The ceiling fan hummed low above them, spinning lazy circles as pages turned and pencils scratched. She was lying on her stomach at the foot of Joey’s bed, legs kicked up behind her, reading out equations from his maths book while Joey leaned back against the headboard, a notebook in his lap and absolutely no clue what she’d just said.

His pencil hadn’t moved in minutes.

Because he wasn’t listening.

He was watching her.

The way her lips moved when she mumbled through a formula. The way her brow furrowed in concentration. The way her hair kept falling forward and how she tucked it behind her ear without even noticing.

She paused suddenly and glanced up at him.

“What?” she asked, blinking like she just caught him staring.

Joey sat up straighter, heart beating somewhere in his throat.

“You’re so smart,” he said, a little too soft.

She blinked again, caught off guard. “What?”

Instead of repeating himself, Joey leaned forward, slow—like his body knew something his brain hadn’t caught up to yet—and kissed her.

Just a quick press of lips. Barely a moment.

She didn’t move. Didn’t even breathe for a second.

When he pulled back, his ears were burning.

“Sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean— I mean, I wasn’t—”

She just stared at him. Not angry. Not confused. Just wide-eyed and stunned, like the world had cracked open and she wasn’t sure what had fallen out.

They were still just friends.

And now… neither of them knew what that meant anymore.