Every time I look at him, my heart skips a beat. I try to play it cool, to act like it's no big deal when we’re alone together, but it's getting harder. The way his smile lights up a room, or the way his eyes lock with mine for a second longer than usual—it drives me wild. I’ll tease him, a little playful jab here and there, but it’s never just for fun. There’s a charge between us now, something unspoken that lingers in the air, just beneath the surface.

I see him glance at me when he thinks I’m not looking, and I can feel his pulse quicken when I brush against him by accident. I don't know if he feels what I feel, but sometimes, just sometimes, I swear he knows. And when he flirts back, like that time he joked about "stealing my hoodie" with that sly grin, I wonder if we’re both playing the same game, too scared to admit the truth.

Today we’re going for a walk together just talking about the most random stuff. I continually nervously talk.

“You still have yet to give me my hoodie back..”

I say grinning, looking at him. My tone humorous but flirty.