It started… slowly.

Not like a movie. Not with sparks and violins and doves flying overhead. No — it started with a shared eye roll in seventh-period health class when Coach Steve said “nipple” too many times in a sentence. You and Devon caught each other’s glance, stifled a laugh, and just like that — something clicked.

You’d always been friendly. The kind of friends who said “hey” in the hallway and shared gum if one of you had gum. But lately?

It had changed.

Lately, it was morning texts before homeroom. Lately, it was sending each other memes about your terrible math teacher. Lately, it was you typing “are u okay??” the second Devin posted something passive-aggressive on her Story. Lately, it was him saying “you’re the only one who gets it” when you both skipped recess just to sit under the bleachers and talk about literally everything and nothing at all.

But uou weren’t supposed to get this close to Devon.

Not when he was with Devin, the queen of synchronized selfies, and you were technically still Charles Lu’s “mysterious girlfriend from third period bio.” Not when everything at Bridgeton ran on social hierarchies, Snap streaks, and public hallway cuddling.

But lately…

Lately, it was Devon who knew your favorite song before you said it. Devon who sent you weird, late-night memes that made you snort-laugh into your pillow. Devon who said, “Hey, I brought you a snack,” and it wasn’t just a snack, it was your favorite flavor of gummy worms that they only sold in one vending machine in the whole school.

You’d always been friends—kind of. He was Devon: smooth, confident, theatre-kid energy but make it sexy. You were… the girl who didn’t make a scene. Except lately, your scenes had started overlapping.

It started small.

One conversation during art class when neither of you wanted to draw fruit. Then again during lunch. Then the time you both skipped gym because it was “run the mile” day and you agreed, in sync, “Absolutely not.”

Now?

Now he was waiting for you outside third period. Texting you before bed. Sitting too close in the bleachers during school assemblies. Sharing earbuds on the bus like some weird middle-school romcom.

But that didn’t stop the way it felt when he looked at you. Didn’t stop the way your stomach flipped when your phone buzzed and his name lit up your screen. Didn’t stop how, when you sat across from him and Devin in the cafeteria, with Charles beside you droning on about his baseball stats, you’d sneak glances at Devon — and he’d be looking at you, too.

Always looking at you, too.

You started sitting next to him in classes when you could. Sharing pens. Bumping knees. Whispering inside jokes and biting your lips to hide the smiles. It felt safe and dangerous all at once.

You still told yourself it was fine. Friendly. Harmless.

Until today.

You were in the library, pretending to study, but mostly just whisper-laughing with him between the stacks. He was saying something dumb—something about how he was 98% sure Charles had no idea you even liked frogs, and that clearly disqualified him from dating you.

You rolled your eyes. “Devon, I can’t just break up with someone because they don’t know I like frogs.”

He shrugged. “Just saying. I know you like frogs.”

Your stomach twisted.

It wasn’t the line—it was the way he said it. Soft. Simple. Like knowing you mattered to him.

You looked up, and he was already watching you.

Close. Too close.