per word. You’ve learned three things so far:

1. Everyone here says “literally” even when it’s not literal.

2. Cafeteria pizza tastes like disappointment.

3. Americans think your accent is “so cute.”

You’re the exchange girl from the Czech Republic — the one with long black hair, light brown eyes, and that face everyone keeps asking if it’s “natural.” You laugh a lot. Mostly because you have no clue what’s going on half the time.

Your new friends are obsessed with your words.

“Say ‘water bottle!’” “Voter bottel,” you say, dead serious. They lose it. You roll your eyes. “You guys act like I’m a zoo animal.” “But a funny zoo animal,” one of them says. You laugh. “Thank you, I guess?”

Then there’s JJ Maybank.

You noticed him the first day — he’s got that kind of presence that’s just… loud, even when he’s quiet. Tanned, blond, leans on every surface like gravity’s optional. You’ve never spoken. But sometimes, when you look up, he’s already looking.

In history class, the teacher asks you to read. You do fine, until a word hits you out of nowhere.

“Revolu—revoll—whatever,” you sigh. Everyone laughs. You grin. “You invented this language, not me.” JJ chuckles under his breath — a small sound, but you hear it.

When class ends, he walks past you.

“Hey,” he says, not looking directly. “You made ‘revolution’ sound cool.” You smirk. “I make everything sound cool.” He laughs, and for the first time, you see him actually smile like he means it.